Beyond The Bite(Sterek fanfiction)(M/M)

Chapter 4

Beyond The Bite • Chapter 3
(Word Count: 1,819)

My nightmares had gradually subsided over the weeks, turning into rare, unwelcome disturbances. The unrelenting visions of Jennifer's face no longer plagued my sleep, providing a much-needed respite. Yet, the relief I should have felt was overshadowed by an inexplicable unease, as if a dark specter loomed nearby, signaling impending peril.

On a different note, Derek had taken to inviting me on his morning runs—a practice he swore was beneficial for mental clarity and emotional well-being. His reasoning included something about serotonin levels, but I'll admit I wasn't entirely dragged along against my will. In a curious twist of events since my most recent brush with death, Derek and I had forged a rather intense camaraderie. Our interactions had shifted from playful banter and his stoic indifference to something richer, something more profound. I couldn't shake the thought that this newfound connection might extend beyond the mere ties of pack loyalty. Against my better judgment, I found myself harboring a growing warmth toward Derek as days melded into weeks.

A pang of guilt should have been present, considering Malia. Since the bite, the fabric of our relationship had started to fray, with communication dwindling to sparse exchanges in our training sessions—which, incidentally, had been on hiatus since the emergence of my tattoo. It had been weeks, and the realization struck me with alarming clarity:

I didn't miss her.

The sound of my name carried across the room, bringing with it a knock at my bedroom door snapped me from my ruminations.

"Malia..." I said, a tumult of surprise and trepidation at her presence. Gone were the flutter and warmth her name used to invoke; in their place was numbness, a gut-churning queasiness as she lingered in the doorway.

"You look well," she remarked, hesitating as if unsure how to bridge the gap between us.

"Yeah... The last traces of Jennifer's magic faded after—" I began.

"—after you almost died... again," Malia interjected, her tone carrying an unspoken weight.

"Yeah," I responded, my voice hollow as I clenched my hands in my lap.

Malia sighed, pausing as if to gather her thoughts before closing the short distance and sitting on the edge of my bed, deliberately putting space between us. Despite the distance, I couldn't ignore the way her proximity affected me.

"That night... I can't deny how painful it was to weigh the chance you might have died had the bite not worked. But then you practically told me your dying wish was for me to be happy with Scott. But..."

"I didn't die," I said, cutting her off, a sense of inevitability settling in. There was no grief or anger, only the acknowledgment of reality. It was as if a part of me had always known that Malia and I were on borrowed time.

Malia nodded, looking down as she fidgeted with her hands. Reaching out, I stilled her movements with my own, silently urging her to meet my gaze. In her eyes, I saw the turmoil of her inner conflict, and a surge of respect for her honesty washed over me. Our bond remained, transformed but unbreakable.

"It's okay," I assured her, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. "There's nothing to scorn yourself for; not for what you feel for me... or for Scott. Truth be told, I understand. And it's okay—really."

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice quivering, a telltale shimmer in her eyes.

I nodded, returning her embrace as comprehension dawned on us both.

"I love you, Stiles," Malia whispered.

"I love you, too," I returned softly, and with that, a certain peace settled over me. Although our paths were diverging, we were okay—perhaps even better for the parting. Acceptance of who we were becoming was a balm to my once restless heart.