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If you think about it, dying is a fucking asshole move. You are suddenly freed from all your problems and meanwhile leave your friends and family with an additional problem. This especially goes for dying in battle or even war scenarios: yay, no battle anymore! Except for your team who now has less chances. The only thing that helps a little is the fact that you didn't let the SUV truck run over you on purpose, but that's just a theoretical thing and doesn't support your bros in battle either.
Therefore, I really can't be mad at Liam for the look in his eyes when he enters the room. Actually, I am impressed that he only looks pissed and not even a little disgusted. Run-over bodies aren't the prettiest corpses, really, I've seen people who had their arms torn off their torsos and they were way nicer to look at than I currently am. Had I known that I'd cuddle with a tire tonight, I wouldn't had spent that much time on my hair in the morning. Or my makeup. Or my clothing. That shirt was so expensive and now I can't even pass it on or something because no one will wear the shit I died in. Do we call it fast fashion if the killer drove 60 miles per hour?
Liam comes to a stop besides the table in the practice where our friends have for some reason decided to lay out my body. (Rude as fuck, by the way. If you present me like this, no one will be able to keep me in mind as the beauty I was when I was still alive. What did I learn how to use foundation for? Huh?) He stands there like a statue, staring down at me, uptight, frowning. They've closed my eyelids but it only helps themselves, and so he can't see my dead eyes anymore, but my ghost can still float around and see him. I'm starting to feel like this is unfair in a very non-consensual way.
"You're an asshole", he says with a raspy voice, nodding slowly as if he was trying to convince himself that he's right. "I hope you know that. I really fucking hope you know that."
Oh, I know, bitch. I'm toxic, not stupid.
"Liam", Scott says. He sounds tired and looks the same way. One of Malia's hands lays on his back but she doesn't rub it and he ignores it. It doesn't really look like she really stabilises him, more like an obligation. I hope they break up soon. Bro, they're not even straight.
"What?"
"You gotta..." He doesn't finish his sentence, just shakes his head with sad puppy eyes. I guess he wanted to make sure that there are no dead people insulted or something of that kind, but I agree with Liam that this is by far not our biggest problem right now. Or their biggest problem. I don't have problems because I'm dead, of course.
"He left us", Liam states. "He did all of that shit and all of that violence and then he started some kind of weird redemption arc and died before he even put effort in it. He just left, and now people are going to say he's a hero and a martyr."
Scott doesn't reply. Mister Always-Do-The-Right-Thing apparently doesn't know what the right thing is right now.
"He got hit by a truck", Malia says.
"And now what?"
"And I think that's pretty painful. So if you think he deserves a punishment for the shit he did, dude got hit by a truck."
"Malia", Scott says and I wish I could just whisper: Scoooooott. It doesn't really help to list your friends' names when they struggle.
Both of them ignore him. "I don't want him to be punished", Liam snaps. "I don't want him to be dead. I want him to be alive and for once in his life invest in something instead of just always bumbling through by being really fucking pretty and all that shit."
Did he just say I'm really fucking pretty? Well, thank you. At least one person is able to honor my beauty. I have invested in that, by the way. I might've gotten a lot of pretty privilege in my life but usually attractiveness wants to be maintained. He'd know that if he didn't have the luck that he even looks good with the hairstyle of a dirty street dog.
Liam presses his lips together as he continues the non-existent staring contest. I don't even know why he does that right now. Bro is staring at my corpse as if I'm going to wake up and give him a headbutt. (Which I am not, but I would if possible.)
"He sacrificed his life, Liam", Scott says now, an unexpected softness in his voice. He's probably trying to calm Liam down with it. I know it isn't going to work because I've known this dude's mind long enough to understand how it works. Calm words don't help him. You need to slap the insanity out of him just like you would've needed it to do with myself. We're one of a kind when it comes to our struggles; you can't fight our fires with water. You can only fight it with fire. And unfortunately in this moment Scott doesn't have enough fire.
"No", Liam therefore replies. "No, he didn't. He didn't sacrifice anything. He just left."
"Definitely not on purpose. He didn't want-"
"I don't fucking care about what he wanted!"
Oh, now it's not about dying anymore. Pretty sure that now it's about the bullying. I can't be mad about that either because I really was a dirtbag as a teenager. I can't even say something like "Oh, I didn't know what this does to you", because let's be real, if you shoot lacrosse balls at another person you do know they'll be insanely hurt. Physically and emotionally.
Do I wish I would've been less of an asshole? Probably. Do I hate myself for it? Not really.
A quiet ringing breaks the silence. Scott pulls out his phone. Aw, man, this is really uncomfortable. Can't you turn your ringtone off during a fucking deathwatch? I'm dead, give me some respect.
"That's Deaton calling me back", he says as he gets up, Malia's hand falling from his back as if she was a puppet. "I gotta talk to him."
"I'll go with you", Malia says out of an instant. Well, well. Can't tell you why but I'm starting to get the feeling that people don't even want to sit by my corpse and stare at me. Now that's a little rude. I would almost be offended if I had a working brain that could make proper feelings.
They leave quietly, not letting the door fall shut but instead closing the door handle slowly and manually, almost as if making sure I won't wake up. As we're alone, Liam continues his staring for a few seconds before getting one of these roll stools and kicking it besides the table. He falls on it like some wet bag, then props his elbows on his knees and finally stares on the floor instead of at my face. I'm not even in my body anymore and it still got a bit uncomfortable.
"I'm not going to forgive you or something", he says. "Just so you know. I'm not going to pull the whole oh, he's dead, poor boy move."
I wouldn't have liked him to either way. If you're an asshole, you're an asshole, no matter your condition. We're on the same page here.
"And I hope you know", he proceeds, "that I'll remind people of what you did. I'll not let you slip through the cracks just because you got out of this earlier than the rest of us. If this is over and people ask if we lost someone, I'm gonna say, yeah, Brett and Lori died. And Lori was a really, really good person, and Brett was basically an asshole, and the fact that he died really didn't help any of us. Because it's not a sacrifice. A sacrifice would be if you threw yourself in front of a bullet that was supposed to hit a person better than yourself. But you didn't do that. You ate poison and got hit by a truck. That's not a sacrifice, that's stupid, and it's a fucking asshole move." He taps his knees with his fingertips, impatient, nervous. "You're a stupid asshole."
Man, I know that. No need to rub it into my face, and no need to get Lori into this.
"You know what? It actually fits so well. Toxic people dying from poison."
Oh, wow. Bro is going to be so proud of himself for making that metaphor while I already had in my head the second I noticed that I got poisoned. Also, what would the truck be in this symbolism? Get your poetry together, Dunbar.
Liam straightens up again, his eyes wandering back to my face. "You haven't thought once in your life, have you?", he asks. "Do handsome people think or do you just go through your life expecting that everything is going to play out well for you? Have you thought about that maybe you're not the hero we needed and instead just an inconvenience? I'm so going to win this battle without you, dude. You're not needed here. It's not like we're going to miss your power."
Now he's just being confusing. First he didn't want me to die and now I'm not going to be missed? I'd love to annoyedly rub my forehead now. It's the little things you miss, really.
"First you're coming at people thinking you can be a bully just because you don't have obvious mental health issues and because you're a handsome piece of shit, and because you have that jaw and these eyes and that stupid fucking hair; and you even get away with it. And then, when people might have gotten themselves back together, you come back and are even prettier and even more competent and bisexual and nice. And then you die. What the hell do you think are you doing?"
Bisexual? I didn't know that was a problem. Isn't he best friends with that gay dude? What was his name again?
Liam interlocks his fingers with each other, the knuckles becoming white from the pressure. His gaze wanders off and he shakes his head, and his eyes glisten in the neon lights of the practice.
Oh, no. Oh, no. This dude has a big fucking crush. Oh, Liam. That's so problematic. Please, I'm your bully, you can't do that. Please. This can't happen right now because it is a big-ass sign of not being over the bullying and romanticising it, and the fact that I'm dead means that I can't help him get over it and find a better guy. He's probably going to go for toxic men for the rest of his gay life now. Oh, that's so fucked.
That aside, I really should've made up for my shit and dated him when I could. But that isn't the main point now. Really isn't.
"That fucking Theo guy", he says and I instantly want to groan. I'm a player and still the only smashing I would like to do with Theo is smashing his head against a brick wall. I hate this man so much, it is not normal anymore. I hope he's straight because as a valid member of the queer community I'd prefer not to claim that dude as one of us.
"Sometimes, I get confused. He annoys me so much and I'm so mad at him", his voice gets calmer and more quiet and he starts scratching his neck, "and then from time to time I'll feel like that's good and exciting. He upsets me so much and sometimes my brain thinks that's some kind of tension in the room that needs to be resolved. But, it's really just not. It's really just that he's an asshole, and my brain has no idea how to deal with it, and that's your fault."
That is unfortunately right and I can only hope for him that he won't give in to this confusion. Theo would really be the worst of all choices. Dating a berserker would be healthier and less dangerous. Please, Liam, if you're grieving over the fact that we didn't get to fuck then the best thing you can do for me right now is fight off these pissheads, move to New York and thrive in your newfound gay life with a mentally healthy man. But don't date Theo. That won't help anyone.
Liam has his head lowered and his face hidden behind his bangs, tapping his knee in an uncomfortably fast and dysregulated rhythm. He's close to shifting, and he starts to voicelessly repeat his mantra. The mantra I've been using myself for so long, my family's mantra, the one that we never knew why it spoke to him so much more than his own pack's one.
"Three things can't be long hidden", he murmurs. "The sun. The moon. The truth. The sun. The moon. The truth. Sun. Moon. Truth. Sun. Moon-"
Truth, I think as the door opens again and Scott and Malia step back into the room. Liam goes up like a frightened deer in the headlights. His eyes are widened and his breath is shallowed, and I can't help but think it's kind of cute. The truth still lingers in the room like dark nebula.
"I", Liam says, and the glistening in his eyes transforms into a real tear. "I don't think I wanna stay in Beacon Hills after all of this."
Scott nods as he moves closer. "Totally understandable. We all went through a lot, and you're valid in wanting to leave."
Liam snuffles. "Not now, of course. We need to get this shit done, and I do want to get it done. I want to fight these pissheads, but afterwards... I'll probably move. I'll find myself some place that's completely different and where no one knows me and I can thrive and find myself... a good man. Someone who's healthy. And..."
Sun. Moon. Truth.
"And alive."
I can see Scott's gaze jumping to my body, then back to his beta. The situation is way too bad to get himself to smile, but he scoots closer and wraps his arms around his friend. "Thank you for telling me", he says softly while rubbing Liam's back. "Everyone here is going to love you just as you are, and we'll do everything in our power to support you. Trust me?"
"I do", Liam says, but it's not really words, it's more some raspy breath that sounds like human language. "Thank you."
"We're brothers, Liam. That's what family does."
Liam nods but moves away from the embrace, covering the back of his hand with his sleeve to rub the tears out of his eyes. He manages to turn around to take another look at me, then shakes his head in disapproval as if he wanted to say: I can't believe this is happening.
"It will take a while", Scott says softly, "a long while, and you'll hate it and you'll feel like shit, but, some day you'll find someone who you'll like maybe just as much."
"That won't be that difficult", Liam replies, his voice still husky from crying. "He was a big asshole, you know."
Good. That's my good boy.