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Theo’s not running away. He’s running—he’s not running away. Because running away implies that there’s something you’re running from, and there isn’t anything in Beacon Hills that’s important enough for that. (Lie.)
All he’s doing is trying to save his own skin, and put as much distance in between himself and Monroe and her maniacs as possible, and then try to live whatever passed as a life for a formerly brainwashed sociopathic chimera. There was nothing left for him in Beacon Hills, nothing that could make him want to stay. (Lie.)
His best option now is just to do what everyone expects him to do. They’ll all save the day through the power of friendship or whatever and he can live out the rest of his life alone, just the way he wants it. (Lie.)
He hasn’t even made it to the Beacon County border before his phone lights up, displaying Scott’s name. He answers it without thinking, wholeheartedly planning to ignore whatever bleeding heart speech the almighty true alpha has prepared.
And he tries. He really does. He wants so badly to keep driving, forget what Scott had said, leave them all to deal with their problems.
But he can’t. Because from the moment Scott says Liam’s name, he knows he’ll never forgive himself if he leaves.
And so, with the image of a particular pair of blue eyes flickering across his mind, he jerks the wheel around and begins to drive towards the hospital, refusing to dwell on what he might find there.
Theo can’t help himself from seeking out Liam’s heartbeat the second he walks through the hospital doors—4th floor in the Intensive Care Unit—but he hastily drags his senses back to his surroundings when a hunter lunges from around the corner at him, easily taken down by a well-placed blow to the side of his skull—a brief check tells him the hunter is merely unconscious, not dead. He wonders exactly when he started caring.
He makes a beeline for the elevator that will let him out closest to Liam, punching the button for the fourth floor and fixing on Liam’s heartbeat, pounding with adrenaline and fear but strong and alive. The elevator climbs slowly, and he simultaneously hears Liam’s heartbeat spike and catches the sharp scent of metal and gunpowder.
The bullets start flying a split second before the doors open, revealing Liam facing a group of hunters, and without hesitation Theo lunges out of the elevator, wraps his arms around Liam, and pulls him back behind the doors and against the wall, slamming the door close button with a hand he flings out.
Only when the doors close does he let go of Liam, who looks genuinely shocked to see him. “What are you doing here?” he demands, looking Theo up and down as if he doesn’t believe he’s standing there.
Not that Theo can blame him. He still doesn’t fully believe it himself. “I was just asking myself the same thing,” he responds, allowing himself a furtive onceover to confirm that Liam is, in fact, unhurt.
Liam quickly moves towards the now-closed elevator doors, the sounds of bullets ricocheting off the metal becoming more infrequent before eventually stopping. He seems to be intently listening to whatever was happening outside the doors, and Theo takes advantage of his preoccupation to more thoroughly reassure himself of Liam’s condition.
His heartbeat is still raised, though steadily coming back down to normal. His scent is thick with fear and anger, but it isn’t tinged with the metallic tang of blood. His eyes are downturned, his lashes nearly brushing his cheekbones, but Theo can still see the piercing blue. His heart nearly skips a beat at the memory of those eyes fixed on his own, deep as the ocean and just as easy to drown in.
Stay focused, he reminds himself. Bigger problems to deal with at the moment.
“They still out there?” he asks Liam, unwilling to tear his focus from Liam’s own heartbeat to check for himself. Liam thankfully doesn’t question it, only listens for a second before glancing at him and nodding in confirmation. Forcing himself to keep a tight control on his own heartbeat under the force of Liam’s gaze, he takes a step forward and states, calmly as possible, “Look, I’m not dying for you.” (Lie.)
“I’m not dying for you, either,” Liam responds instantly, and Theo—momentarily distracted by their sudden closeness as Liam had taken a step forward as he’d spoken—almost misses the skip in Liam’s heartbeat.
He manages to control his expression, but can’t stop his eyes from flicking down to Liam’s chest, where his heart is still beating away, either unaware or simply uncaring about what he had revealed.
Theo tries to meet his eyes, but Liam turns his head away a split second after Theo pulls his gaze up, staring unseeing at the elevator doors for a long moment. He takes a deep breath, seemingly considering his words. “But, I will,” he begins, eyes still fixed on the doors, “fight with you.”
He turns his gaze back to Theo on the last word, his heartbeat strong and steady, and for a brief moment Theo thinks that Liam’s blue eyes shining in the fluorescent light of the elevator might just be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“Okay,” he responds, glancing down at the ground and taking a deep breath when the heat of Liam’s gaze threatens to release the flood of emotions pent up in his chest. “Let’s fight.”
He allows himself this moment to take in Liam in front of him, strong and whole and beautiful and so, so alive—alive in a way that Theo’s not sure he has been for a long time, alive in a way that Theo only feels in those brief moments in Liam’s presence, alive in a way that Theo longs to be again, and he wonders for a fleeting second if Liam’s hands on his face, Liam’s lips against his own, could somehow make him feel that way again—and then the doors open and he’s turning to face the danger outside, fangs bared and claws out, ready to fight, ready to do whatever he has to in order to keep the beautiful boy beside him alive.
And then, against all odds, they survive. Theo can still feel the pain of his healing bullet wounds, there’s blood and glass all over the floor, the sound of Liam saying ‘you lost’ is still echoing in his ears, but they’re alive. Liam is alive. He’s alive, and he’s looking at Theo.
Theo feels strangely vulnerable under the force of Liam’s gaze, and he’s not sure why. Liam’s expression isn’t accusatory or suspicious or anything like that—on the contrary, he looks grateful. But Theo can still detect the hint of a question in Liam’s face, and he suspects the answer won’t be an easy one.
Mrs. McCall had already stepped aside to call Scott, Mason and Corey are sufficiently wrapped up in each other, and Nolan is slumped against a wall seemingly in shock, so nobody’s paying much attention when Liam grabs Theo’s arm—his left one, still tingling with the strange burn of sensation after taking Gabe’s pain—and practically yanks him into a nearby examination room, closing the door behind him.
Liam turns towards him and raises his eyebrows expectantly, as if he wasn’t the one who dragged Theo in here against his will. “What, have you brought me in here to finally finish me off?” Theo asks, crossing his arms and focusing on Liam’s heartbeat once again.
Liam just rolls his eyes in response. “If I wanted you dead, I would have just let the hunters kill you,” he says pointedly, his heartbeat steady. Theo just shrugs. “I brought you in here because I wanted to ask you something, and I knew you wouldn’t answer me honestly if I asked you out there.”
Theo’s momentarily tempted to respond with something biting, to lash out and avoid whatever emotional conversation is coming, but he swallows down the instinct. “Whatever it is, spit it out. We don’t have all day.”
Liam looks at him for a long moment, his scent a tangled mess that Theo doesn’t even attempt to piece out. “Why’d you take that bullet for me?” he asks suddenly.
Theo’s startled, both by the sudden break in silence and the question. “What?” he manages to get out, impressed by how steady his voice is.
Liam just looks even more determined. “You heard me. Why did you take that bullet for me?” Theo knows the exact moment he’s referring to, can still remember the instinctual way he’d tried to shield Liam from the spray of gunfire, can still feel the twinge of the healing wounds.
“I didn’t—” he starts, and then cuts himself off. He knows why. He knows exactly why. He just doesn’t know if he can say the reason out loud.
He considers denying it. Considers pushing him away, or pissing him off so much that he pushes him away himself. Considers running away as fast as he can, away from all of this, away from the boy in front of him, away from how he feels.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a deep breath and answers the question the best way he can without actually answering it. “Why’d your heart skip a beat when you said you wouldn’t die for me?”
If Liam’s surprised by him deflecting, he doesn’t show it. His expression remains unchanged, his heartbeat still steady. “Why didn't yours?”
His gaze is still fixed on Theo, strong and unwavering, his deep blue eyes seemingly staring right through every wall Theo had tried so hard to put up, straight to his soul. Theo has the sudden urge to ask what he sees there, if it’s even still there, or if it had been ripped out alongside his heart over and over, or if he had lost it long ago standing on that bridge. Or if it’s there, but broken beyond any hope of saving, so twisted and darkened by everything he had done that it’s unrecognizable. Or if maybe, just maybe, there’s something left of it, some small part of him that’s not completely ruined, something in him worthy of hope, of trust, of love.
All he knows is that if there is anything left of his soul, no matter how ruined and shattered it may be, every single piece of it belongs to Liam.
But he can’t say that. With everything that he’s done, he knows he doesn’t deserve what he wants. If Liam wants the truth, the best he can give him is a piece of it.
“The Dread Doctors taught me to control my heartbeat,” Theo says, his voice steady even as he recalls the torture he’d endured while trying to learn that specific trick. “It’s second nature now. I don’t really think about it.”
Liam doesn’t react, just keeps looking at him, as if he can figure out every thought in Theo’s head if he just stares long enough. “You keep trying to save me. The Ghost Riders, the police station, the zoo, the locker room—and now today.”
“Pretty high opinion you have of yourself there, Dunbar,” he spits out before he can stop himself. “Hate to crush your white knight fantasy here, but I don’t give a shit—”
“You do keep saving me, don’t deny it,” Liam cuts him off. “And you never answered me when I asked you why. At first I thought you were trying to prove yourself, like you were trying to earn your place or something—but I know it’s not that.”
Theo feels his armor start to crack at Liam’s words, getting dangerously ever closer to the truth, and tries not to let any of the million thoughts running through his mind show on his face. Every time he’d thrown himself headfirst into danger because Liam was in harm’s way, ready to sacrifice everything if it meant Liam would be safe. Every night he’d laid awake in his truck, his only comforts a thin blanket and the memory of deep blue eyes. Every time Liam’s skin had touched his, whether it was the soft brush of a hand or the harsh crack of a fist. Every prayer he’d sent up to a God he didn’t believe in, for an end to his suffering, for a second chance, for salvation, for something to make him feel alive.
Sometimes, he’s still not sure that he is—alive, that is. Sometimes, he’ll slip into a nightmare and it’ll feel more real than waking hours ever do. Sometimes, he’ll wake up with his claws piercing his chest, trying to punch through his ribs, and he’ll wonder what would happen if he just didn’t stop. What happens when you kill whatever he is, he wonders—a shell of a human being, a manufactured monster, a shadow of a nightmare soaked in blood, a weapon powered by a stolen heart.
He’s not worthy of whatever Liam is trying to give him, not deserving of forgiveness or sympathy or saving. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to keep saving you if you didn’t keep fucking things up,” he sneers, the biting words falling out of his mouth so easily. “It’s not my fault you’re practically useless in a fight. I don’t have time to wait for you to get a half-decent shot in when my ass is on the line, especially since it so rarely happens.”
Part of him hopes that Liam will get angry, break his nose again, do something, something to make this raw, cracked open feeling in Theo’s chest go away. But besides the brief flash of hurt in his eyes, Liam doesn't react, just studies him for a moment.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” Liam starts, his voice infuriatingly calm. “It’s not gonna work. I’m not gonna let you keep pretending like you don’t give a shit when you obviously do.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, pretending is kind of what I’m best at,” Theo replies, trying his best to keep the bitterness out of his tone.
“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” Liam says. “I know you feel like you do, but you don’t. Not with me, at least.”
Liam says it so plainly, like it’s just as simple as that, like it’s nothing to undo 10 years of brainwashing and torture, like the countless bodies he’s dropped are that easily erased. But it’s not that simple. It never is. But God, does he want it to be. He wants so badly to be able to say what he’s thinking, and he knows that if anyone deserves that, it’s Liam.
Liam, who had saved him long before Theo had done a single thing for anyone else, who had pulled him from his personal hell, who had rescued him from an eternity of torment, an eternity that he deserved every second of. Liam, who had always been so unapologetically good, loyal and honest to a fault, caring and kind and every single wonderful thing that Theo isn’t. Liam, who Theo knew he would do anything for, no matter what, would walk through fire, would jump in front of a thousand bullets, would spill every drop of blood in his body, would rip his own heart out of his chest, would do all of it with a smile if it meant protecting Liam.
He’d do all of that without hesitation, but he doesn’t know if he can be that honest at this moment. But at the same time—he’s tired. Tired of pretending, tired of hiding what he feels, tired of being alone. So maybe—just maybe—it can be that simple.
“Were you lying?” Liam prompts, his voice startling Theo out of his thoughts.
Theo almost opens his mouth to say something, but he’s not sure what would come out if he did, so he simply nods, the simple action breaking his armor open even further.
Liam’s expression is more open than it has been throughout the entire conversation, but it’s such a tangle of emotions that Theo can’t even begin to identify what he’s thinking. “Why?”
“Because—” he breaks off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. Because I don’t know how to be honest anymore. Because I’m terrified of telling people the truth. Because no matter what I do, I will never deserve you. “Because I didn’t want you to know.”
Liam furrows his brows in confusion. “You didn’t want me to know what?”
That you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. That from the moment you pulled me out of hell I’ve belonged to you completely. That I dream of you almost every night and sometimes I pray I won’t wake up. That I only feel alive when I look in your eyes. That I would die for you without hesitation because if you died then part of me would die and I would never be okay again.
“I didn’t want you to know—how I feel,” Theo manages to get out. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, fixing his gaze on Liam. “How I feel about you.”
Liam’s expression remains unchanged, but his sharp inhale betrays his surprise. He takes a half step forward, and it's Theo's turn to be surprised. “And how do you feel about me?” Liam moves another step closer, and Theo can hardly breathe.
“I don’t think it matters. How I feel,” he responds, his voice soft. Liam’s so close now that he can feel his body heat radiating off of him, reminding him once again just how alive Liam is.
Liam takes another step forward. He’s so close that Theo can see the flecks of color in his eyes, count each individual eyelash. “I think it does matter,” Liam says, his voice soft but firm. Theo sucks in a sudden sharp breath at the feeling of Liam’s fingers brushing his left arm, wrapping around his wrist, his thumb running over the veins that had turned black when he’d taken Gabe’s pain.
He glances down at where Liam’s hand is encircling his arm, and for a split second he can still see the black veins. He can feel warmth radiating out from the point of contact, can feel every callus on Liam’s palm, rough against his skin.
Theo wants to say something, wants to ask why it matters, wants to say one of a hundred thousand things running through his mind, and he looks back up at Liam, meeting his gaze, preparing to speak, to do something, when Liam surges forward, and then Liam’s mouth is on his and every single thought leaves his mind.
Liam’s kissing him. He’s kissing him, and it’s better than anything Theo could have ever dreamed of. His lips are chapped and there’s a brief moment where their teeth clack together before they find a rhythm and there’s the faint taste of blood in both of their mouths—and it’s perfect. He feels suddenly and deliriously alive, his heart pounding and his hands fisted in Liam’s hair and his lips on Liam’s, and there’s not an inch of him that feels cold, every cell in his body on fire as he kisses the boy he loves.
And he loves him. God, he loves him. I love you, he thinks, the words as familiar to him now as breathing, and he can’t say it, he can’t, not right now, so he just kisses Liam, puts the words into every movement, puts every hope and prayer and dream that he’s ever had into this kiss.
He’s not sure how long it is before they break apart—it could have been mere moments or hours or even days and Theo wouldn’t have known. When he opens his eyes, the harsh white of the fluorescent lights is nothing compared to the dazzling blue of Liam’s eyes, looking at him in a way that says that he understood exactly what Theo was trying to say.
“You’re not gonna run away now, are you?” Liam says softly, as if he knows anything louder would somehow shatter whatever strange atmosphere now surrounded them. His voice is level, but Theo can hear the fear behind his words. After all, isn’t that exactly what he’d been doing before Scott had called? Running away, away from this place, away from his guilt, away from every bad memory that haunted his nightmares. Away from how he felt, away from the one person that made Theo want to stay.
Wanting was a strange thing. For so long, all he’d wanted was freedom, power, the chance to make his own decisions. After he’d come back from the skinwalker prison, it’d taken him so long to realize what it was he wanted. But he knows now. He wants to feel alive. He wants to make up for the things that he’s done. He wants to belong somewhere for the first time in his life.
He wants to stay.
“No,” Theo says, his voice quiet but strong, his heartbeat steady without him controlling it. “I’m not gonna run.” I promise . He doesn’t say it out loud, but the weight of the words is evident in his face.
“Good,” Liam murmurs before leaning forward and capturing Theo’s mouth once again. This time the kiss is softer, a gentle press of lips, and it feels like a promise, an assurance, a declaration as loud as if he’d spoken it: I want you to stay.
When Liam pulls away after a long moment, he just locks his gaze with Theo’s, bringing his hand up to brush a piece of hair away from Theo’s face, his fingers trailing down his face almost reverently, and Theo resists the urge to duck his head, to turn away, to pull back from the touch that’s too gentle for what he is, the look that’s too loving for what he’s done.
Because Liam doesn’t look at him like he’s a monster. Doesn’t touch him cautiously, like he’s something to be afraid of. With Liam’s hand on his face and his eyes locked on his own, he doesn’t feel broken, twisted, wrong, doesn’t feel quite so crushed by the weight of every mistake he’s ever made.
He knows he doesn’t deserve Liam. He knows he’s not worthy, not good enough to have something this incredible. And yet—somehow, for some reason—Liam wants him anyway. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to be someone that Liam deserves, but more than anything, he wants to try.
When he kisses Liam again, he makes it his own promise, his own assurance, his own declaration: I’m going to stay, I’m going to try, I’m going to love you, for as long as you let me.
And when Liam kisses back, it feels a little bit like salvation.