❝i'm a supernatural battery charge,
you could say.❞
- juliette fosters may or may not
still be in love with stiles stilinski,
which makes living with him infinitely
more complicated.
[2020]
[ book 2 of 3 ]
[ season four ]
book 1: amateur detective...
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THE HOLLOW FEELING in her stomach conquered her senses. If nightmares existed outside of dreams, Juliette was living in one. Her arms spread loosely on her bed, override by the memory of Brunski's voice and the sombre contemplation flowing through her mind. She did nothing at all but stare blankly at the ceiling, the voice replaying in her head. You're what I call the forgotten.
Forcing herself off the bed, she deliberated over leaving her room. But once the anxiety embellished, she felt she had no choice. Cautiously, she opened the creaking door in Stiles' room. "Hey." Her voice was small as an attempt to hide the panic in it.
From his bed, Stiles looked up to the girl, opening his mouth to speak before she interrupted. "Have you talked to Lydia or your dad? My phone's dead and..." She paused suddenly, taking a single step into his room, twiddling with her fingers anxiously.
Stiles didn't respond for a moment, trying to dismantle her body language to fathom it, leaving him absentminded. He shook his head once he gripped back into reality. "Yeah, they're still at the station, trying to get Meredith to talk." The clock on the nightstand read four thirty-two in the morning, and the flicked off lights in his room led her to believe she walked in on him just after he'd intended to fall asleep. "She put herself on a dead pool she created, Jules. It makes no sense."
"Yeah, and she left out Peter." Juliette mumbled, too engrossed in her own thoughts to solicitude over the dead pool and it's creation.
Stiles gawped at her, bemused. "But Peter doesn't know her, right?"
With a shrug, she stepped around his bed, catching the tape on his nightstand. Perplexed, she picked up the tape, reading it's label; Lorraine Martin. Setting it down, her hands palpitated as she picked up the next tape with her mother's name written messily on the label. "I thought we weren't allowed to have these?"
"I kind of... stole it. It was too important not to." Stiles explained with a sigh. "It won't work. Not your mom's, at least."
In a peculiar sense, Juliette was relieved. "And Lorraine's?"
Stiles situated the cassette tape back on the nightstand, his body abraded past hers. "We'll play it tomorrow." He gulped, his hands grazing hers when he pulled away. "Jules, your hands trembling." He cupped his hands over hers worriedly.
"Well, I just found out everything i've known about my mother's death has been a lie." He stared up at her empathetically. Uncomfortable at any sense of sympathy, she shrugged. "Just make sure I never die at Eichen, alright?"
