𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗙𝗘𝗪
chapter two

              Throughout the week, Allison Argent quickly became a constant presence in Celeste's life, like a star that had drifted into orbit, unexpectedly brightening her world. At lunch, Allison would join Celeste and Lydia, settling in with the ease of someone who felt like she was meant to be there all along. Celeste marveled at how effortlessly Allison fit into their group, her quick wit and thoughtful kindness blending seamlessly with Lydia's charm and Celeste's warmth. Allison wasn't just another girl passing through Beacon Hills; she had a depth to her, a way of observing things as if she held a quiet wisdom she wasn't ready to share just yet. In the classrooms they shared, Celeste found herself drawn to Allison's attentive expression, the way her gaze softened as she absorbed the world around her. And it struck her one afternoon, amidst the laughter and easy conversation—they were all changing, shaped by each other in ways none of them could fully grasp. Celeste felt it in her bones: Allison was going to be someone who would shape her life profoundly, altering the course of her days in ways she didn't yet understand.

            Allison's presence added an unspoken strength to Celeste's days, a reminder that maybe, despite the secrets and shadows of Beacon Hills, there was room for friendship, room for new beginnings. By Friday, as the promise of Lydia's party loomed closer, Celeste was practically buzzing with excitement. She'd picked her outfit days before, running through accessories and little details with the kind of anticipation that only seemed possible in high school. Arriving at Lydia's early, she helped with the final touches, adjusting the lights, arranging snacks, and making sure everything looked effortlessly perfect. She couldn't help but feel a thrill at the growing energy in the room, the thrill of something wonderful about to unfold.

           The house began to fill as people arrived, their laughter and chatter blending into a vibrant hum. Danny was already there, a fact that comforted Celeste more than she'd admit—she liked Danny. As Jackson's friend, he was one of the few people she could count on to keep the mood light and the evening flowing. Celeste found herself perched on a stool by the kitchen island, a red plastic cup resting in front of her as she joined a lively conversation with a group of people around her. She leaned back, laughing, her attention drifting from face to face when suddenly, someone bumped into her from behind. Her cup tipped, the contents spilling across the island in a red splash.

           "Oh my god—ohhhh my god, I am so, so sorry!" came a frantic voice. "I'll get you a new one, I swear!"

              Celeste turned to see Stiles Stilinski, his face a mask of panic as he looked from her to the spilled drink, grabbing paper towels with desperate haste. Amused, Celeste let out a laugh and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "It's okay, Stiles," she said gently, her touch lingering a moment longer than necessary. He froze under her hand, his eyes going wide as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening.

           "No, no, that drink was probably, like... really good," he stammered, the words tumbling out nervously as he leaned forward on the counter, his attempt at being smooth backfiring as he accidentally placed his hand right in the puddle of spilled drink.

           Celeste couldn't help but laugh again, her smile widening as she gently lifted his hand, handing him another napkin. "You might want to be careful there," she teased, the warmth in her gaze only adding to his blush.

              Stiles' cheeks flushed a bright red as he stammered, "Uh... I—I have to go. Like, right now."

          Before Celeste could say another word, he disappeared out of the kitchen, his steps hurried. She watched after him, a mixture of amusement and curiosity flickering in her eyes. There was something endearing about him—something that felt real, unlike most of the guys she'd met in Beacon Hills. With a small smile to herself, she turned back to the conversation around her, though her thoughts drifted back to Stiles every so often, wondering what other quirks hid behind those wide, nervous eyes.

          By Monday, the entire school was buzzing with talk of the party, snippets of gossip and laughter filling the hallways. Celeste stepped into her history class, her eyes scanning the room for a familiar face when she spotted a girl sitting beside her seat, nervously bouncing her leg. Catching the girl's anxious energy, Celeste offered her a warm smile, feeling a sense of calmness settle over the girl as she relaxed. As she sat down, Celeste absentmindedly began to twirl her pen, letting it spin between her fingers as she sketched on the corner of her notebook—a triskelion, an ancient symbol she and her uncle used to draw together back when they were close. She hadn't seen him in years, but drawing it felt grounding, like a piece of her past was still with her.

           The teacher entered, calling for attention as he announced an upcoming project—a historical presentation that would be done in pairs. As he began to call out names, pairing students together, Celeste's attention drifted until she heard her name.

           "Harrow and Lahey!" he announced.

           She turned, looking around to spot Isaac Lahey seated at the back of the class, his head lifting from where it rested in his hands. He met her gaze, a quiet curiosity in his blue eyes as a small, tentative smile curved his lips. She'd noticed him around before—Isaac was quiet, often keeping to himself, but there was a depth to him she'd always found intriguing.

        When class ended, she walked over to him, her energy bright and welcoming. "Hi, partner!" she greeted with a grin, extending her hand toward him. ''I'm Celeste''

           He hesitated, his gaze flickering from her face to her hand before he finally took it, his touch warm and gentle. "Isaac," he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of shyness.

"Well, Isaac," she replied with a playful smile, "want to meet in the library later to get started''

            For a moment, he looked like he was weighing his options, his gaze flickering with something she couldn't quite read. But then he nodded, his expression softening as a slight grin tugged at his lips. "Yeah, that works."

      Scott was just closing his locker, threading the lock through with a satisfying click, when he felt a sudden grip on his arm. Before he had a chance to question it, Stiles had pulled him off to the side, pressing him firmly against the cold wall out of sight.

          "Hey, come here," Stiles whispered urgently, his eyes flickering with a rare intensity.

        "Stiles, what—what are you doing?" Scott's voice was laced with confusion as he glanced around, not sure what had his friend so on edge.

          "Shh. Just, listen. Tell me what they're saying." Stiles nodded his head toward the principal's office, where two officers stood in hushed conversation with Principal Thomas. Scott leaned around the edge of the wall, squinting to catch sight of them, and tuned in, focusing on the low murmur of voices just within range.

         One of the officers spoke in a firm tone. "We need everyone under 18 to be in their homes by 9:30 p.m. We'd like to institute the curfew effective immediately."

          The principal's voice wavered. "Look, I don't know if—"

            Scott didn't catch the rest, his concentration fading as he processed the implication of a curfew. He turned to Stiles, brow furrowed. "A curfew? Because of the body?"

         Stiles released him, throwing his hands up in exasperation, his usual humor replaced by a simmering frustration. "Unbelievable! My dad's out combing the woods for some 'rabid animal' while the actual psycho who killed that girl is out there, walking free, doing God knows what!" His voice dropped in frustration, a low hiss that bristled with anger.

        Scott frowned. "Yeah, well, you can't exactly tell your dad the truth about Derek," he pointed out, aware of the limitations that kept them quiet, bound to secrecy.

           Stiles scoffed, determination flashing in his eyes. "No, but I can do something."

        "Like what?" Scott asked, an edge of caution in his tone.

              Stiles paused, a look of resolute clarity settling on his face. "Find the other half of the body," he said, the words carrying a weight of decision. He didn't wait for a response, pivoting and heading down the hallway with a determined stride, leaving Scott standing alone, still trying to process everything.

              As Lydia excitedly introduced Allison to a group of hot jocks, Celeste was making her way to the library, her mind buzzing with thoughts about her upcoming project with Isaac. The bustling hallways were filled with chatter and laughter, but she was focused on one thing: the presentation that awaited her. The cool air hit her as she opened the library doors, a small sanctuary amidst the chaos of school life.

          Scanning the room, her eyes fell on Isaac sitting at a table, his head bent over a piece of paper, scribbling something down with intense concentration. There was something about him that made her feel at ease, a quiet charm that drew her in. She walked over, her heart racing slightly—not from nerves, but from anticipation. As she approached, Isaac looked up, a shy smile breaking across his face.

       "Hi," she greeted, settling into the chair opposite him, her presence bringing a lightness to the otherwise silent space.

         "Hey," Isaac replied, his voice soft yet warm, as if he was welcoming a long-lost friend.

        Celeste leaned forward, excitement lighting up her features. "So, for our historical presentation, what do you want to focus on?"

            Isaac glanced at her, then shook his head slightly. "You can choose. I'm fine with whatever."

           Celeste thought for a moment, tapping her fingers against the table. Then her eyes brightened. "Oh! What about the Salem Witch Trials?" she suggested, her enthusiasm evident in her tone.

   Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Is that the one where they burned witches?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

                 Celeste shook her head, smiling. "Not exactly. It was where people accused of witchcraft—mostly women—were put on trial. They burned some, but many were just executed or imprisoned." She paused, gathering her thoughts before diving deeper. "The Salem Witch Trials were a dark chapter in American history that unfolded in 1692 in Salem, Massachusetts, when a wave of hysteria led to the accusation of numerous individuals, mostly women, of witchcraft. Triggered by a mix of fear, superstition, and social tensions, the trials saw neighbors turning against each other, fueled by religious fervor and personal grievances. In a climate of panic, innocent people were convicted based on dubious evidence, such as spectral visions and confessions coerced under pressure. By the time the trials ended, twenty people had been executed, and many others suffered imprisonment. Ultimately, the trials became a cautionary tale about the dangers of extremism and mass paranoia, reminding us of the need for justice, reason, and compassion in the face of fear."

            Isaac watched her, captivated by the passion that illuminated her face. It was as if she was painting a vivid picture of a time long past, her words weaving a tapestry of emotion that made the historical events feel immediate and relevant. He found himself nodding along, lost in her enthusiasm, completely zoned out until she snapped her fingers in front of his face.

         "Hey! So what do you think?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with expectation.

        Isaac blinked, momentarily dazed. "Oh, um, yeah," he stammered, trying to gather his thoughts. "That sounds great. I mean, really interesting."

       Celeste grinned at him, her heart fluttering at his shy approval. "Awesome! I think we can make this presentation really engaging. Maybe we can even do a visual presentation to bring it all to life." She leaned back, her mind racing with ideas. Isaac nodded, his smile growing just a bit, and for the first time.

          Stiles was having a very different kind of day at the hospital. While Scott snuck off toward the morgue on one of their missions, Stiles found himself pacing anxiously, his mind racing with thoughts of supernatural dangers. Just as he walked past the waiting room, his heart nearly stopped—there, sitting side by side, were Lydia and Celeste, engrossed in conversation.

         He did a double take, swallowing nervously as he debated whether to approach. Gathering every ounce of courage he had, he walked up to Celeste, words rushing out in a blur. "Hey, Celeste! Uh, you probably don't remember me, but I sit, like, two seats to the left of you in English, and, uh, I really feel like we had this, uh, connection? At the party, you know, when I... spilled your drink? I'm still really sorry about that, total waste of alcohol—am I right?"

         Celeste looked up, pulling her earphones from her ears with an amused smile. "Sorry, I didn't get any of that," she said, holding up her earphones. "Can you repeat it?"

         Lydia, catching her friend's amused expression, glanced up at Stiles, her own brow raising in curiosity. Stiles stammered, cheeks going bright red as he fumbled for words. "N-no, sorry, I'll just... sit down."

         "You sure?" Celeste asked, her tone warm as she studied him. He nodded quickly, sliding into a chair nearby, his gaze flickering to her every so often.

          Just then, Jackson walked out from the exam room. Both Celeste and Lydia stood, approaching him with concern. "Are you okay?" Celeste asked, her eyes searching his face.

          Lydia chimed in, "Did they do it?"

           Jackson offered a reassuring smile to Celeste. "Nothing I can't handle," he replied, then turned to Lydia with a smirk. "He says not to make a habit of it, bur one cortisohne shot wont kill me ."

        Lydia's face broke into a satisfied smile. "You should get one before the game, too—the pros do it all the time. You want to be a high school amateur or go pro?"Before kissing him.

       Celeste rolled her eyes playfully, glancing around and noticing Stiles staring at her from across the room. When she met his gaze and smiled warmly, his expression turned to one of utter shock, his face going pale before he quickly turned away, barely concealing his grin. 

        Oh my god!!! The love of his life!!! Smiled at him!!!

                 As she walked out of the hospital with Lydia and Jackson, Celeste couldn't help but smile to herself. There was a part of her that enjoyed seeing Stiles' flustered reactions—there was something endearing, something refreshingly genuine about him. For a brief moment, she looked back, catching one last glimpse of him as he tried to act nonchalant, and her smile grew just a little wider.

           Celeste flopped down onto the soft, inviting couch in the living room, the faint sound of laughter echoing from the kitchen where her parents were preparing dinner. The aroma of spices mingling with the sweetness of baked goods drifted through the air, filling the house with a comforting warmth that wrapped around her like a favorite blanket. She sighed, a small smile creeping onto her face as she listened to the playful banter between her mom, Cecilia, and her dad, Dominic.

       "Do you really think you can beat me at this?" her mother teased, her voice light and filled with laughter. Celeste could picture her mom standing at the stove, stirring a pot of their family's favorite pasta sauce, her hair tied up in a messy bun, a few strands falling to frame her face. Celeste loved these moments, where the world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the three of them.

        "Just you wait!" Dominic replied with mock bravado. "I've got a secret weapon—a dash of my special spice blend. I'll take the crown for Best Chef tonight!" Celeste rolled her eyes playfully, even though her heart swelled with affection. Her dad had always been the jokester, the one who could lighten any mood with a quip or a silly face.

         She leaned back against the cushions, her mind drifting as she reflected on the day. School had been exhausting, filled with the usual drama and gossip that felt so trivial in the grand scheme of things. But at home, everything felt right. It was a sanctuary where laughter drowned out worries and where love surrounded her like a cocoon.

       "Celeste!" her mom called, breaking her reverie. "Can you set the table? Dinner will be ready in a few minutes!" Celeste hopped up, pushing her hair back and smiling at the thought of sharing a meal with her family. As she made her way to the dining room, she grabbed plates from the cabinet, feeling the familiar warmth of home settle deep within her.

        Once the table was set and her parents began plating the food, Celeste couldn't help but join in the teasing. "Dad, I hope your secret spice doesn't ruin dinner like the last time!" she laughed, watching as Dominic pretended to be offended.

         "Hey, that was one time! And it was an accident," he shot back, his grin revealing that he took it all in stride. They continued to chat and joke, the atmosphere lively and inviting, each moment a reminder of how much she cherished these simple interactions.

      As they gathered around the dining table, the rich aroma of the pasta sauce enveloped them, mingling with the scent of freshly baked bread that her mom had prepared as a side. Celeste twirled her fork through the spaghetti, the strands glistening with sauce, and took a bite, savoring the flavors that reminded her of home. Her parents exchanged stories about their day—Dominic recounting a funny mishap at work while Cecilia chimed in with a tale of a particularly chaotic grocery run. Laughter bubbled up, echoing off the walls, and for those moments, everything felt perfect, as if the world outside ceased to exist.

           Celeste smiled, feeling the warmth of their love wrap around her like a blanket. Yet, as the last bite of her meal slipped away, the weight of her thoughts crept back in. She glanced at the clock, and with a reluctant sigh, said, "I think I'm going to head to my room." Her parents nodded, their smiles still lingering, but Celeste couldn't shake the feeling that something was just out of reach, something she couldn't quite grasp.

    With that thought trailing behind her, she walked down the hallway, the familiar creak of the floorboards grounding her in the moment.

               Celeste plopped down at her desk, the soft glow of her computer screen illuminating her face as she typed in the strange words that had been appearing on her wrist. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, searching for answers, for anything that might explain the mysterious symbols that seemed to taunt her. The search results were a jumble of vague references and unrelated articles, leaving her frustrated and more confused than before. She let out a heavy sigh, feeling a sense of unease wash over her as the cursor blinked back at her, mocking her curiosity. With a defeated shake of her head, she turned away from the screen, letting her body fall back onto her bed

                 She glanced down at her wrist, the soft skin usually unmarked now bearing a faintly shimmering word. She traced her fingertip across it slowly, feeling a strange chill travel through her fingers as she outlined each letter: BUS It was cryptic and unsettling, just like the words that had come before it. She had no clue what it meant or what it was meant to tell her, and that unnerved her more than she'd like to admit.

               She had dealt with these mysterious words for years now, a language that seemed to come from somewhere outside herself. Sometimes they were warnings, and other times, they seemed to hint at events or people, a strange foretelling that left her with more questions than answers. Tonight, though, it felt different. Something about the simplicity of the word unsettled her, and she found herself tracing it again and again, hoping that somehow, through touch alone, she might uncover its meaning.

               A soft sigh escaped her lips as she rested her arm on her bedspread, feeling the weight of unanswered questions settle on her chest. It wasn't just about the word—it was about what the word might mean in a place like Beacon Hills, where secrets were buried just below the surface, and where even the simplest things could turn out to be deadly. She closed her eyes, willing herself to calm, telling herself that if it were truly important, the meaning would reveal itself when the time was right. It always did.

                 Still, her mind continued to race, her thoughts refusing to quiet even as exhaustion settled into her bones. Her fingers twitched, tempted to trace the letters again, to somehow will the truth into existence. But eventually, the exhaustion began to win, her body yielding to the demands of sleep. She turned on her side, tucking her arm under her pillow, hiding the word from sight as if that would somehow ease her mind. Her breathing slowed, and the room around her fell silent, the world outside shifting softly in the quiet of the night.

               In the stillness, her thoughts finally began to slip into dreams, though they held onto a faint echo of that word: "bus." It pulsed faintly in her mind like a whisper, weaving through her dreams, an insistent hum in the backdrop of her unconscious. She couldn't quite shake the feeling that the meaning would eventually find her—she only hoped that when it did, she'd be ready.

NOTES━━━━━━━━━━ isaac welcome <33 honestly in the first draft he was supposed 2 appear when he does in the show but i want tessie to have moments with him before he got bit! A new word appearing!! what!!! I want to include alot of tessie moments with her parents since its very important for the story that you see her relationship to her parents ;))