You move to Beacon Hills on a Monday. It's small and warm and you think you're going to like it here. The rest of the summer is filled with moving vans and boxes and paint cans. And you smile.
It's three weeks later and you're the new girl.
The girl who stumbles through the doorway, oh please let this be the right classroom. The girl who stutters through her introduction and sits in the back and please tell me I didn't forget to bring a pencil. The girl who stares wide-eyed at the messy-haired boy in front of her and momentarily forgets how to speak, oh! thanks, yeah, I needed a pen!
Your name is Allison Argent and your story starts here.
There's a girl with red hair standing in front of you with her hands on her hips, looking you over. Once. Twice. Three times. And then she smiles a blinding little smile.
"I think I just found my new best friend."
You beam back at her and laugh a little nervously because you think you just found the princess in this fairy tale. She twirls a strand of perfectly curled hair around a perfectly manicured finger and you can practically picture the crown on her head. She struts away in a flowery skirt and high heels and doesn't glance back to see if you're following. You do anyway.
She takes you shopping and introduces you to her boyfriend and links arms with you in the hallway and it's all shiny and glittery and perfect. You're not sure when you start walking beside her instead of behind her, but you do and you think you could learn to love this girl.
You see her at her worst on a Tuesday afternoon, staring at her phone with a lost expression. You rest your chin on her shoulder and ask if she's okay because people like her aren't supposed to look so sad. She shrugs her shoulders and refuses to meet your eyes. "Jackson broke up with me. I'm fine." But she's not and you know she's not, so you hold her hand and skip fifth period to let her cry on your shoulder in the girl's bathroom. She doesn't smile, but she raises an eyebrow and, in Lydia speak, that's basically the same thing, so you count it as a victory. A small one, but still a victory.
You don't know why she picked you that day or why she thought you were worth the time, but you're glad she did. Because now that you know there's someone like her out there, you don't want to live in this world without her standing next to you.
Lydia Martin is beautiful and she's your best friend.
The first time you encounter Scott McCall, your mom almost runs him over.
The second time, he lets you borrow a pen.
(you think that's progress)
You fall in love with Scott McCall silently and loudly, all at the same time. You fall in love with him in moments and in every second of every hour of every day. You fall in love with him with every fiber of your being and every molecule of every part of you. You fall in love with the way his eyes are always kind and warm and the way he smiles that lopsided smile and the way he always forget to tie his shoelaces. You fall in love with the way he would give up everything for Stiles and how much he loves his mom.
Because I love you.
He writes you notes and sneaks out to meet you and "Scott, what's wrong with your eyes?"
And then it all comes crashing down.
Werewolves aren't real. Werewolves aren't real. Werewolves. Aren't. Real.
...but they are. No matter how many times you repeat it, no matter how many times you scream it over and over again, you can still see it in your mind. Your dad with a crossbow, aiming for the only person you've ever loved.
Winter formals aren't supposed to end up with blood and death and destruction. Your best friend is not supposed to fall to the ground with claw marks on her skin. Your boyfriend is not supposed to have glowing yellow eyes and teeth sharp enough to cut through steel.
And suddenly, it stops mattering that Lydia kissed Scott or that he kissed her back or that your dad was keeping secrets from you because you're not sure who the villain of your story is anymore.
You do the only thing that you can think of. You run. Away from Scott and back to Kate. Away from Lydia lying pale in a hospital bed and away from Jackson breaking down. It's not until you've already drawn blood that you realize this was never supposed to be a war.
And then Kate is trying to kill Scott and no, stop, not him, please and your dad steps in and it's all kind of a blur after that. There's flames and blood. So much blood. And tears because Kate was psychotic, but she was still your aunt and oh god, what's happening?
And Peter's dead and Kate's dead, but Scott isn't. He's still here and he's breathing and you don't care that he's a werewolf. As long as he's here.
You kiss him until the yellow fades from his eyes and his claws retract and the desperation in his eyes when he whispers "why" in a broken voice hurts more than anything else ever could. So you give him the only answer you have and hope that it's enough.
"Because I love you."
You're just a teenager, but you never thought you were stupid.
Until you're standing in the garage with blood on your hands and a body at your feet, watching everything you thought you knew fall apart. Gerard lied to you. He lied and you believed him. And now the kanima has its hands around your throat and you can't breathe and Scott is looking at you with that look and I'm so sorry, Scott, I'm so sorry.
You just wanted your mom back. You didn't want any of this.
You know it's all over and you know you're going to die, so you try to convey everything you feel for Scott into a single look. And then your grandfather is screaming in pain and there's a black substance everywhere and you're pulling away and praying to a god you never believed in. Please don't let this be it. Please let it be okay. Please. Please. Please.
Gerard disappears and Jackson turns back into himself with Lydia wrapped around him. But you can still feel the blood dripping from your fingers and you can still feel the darkness that you let seep inside of you.
You break up with the love of your life after everything is over because you're not sure your heart is strong enough to love anyone anymore. Not even yourself. Especially not yourself. You tell him goodbye and he tells you he'll wait and you cry because it's all too much.
"There's no such thing as fate."
"There's no such thing as werewolves."
You're not quite sure how it happened, but somehow you end up fighting with Derek Hale instead of against him. It's not until a few weeks pass by that you realize it was never Derek influencing your decision. It was Scott.
You would always go where Scott went. Always.
Even if you broke his heart, breaking your own in the process. Even if you know you destroyed the one thing that could anchor him to humanity. Even if he turns into the monster your mother always claimed he was.
And if he trusted Derek, so did you.
Because it would always be Scott. Always.
(even if you forgot about that fact for a while)
Isaac Lahey is an unexpected surprise that reminds you of who you were with Gerard in your head. He reminds you that you screwed up. You screwed up and people got hurt because of it.
Scott got hurt because of it.
And you can never forgive yourself for that. Ever.
Isaac doesn't let you forget it either.
And then he kisses you and all you can think is that he doesn't feel like Scott.
Motel Glen Capri is disgusting and makes your skin crawl. But you never thought anything like this would happen. Boyd trying to drown himself, his dead sister's name on his lips. Ethan holding a saw against his chest, begging for them to just let him die. Isaac curled under the bed, lost in demons that only he sees.
But none of that matters when Scott is covered in gasoline, his voice quiet and broken.
"I should be no one again."
And Stiles is shaking, but he still steps forward and wraps his hand around his best friend's. And all you can think is that it should be you. You should be the one holding him up, being his anchor.
But you're not. You messed that up a long time ago.
Lydia screams and your voice catches in your throat because you all know what happens when Lydia screams. And then it's all burnburnburn and everything goes up in flames and you're crawling towards where the two boys have fallen and please be okay, please be okay, please be okay.
It's not until you have your arms hooked around his neck and his heartbeat against your ear that you can breathe again.
You love Stiles. You really do.
But Lydia is missing and Scott is falling apart and you don't care that it's not really him. You just want your best friend back and for things to go back to normal. As normal as things can be in Beacon Hills at least.
You know Scott would do anything to save his pseudo brother, but you would do anything to save Scott. Even if it means killing his best friend. Even if means having him hate you forever.
"I'm here to save my best friend." And you, always you.
"I'm here to save mine."
You love Stiles. But you love Scott more.
"Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent."
There's a hole in your stomach and your hands are red and you frown. And then you're falling and someone is grabbing you and you know it's Scott before you look up.
He is covered in bruises, but he's alive and you exhale in relief before registering the pain in your side and the distress in his expression. He covers your hands with his and presses down, but you know it's too late.
"I love you."
And he is begging you to hold on just a little bit longer because I can fix this, Allison, I can fix this. You think it proves that he truly is good all the way through because you broke every aspect of him and he still wants to save the biggest part of you.
You never wanted a knight in shining armor or a prince charming. You never expected the world to fall at your feet. You never dreamed of castles and crowns and ballgowns. You just wanted a boy with messy hair to hold your hand and a girl with blinding smiles to be your friend.
Your name is Allison Argent and your life was never a fairy tale.
And now it's over.
You die on a Saturday in the arms of your first love with a girl named Lydia on your mind and a boy named Scott in your heart.