chapter fourteen.

HIS PENCIL BOUNCES off the table repeatedly the noise echoing inside the silence in the classroom, the bell rings fracturing the spell he was in, smoky eyes glances to the students writing rapidly on their pages. His eyes drawn to the door squeaking open his heartbeat started racing but Arthur couldn't under why. He rubs the back of his neck, nothing looks out of place.

But staying in his seat with the door left open is giving him chills, goosebumps rise on his skin like he's being watched but he couldn't see anybody beyond the darkness. He pushes back his seat ands stands, fingers latch his wrist keeping him in place.

"This is really pathetic, Arthur." A familiar voice confesses, shaking their head.

Arthur frowns, spinning on his heel, "Scott? What's going on?"

"C'mon, think for once instead of relying on other people." Scott scowled, his lips twisting in a snarl nails digging into his skin yanking him closer.

His eyebrows crease fighting a wince. "I don't." Arthur replies. He's not the smartest but he figures things out on his own and hearing try to use his fears against him sucks. Tugging his wrist is hopeless because of Scott's iron tight grip. "Let me go."

"I'm surprised your mother still keeps you around after what you done." Scott muses, eyes glaring into his with amusement.

His heart thumps faster and his palms turn moist ignoring all the memories trying to resurface, he doesn't have time for this. The door is still open but something is wrong with Scott. "Let me go."

"Make me." Scott taunts, chocolate brown shifting into a maroon red momentarily. "I'm trying to help you, you're a burden."

Arthur inhales sharply and demanded, "Why are you doing this to me?"

"I'm just being honest." Scott replies, his signature goofy smile on his lips but this time it wasn't warm, it froze his skin to the bone. "Nobody wanted to hurt fragile, Arthur, after he nearly died, again."

"Shut up." His nails no longer due into skin, the last thing he needs is Scott taunting him especially in a classroom full of listening students who can hear his insecurities.

"Can't you defend yourself?" Scott inquiries, his eyes squinting, "We're sick of fighting your battles."

"I don't need you to fight my battles." He grumbles, pulling harder. "Let me go, Scott, let me go!"

Laughter bubbles past Scott's lips, his laughter felt like a bucket of ice dropped down his shirt. He needs to leave, to close the door and away from Scott's bullshit. He's been defending himself since his father walked out the door, fighting battles for his mother and sister including his friends, Arthur never asked for them to fight for him. His nails dig into his palms as Scott confesses. "You ruin everything, including your family."

His words were arrows landing him in his chest each sentence twisting deeper, he clenched his jaw. His nose flares and punches Scott in the heat of the moment, all pain shifting into anger. He head falls back from the impact, Scott rolls his eyes unimpressed. "Always a disappointment, my fault, I expected too much" He breathes through his mouth trying to control his breathing, Scott's words shouldn't be affect him but it's Scott McCall, one of the pure ones spilling every insecurity about him.

It fucking hurts listening to one of your closest friend complains about you being there for him like you've been nothing but a weigh they're force to carry. His fingers dig into his palms as a glass bottle of rage starts cracking.

"You're worthless," Scott reminds him, yanking him close until their noses are inches apart. His eyes slit. "You should've died but you're still here, you're always here."

His face twists bewildered and hurt, "Fuck you. J - just, fuck you, Scott and your bullshit." He pulls his wrist fighting back all the disappointment and shame he contained, his shoe collided into the table besides him taking his rage of emotions on it. "Fuck you, I don't deserve this!" His fists collides with the table, again and again.

A chilling crack echoes as the wooden table crumbles but he doesn't stop, he's trying he's Goddamn best but no one notices this. He doesn't deserve this.

"Arthur, Stop!" Scott calls. He only hits harder ignoring his fist coating unusually crimson and the burning ache. "Arthur!"

His name bounces in his head like a ball, freezing he blinks the rage he felt melting away like ice cream followed by the classroom he was inside. A lock dug uncomfortably into his back from the locker he was being held against by Scott in the school hallway, a boy he didn't recognize was being helped up his face bloodied. His eyebrows pulled together clenching his throbbing hands, he glanced down nearly chocking at the sight of blood. It wasn't his.

He wanted to apologize, the words were on the tip of his tongue but all the came out was, "I didn't close the door."

* * *

A TWO DAY suspension and an apology later, Arthur holds the door open behind him for a classmate stepping inside BBHS. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip sucking a breath, dying and coming back to life would've been a lot more cooler if he wasn't go through shit for it.

His eyes fall on his knuckles and stretches his fingers then clenched them remembering how he though he had been releasing his anger on meaningless things but his mind fooled him and he beat on innocent person in the hall. Glancing around, everybody was moving at s normal steady pace talking and laughing like everything was good in the world. This is real, Arthur gulps. He regrets coming to school this morning, he should've stayed home one more day.

"Arthur?" A voice startles him.

"Goddamnit!" With his hand on his electric heart, he glances down at the fingers wrapped around his bicep following the pale arm to familiar forest greens and brown eyes behind her. "Are you trying to kill me, again?"

His 'joke' flies over her head doing nothing to ease her concern for him. "Are you okay?"

He blows out a breath, his fingers unwrapping hers from his bicep and tangling them with his warm ones. "I don't think you'll be able to handle the truth, Lydia."

The cherry red scoffs. "You underestimate what I can handle." A small smile tugs on his lips, his cherry red knight prepared to fight anybody stopping him from finding tranquility. He nearly laughs.

"We should find Scott and Stiles." Allison suggests. Arthur glances up at her forgetting she was there momentary, and nods. "They're dealing with the same thing. Probably worse."

Arthur doesn't say anything, letting Lydia and Allison lead him outside the school halls and into the parking lot where the boys should be, and spot them underneath a rooftop talking.

"You're seeing things, aren't you?" They hear Stiles announce, his voice soft sympathizing with his best friend.

Scott inches near him, doe eyes wide with alarm wondering, "How'd you know?"

"Because it's happening to all three of you." Lydia announces, tugging Arthur besides her who presses his lips together grimly. In silence, they trudge back inside school, Lydia pushing open the double doors with a cheerful step teasing. "Well, well, look who's no longer the crazy one."

Allison sighs in between Scott and Arthur. "They're not crazy."

Lydia purses her ruby stained lips, pretending to think about their suiation. Arthur found himself loving the color red the more she wore it, it makes her beauty outstanding blinding everyone who tries to compare. "Hallucinating? Sleep paralysis? Unable to tell the difference between reality and imagination?" She scoffs. Arthur rolls his eyes, the last thing he needs is for her announcement to everyone walking down the halls. "Yeah, you guys are fine."

"We did die and come back to life." Scott agrees, his thumbs between his bag straps glancing at them. "That's gotta have some side effects, right?"

The school bells rings signaling time for class.

"We keep an eye on each other. Okay?" Stiles demands, pointing a stern finger at his friends before shooting the cherry red a look. "And Lydia, stop enjoying this so much."

"What?" She pretends to be puzzled as they disappear to their classes, Arthur - fingers still laced - leads her to their shared class, Art. It's better than studying History. There's nothing he hates more than that class.

His foot taps the floors unable to control himself, a paintbrush in his unsteady hand - he doesn't whether it's the color crimson or the lack of sleep preventing his hand from fidgeting, he sighs rubbing his eyes.

"Not the steadiest hand for a future doctor." Isaac remarks besides him. He glances at him then to Lydia across from him talking to Allison then back Isaac.

He licks his lips and shrugs. "I haven't been sleeping well." He dtops the paint brush splattering red paint on the canvas, the same color blood had stained his knuckles like wine on a red carpet refusing to disappear no matter how much he scrubs. The same color mixed with brown on Laurel Hale's top half body inches away from his nose. He sucks in a breath, his heart hiccuping in his chest making him clench his eyes shut. All the horror he witnessed is gradually catching up.

"Have you tried meditating?" Isaac questions, painting his sky purple.

It's strange of him to do but Arthur chooses to say nothing and simply chuckle. "I don't think meditating helps with coming back to life."

"You're having trouble with control. What better way to control your mind with meditation." Isaac suggests, a half smile on his lips. But it falls when he spots Arthur's blank eyes gazing at the red dots on the canvas like they're holes and he's drowning in them. The blond pushes his stool back and rips the page snapping him from his daze. "Or you can start over."

He could just start over. Taking a deep breath, Arthur picks up a new brush dipped in black with a clear mind, and let's the brush touch the page. It doesn't move, leaving a dot in the middle of the page. He doesn't know what to do, there's nothing he can do. "This fucking sucks." He mumbles. "Everything is suppose to be normal again."

"We passed normal the day Peter Hale crawled into our life, Arthur." Isaac reminds him, dropping his paintbrush on the still. "I don't even know what normal means anymore but, one day we will. Free from Beacon Hills and it's fucking mess."

"Of course, we will." His lips twitched. "Although you might be living on my couch while I study to become a doctor."

Isaac scoffs flicking his forehead. Arthur grunts. "Not even blue scarps could convince me to sleep on your couch."

* * *

THE WARMTH RADIATING the heaters does nothing to warm his frosty bones, the pen flicking up and down echos in his erratic mind. He came straight from school to his bedroom having a lot on mind but now as he laid in his bed staring at the ceiling, nothing came to mind. Arthur doesn't feel right, like the drawers in his mind have been searched through and left in a wreck.

A knocks then the door clicks open a lock of curled ebony hair falls. "Have you eaten yet?" Alice questions.

"Not hungry." He retorts, his growling stomach says the opposite but he's not in the mood to get up and fetch something to eat.

"I'm making Mac and Cheese but, I like with lots of cheese and you like it the opposite way since I'm making it I'm sprinkling it with lots of cheese." Alice rants, a grin on her lips puffing her chubby cheeks hanging off his bedroom door.

"That sounds," He pauses for a word, sitting up on his bed and drops his pen on the wooden floor, nose scrunching. "Disgusting but whatever, I've got things to do." He has nothing to do but figure out what's wrong with him.

"C'mon, Art, I don't want to eat dinner alone again." The ebony pouts. "Mom isn't here, and there's a lot going on my life that I need to share."

He hesitates. Arthur can't recall the last time he relaxed with Josie, saviouring in the innocence she radiates and laughing till he couldn't breath watching stupid cliché movies she adores or being in the same room no words uttered simply appreciating each other's company. Beacon Hill has a leash around his neck jerking him back whenever he gets too far from it. Not tonight, being alone has served him nothing but misery.

"Alright but, I'm cooking dinner surprise." Arthur declears, taking a moment to decide whether to put his socks back on or not. He decides not and follows her out his room.

"Finally, something good comes from this exhausting day." Alice cheers, leaping off the last two steps. Arthur doing the same but on the third step, realizing his feelings are mutual about the entire week.

* * *

WHO LET ARTHUR CHOOSE Art? He's is serious regretting ticking the box and loathes his teacher for accepting him into his class. His sheet has been blank for the past ten minutes, whenever he tried to draw nothing came out. It was frustrating, he doesn't how anybody gets inspiration from it. Maybe it's because he's not sad enough.

"Heard you're going out with Lydia Martin." A blond besides him whispered to him, a grin slapped on his lips. Arthur nods unsure where the conversation is going since he hadn't spoken to him before. "Don't you think she deserves... better? I mean no offense, you're a decent guy but a deadly poison."

His grip on his pencil tightens facing him, "What are you on about?" He inquired, he doesn't even know him but who his words feel like the truth.

"Don't you realize that?" A grin curved the teenagers face, "You think you're saving everybody but you're the one everyone needs saving from. Everywhere you go death follows, you can keep hiding behind the selfless act but wee see who you really are, poison to anybody who gets close."

Fury surged through him like a plug plugged into the wall, the pen in his grip wracking as he raised and slams it down into his wrist. Isaac grabbed hold of him before it could break the innocent teen's skin.

The blonde's eyes widen pulling his unharmed wrist to his chest moving away, "What the fuck, man!?" The anger he felt was sucked out of him like a vacuum, eyes lingering on him.

"You were -" Arthur gulped, he heard him talking bullshit but why did Isaac look so bewildered, he should've heard better than him. "You didn't hear him talk shit?"

"I think you need a time out."

* * *

"OKAY, SO WHAT happens to a person who has a near-death experience and comes out of it seeing things?" Scott inquiries pen tapping his notepad. Seated around a pinic table during lunch surrounded by his pack, determined to figure out their antidote or coping mechanism for resurrection.

"And is being haunted by dead bodies?" Arthur piped up, leg bouncing under the table as a way to stop himself from clicking his pen on and off. "And hearing things come out is people's mouth."

"And is unable to tell what's real or not." Stiles finishes, eyes squinting under the sun.

"They're all locked up because they're insane." Isaac responses. Arthur huffs, Allison shoots him a look.

And Stiles rolls his eyes. "Ha. Can you at least try to be helpful, please?"

"For half my childhood, I was locked in a freezer." Isaac counters. A hand touches Arthur's knee calming it's bounce until it stops, his eyes finds the angel across from him offering him a reassurancing smile. His heartbeat hiccups, an innocent touch but still made him nervous. All she has to do is smile and his knees would turn into jelly all for Lydia damn Martin.

"Hi. Hi, sorry." A soft anxious voice breaks his trance, a raven haired Korean stood at the head of the table between Arthur and Lydia. "I couldn't help overhearing what you guys were talking about." Panicked looks spread around the table but the girl hadn't noticed or had but chose not to react, continuing. "And I think I actually might know what you're talking about. There's a Tibetan word for it. It's called "Bardo". It literally means "in-between state". The state between life and death."

Lydia purses her ruby red lips, her hand pulls back from his knee toying with her pen staring up at the girl with suspicion, and demands, "And what do they call you?"

"Kira." Scott answers for her, eyes glimmering with the look Arthur gets when he sees fresh pie. In the mist of chaos, Scott still manages to find some sort of peace. It made him smile glancing back at him almost with everyone else, puzzled. "She's in our History class."

"So are you talking Bardo in Tibetan Buddhism or Indian?" Lydia quizzes, taking attention away from Scott and back to the subject. Arthur's eyebrows furrowed feeling stupid.

"Either, I guess." Kira slid into the space besides Arthur, he didn't mind moving over but Stiles did when their shoulders bumped receiving a glare. "But all the stuff you guys were just saying? All that happens in Bardo. There are different progressive states where you can have hallucinations. Some you see, some you just hear. And you can by visited by peaceful and wrathful deities."

"Wrathful deities?" The words rolls off Isaac's tongue testing the word before inquiring, pen tapping his jaw, "And what are those?"

"Like demons." Kira replies, her lips presses in an modest smile. Arthur clicks his tongue, Beacon Hills always manages to surprise him.

"Demons." Stiles huffs. "Why not?"

"Hold on, if there are different progressive states, then what's the last one?"

"Death." He sucks in a breath. Dying the first time wasn't as peaceful as most claimed and he isn't in the mood to go through it again. "You die."

* * *

"IT SOUNDS LIKE your subconscious is trying to communicate with you." Deaton remarks, guiding them to the back room of his vet. The boys decided to talk to Deaton after school hoping he could help Stiles who is the only one to get signals from their subconscious.

"Well, how do I tell my subconscious to use a language that I actually know?" Stiles counters, annoyance in his tone.

"Do you remember what the sign language looked like?" Deaton questions, stopping in front of a metal table. "The placement and movement of the hands?"

"You know sign language?" Scott inquiries, astonished by the amount of hidden talents the vet has.

Deaton smiles. "I know a little."

"Whoa, you have to teach me!" Arthur insists, a beam blossoming on his lips.

Deaton chuckles nodding. "Alright. Let me give it a shot."

"Okay, the first one was like this." Stiles' index finger makes an invisible circle above his left index finger.

"That's "when"."

"Then there was this, twice." His right hand retreats back from the left and comes back.

"That's "door"."

"And this in between it." His right thumb slides out underneath his chin.

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"When is a door not a door?" Deaton translates.

"When it's ajar." Arthur answers, delighted the amount of times he secretly spent doing riddles paid off.

"You're kidding me. A riddle?" Stiles complains, his left eye twitching. "My subconscious wants to tell me a riddle?"

"Not necessarily. When the three of you went under the water, when you crossed from unconsciousness to a kind of super-consciousness you essentially opened a door in your minds." Deaton explains. It does nothing to stop the muddled look on Arthur's features.

"So what does that mean?" Scott questions, eyebrows creasing. "The door's still open?"

Deaton corrects, "Ajar."

Arthur blinks, the whole thing making his head spin. "A door into our minds?"

"I did tell you it was risky." Deaton reminds. Arthur sighs, this day couldn't get weirder.

"What do we do about it?" Scott asks the vet.

Deaton's eyes squint, "Well, that's difficult to answer."

"Oh, no, wait a second, I know that look." Stiles complains. That's the "we know exactly what's wrong with you", "but we have no idea how to fix it" look."

"One thing I do know is that having an opening like that into your mind, it's not good. You each need to close that door." Deaton warns. Arthur bites his cheek. "And you need to do it as soon as possible."

* * *

( A/N ) ooh how I've missed writing about Arthur and Teen
Wolf. Part two is where the title comes in, and
season b will wreck Arthur! I shouldn't be excited
but I am...

- TylerPoseForMe