Heartbeat // A Derek Hale Love Story (Teen Wolf)

Bittersweet

Song: Wait by M83

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As I drove up our long driveway coming back from the Foundry to see Melissa McCall's car, I was hit with a wave of surprise.

"What are they doing here?" I pondered aloud, the wheels of my truck crunching against the fine gravel of the driveway, as I parked next to Melissa's car.

I found my heart rate quickening as I approached the tall front door of my house, likely due to the fact that I hadn't seen Scott or Stiles in a substantial chunk of time.

I wasn't sure what to expect.

I meandered my way up toward the porch, pushing the screen door open.

I took one look at the shoe-rack, and knew Scott was in the house too, by his beaten up pair of sneakers.

Someone must have heard me come in, for I listened to the patter of a set of socked feet make their way across the floor, before I saw Scott's unruly mop of dark hair.

He smiled widely, quite the cute, puppy-like expression. "Lillian!"

He wrapped his arms around me tightly, and I stiffened: I wasn't much of a hugger.

"Scott!" I said his name back in the way he said mine, smiling back.

I pulled away, peeling off my vibrant green shoes I used only for exercise, and since last night, the left had a bit of blood interrupting the brightness.

When I went anywhere else, to work, climbing buildings (also called swoocing, depending on the range of one's slang vocabulary), or riding horses, I wore my dark hiking boots.

"Hey Lillian." A familiar voice spoke, causing me to look up to see the face of Stiles Stilinski.

"Stiles?" I choked, rising to my feet, not taking my eyes off him as memories flooded my mind like water.

I could tell something was wrong, by the way Dad and Melissa looked at each other, before advancing towards Rosie and I.

There was something wrong with Dad's gait, too.

He barely lifted his feet off the floor as he walked, something completely out of character for him. Melissa followed, I could tell her nails were digging into her palms though she tried to hide it.

"Dad?" I asked cautiously, biting my lip, knowing it was bad.

Whatever he was bringing Melissa to tell us, it was bad.

"Hey, Lil, Rose." Dad smiled, his eyes twinkling with somber mist.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" The nine-year-old Rosie asked, watching our dad stand in his white lab coat, one that was supposed to represent that he knew how to help people.

If what I thought my dad was about to tell us was true, he couldn't help me.

"Did they do the biopsy?" I demanded, pretty much knowing the answer before anyone said anything else.

Dad nodded, resting a hand on my shoulder, a deep breath leaving my body.

"O-okay?" I stuttered, my voice not cooperating despite my determination not to let it squeak. "If it-- if it wasn't that bad you-- you would be looking at us like that, Dad!"

My dad's silence roused a quiet noise of sorrow from deep in my chest, a mournful moan, tears threatening to fall all down my face.

"Hey, hey--" Melissa jumped over to sit between me and my sister on the uncomfortable bench we were on, wrapping her arm around me.