Everyone kept telling her that it had been fifteen years, and yet, she can't remember a time when she wasn't. It was a peculiar sort of sensation to constantly trudge through, where she could not remember any sort of life prior to a few weeks ago, but she didn't feel as though she'd suddenly burst through the thin bubble surrounding the after life and this one. It was enough to keep her up at night β keep her up at night it did, long hours into the night where she'd stare at the moon and wonder when the last time it was she'd actually seen it, aside from the fuzzy memories that hadn't quite been as clear as they'd been when Lydia's voice cracked her in half like she was a fault line, a dormant volcano waiting for eruption.
And now she was to sift through the ashes, piece together a new life, and the only thing that made sense in all of it was Scott. He was a tether, reminding her that she belonged in this skin, in this world. He was holding her in the present, keeping her from the clutches of her own mind and a dozen different pasts that all seemed more real than the one before it. She knew she still had her father, had her friends, but Scott was different. Scott was her anchor.
She couldn't manage to be in Beacon Hills, even if it was nothing more than a page in a book she wasn't sure she'd even read before, so they'd started towards the city he'd been living in for years now, Allison unsure of where she sat in the life he'd created without her. She knew he was her now, but he'd had a past without her in it. It felt like squeezing into a much too small room, forcing herself to accommodate to its size. The entire ride to his friend's place, she'd kept the windows rolled down, eager to resist the feeling of confinement. She'd forgotten what it felt like to have the wind rush through her hair, sunlight kiss her skin.
Allison offered him a thin-lipped smile as he helped her out of the car, eager to lazily trail behind him. It was somewhat odd, him ushering her inside of a stranger's house, but she tempered down her confusion to take the shape of complacence, along for the proverbial ride. Inside the house, though, came more questions than answers β not that she'd expected any of her questions answered, of course, considering she'd been holding the majority of those close to the vest even if Scott was so accommodating, so patient, so willing. His voice carried through the empty halls, and she spun around on her heel to eye him cautiously. Gravity pulled him closer to her, the way it always had (a way that felt as natural as breathing, something that had made sense even when she didn't know who he was and even now when her memories felt like secondhand stories, a life studied but not quite her own) and she allowed herself to melt into his touch. "Scott..." she trailed off, voice snagging in the uneven fabric of her throat.
Her eyes cast down to the spare key glinting in the open light in his hand, offered out to her. Carefully, she enveloped her hand over his open palm, squeezing tightly until she felt the cold kiss of the metal on her own palm. "I don't..." Allison took a sharp draw of breath, exhaling slowly. "I don't remember too many of my dreams from before," she admitted sheepishly, her free hand reaching up to brush across the top of his hair. "But I know what I dream about now, and I know what feels right. What's always felt right."
Both lips pressed together, curling back into a gentle smile. "You're my dream. Whether we're here or in a shack in the middle of the woods. I just want a life where I'm with you. No obstacles, no one trying to kill us, no excuses." A small laugh built in her throat. "Even if you are a filthy liar," she teased, taking a step closer so her chest brushed against the warmth of his torso, lacing their fingers together. "I always see you. And now, I get to dream about you inside of our house, where we get to start our family. Our life." Allison propelled slightly onto her tiptoes. "And for what it's worth, I've never loved anyone quite like I love you."
