Inked Emissary

Chapter 2: Greenwood

  Stiles told everyone that he had fallen over so that he didn't have to tell them about his confrontation with Isaac. His left eye was black and sore but that was the least of Stiles' pain. The real pain was inside. He had submitted to the Nogitsune, he had let the fox in.

  He couldn't look anyone in the eye, not even his dad although he continually told Stiles that Allison wasn't his fault. It didn't help in the slightest.

  Malia had kissed him though. The day after the funeral she had found him around the back of the school. He had been slumped against the brick, his hands splayed on either side of him as he tried to avoid everyone. She had come then and she had stood close in front of him.

"Do you remember that time in Eichen House?" she asked him as she raised his face to hers.

"Yes," had been Stiles' answer.

"I'd like some more of that, if that's okay," she'd said quietly," I really enjoyed it last time, I really enjoyed being with you." It was then that she had planted the kiss on his lips. Soon Stiles was kissing her back. One hand rested on the smooth skin of her cheek while he buried the other in her thick, silky  hair. In that moment he had been filled with a warmth that had previously left him ever since he had been possessed. 

  But it had done little to dampen his resolve, if anything the kiss only served to strengthen it. Malia was just another person he had to protect. And to do that he had to leave, just as Isaac had said. He had to at least learn control first.

***

  Stiles had everything planned out. He had more than enough credits to graduate straight away and that's what he planned to do. He had applied for and got a place in Greenwood College, one of the best colleges in America.

  He'd go to college after the summer vacation, until then he'd already arranged a job as a shop assistant in a grocery shop. The job would cover his half of the rent and his food. Yes, Stiles had already sorted accommodation.  He'd be sharing a flat with a guy called Thomas Graham, he was in his second year at Greenwood College. The fact that he had gotten in encouraged Stiles that he'd be able to hold an intelligent conversation with his room mate.

  It was all thanks to the owner of the shop were he was going to work. The man, Henry Jones, was aware of the supernatural. He was learned in mythology and many of the properties of certain items linked to the preternatural. They had met one time when Henry had come to Beacon Hills, the shop keeper had asked if Stiles knew about the myths around werewolves, soon they had gotten into a full conversation about the mystic goings on in the town. They had been friends ever since and so he had helped Stiles find accommodation to go with his job.

  No one but his dad knew of his plans and Stiles wanted to keep it that way. The Sheriff wasn't happy about loosing Stiles but he seemed to understand that his son needed a break from Beacon Hills, a town full of ghosts and bad memories.

  Now it was here, the last day, exactly a week after the funeral. Stiles went to school as normal and bumped into Malia. She smiled foxily at him and he couldn't help but follow her into an empty classroom. 

  She was the one with her back to the wall this time as they passionately kissed. He leaned into it, one hand splayed against the wall, the other clutching her lower back. The werecoyote went to slip a hand under his shirt and he flinched as her fingers brushed the scar across his stomach and pulled back slightly. The scar from where he'd slashed open his stomach as the Nogitsune to release the flies.

  She raised her head to look at him. Stiles swallowed and then guided her hand back up his abdomen. Her fingers gently caressed the blemish. She leaned forward until he could feel her breath on his cheek.