During the short walk from The Curtain to Pop's, he found himself mulling over his earlier response. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay." It wasn't an entirely new concept for him; to care, but it had been awhile since he'd cared so sincerely for someone outside of his own tiny circle of friends and family. He hadn't missed the jab about her friend though. Maybe, if anything, he'd lingered on it a little longer than he should've. Was she jealous and would he have cared if she was? The scent of a bottle of cologne he got two years ago and hadn't opened till tonight told him, yeah.. he would've. Even so, he decided it was wrong to focus on that when she wasn't. He could think about what she said vs. what she actually meant another time. Another time, when it would be okay for him to throw back something about, how he'd come to see her not Sarah.
Wyatt thought back to Bakersfield and the plethora of girls he'd shared more than just a few joints with. He remembered shrugging away more than once at the touch of unwanted perspiring skin, after he'd got whatever they were willing to give him for a bag of weed and a smile and chance that maybe he'd liked them back. Maybe a few of them he had. At least enough to keep them around for a repeat show in the back of his old Subaru. This wasn't that though. He could tell because he didn't want to pull himself away from her. As they neared the diner, Wyatt let his head shift a little, so it was easier to look at her. It was an confusing thing to feel when he also kind of felt responsible for what she may or may not tell him tonight. He sensed the turmoil beneath her composed exterior, a turmoil that mirrored his own in some obscure way. He took a breath and turned back around to face the door in front of them both, as he leaned forward and held it open for her first. Her accepting his offer was a small victory, but one that felt significant amidst the weight of their recent less amicable shared history.
He picked up his straw, twirling it around in his glass, as he watched her retreat further into herself. Her gaze lingered on him, searching for something he couldn't quite decipher. And as she spoke the name "Alice," he sensed the weight of her words, a glimpse into a past haunted by loss and immeasurable grief. The kind you don't get from turning down a date or your dog getting run over by a stranger's car, but the kind that left wounds and scars that had you climbing over two people to escape just the memory of it. She breathed and opened up, her voice tinged with nostalgia before fading into the shadows of her memories. It was a reminder of the innocence they had both lost, a stark contrast to the pain and sorrow that now defined their lives. Though, he'd be foolish to claim to anyone that he'd felt this kind of pain before. This was ancient. Something he'd only read about in books. The kind of pain that left the protagonist hollowed out and unable to ever return to who they'd been before.
Leah's confession came in fragments, each word heavy with the weight of her regret. The image of her running into the inferno, fuelled by desperation and determination, lingered in his mind like a ghost haunting the edges of his consciousness. And as she lowered her chin to rest upon her folded arms, he felt another surge of empathy wash over him. In that moment, Leah seemed smaller, more fragile than he had ever seen her. And yet, there was a strength in her vulnerability, a quiet defiance that refused to be extinguished. He wondered if she knew that.
He wanted to tell her about Seb. To lean across the table and tell her in his own words that he was more like her than she realised. That he too, had lost his best friend. Would a movie about some underground night club have sent him crawling over his friends tonight too? He didn't know. What he knew was there wasn't a night that went by him that he didn't get trapped there again. That he didn't smell the scent of sweat, metallic undertones and blood. That he didn't hear the same band, monstrous growling or screams that had him fleeing to the tunnels beneath. He told himself he'd grabbed Seb. That they'd both been there together, running, scrambling through the dark till they found that open water pipe and managed to squeeze their bodies through to safety. But, his dreams told him something else.. that after seeing the men fall to the ground and against everything he and his favorite science books knew shifted into what could only be describe as some kind of nightmarish beast, that he'd left Seb, standing there and ran. And if that was true, how was he supposed to tell the girl who'd just told him, she'd burned herself alive to try and save her friend, that they were one and the same. His eyes fell back down to his milkshake. Suddenly turned off by the very sight of it.
"Alice…" he echoed her name, allowing it to linger between them once more. If Leah had summoned the courage to bring her memory back tonight, he felt impelled to at least honor it. "How did the fire start?" Was he wrong to ask for more? "Does fire shift all of us like that?" He felt horrible that he'd allowed his own curiosity and naivety to slip in between them. Especially now. However, he was still new and the last thing he wanted was to one day burn himself making macaroni and cheese for his mom, shift and rip her heart out over the burnt leftovers.
Unbeknownst to either of them, Mr. Joubert occupied a booth a few tables away, his presence unnoticed as he listened intently, jotting down tiny notes in a well-worn notebook. He had been observing Leah for a year, and this conversation unfolded exactly as he had imagined, now becoming a tangible reality before his eyes.
The way he said her name felt like sandpaper as he weighed the taste of it upon his tongue. Part of her almost lashed out, almost entirely blinded by the fact that he’d never come to know how precious something as simple as the girls name was, but she was also offering up pieces of her life without giving too much away. And even she couldn't damn him for that. Afterall, it was her way of ensuring that no matter how much she held out to him within her open palm, it would never be enough to cause enough harm to matter. After so many years - decades, even, it was the only way that Leah knew how to remain in the present, while also, subtly, living in limbo that an immortal life would forever encapture.
Hues flicker upwards in an instant as he asks for more and it coils around her heart and squeezes, barbed thorns threatening to pierce their way through if she doesn’t give him something. But he isn’t a threat, and Leah knows that. Although she was, for all intent and purpose, purely human sitting there in that diner, she’d been around long enough to know she could reach out with a singular claw and carve a wound in his throat so deeply that he’d bleed out in a matter of minutes. It’s just a question though, and Leah has to reminder herself of that a few times before her gaze softens just enough to no longer be clouded by the need to keep everything close to her chest, “I don’t know,” she mutters, brows knitting together as she mindlessly drinks from her straw, “They tried to figure it out, but they never did… Said it was just some freak accident,” What she’d suspected, and she was constantly talked out of, was that it was set by something other than natural causes. Magic. The feeling of spiders crawling hot across the back of her next, and a voice echoing quietly in the cavern of her ear wasn’t something she’d ever forgotten, nor the figure within the flame. She wasn’t crazy, no matter how many times her brother and father swore to her there was nobody else in the building. “or whatever.”
Please stop., she pleaded, somewhere in the back of her mind as she decided she didn’t want to talk anymore, choosing instead to focus rather intently on how quickly she was now getting through her shake. One glance, and she already sees Rosie setting about making more - there was nobody else inside the diner, bar a few stragglers who were clearly more interested in their coffee intake than a milkshake. Does fire shift all of us like that? “Fuck,” it’s muttered beneath her breath, in something of a raspy laugh, “Your alpha really didn’t teach you shit.” And somehow, Leah is quick to believe that the responsibility of teaching him something now falls into her lap as Rosie brings about the next two shakes. Briefly, she thinks back to the night she’d attacked and bitten Hunter, and the guilt she carried for it even now. Despite not being the greatest role model in the world, there’s been at least some effort made to offer up any kind of advice that might keep the other alive. Whoever had ripped innocence from Wyatt between their maw clearly hadn’t put much weight into guilt. After almost a century, she only wished she could be so carefree - even if she’d perfected the art of pretending. “Right, well.. No. Not exactly. Fire isn’t really something we have to worry about anymore than anyone else.” It still burned, and scarred and killed. Smoke still filled their lungs in an attempt to choke. “You were bitten, weren’t you? I figure you’d probably know at least something if you’d grown up born this way.” Unless his parents really were fucking assholes - not an improbable possibility.“It wasn’t the fire that made it happen, or well..-- maybe in some roundabout way it was, but usually when we’re born this way and not created…” Try as she might, it was always difficult to talk about this kind of thing without giving listening ears something worth listening to, and the longer she thought on it - pausing to chew at this inside of her cheek, the more irritated she grew. What, the asshole in the trench coat at the end of the counter was going out her? It settled a slight growl in the back of her throat as she lent in a little closer to the table between them, “The moon dictates what happens to the ones like you,” if she was correct at least, “And me? It’s usually an emotionally significant event that makes it happen.” And maybe that was the most heartbreaking thing of all - something so significant would stick around to haunt each and every one of them, until they took their last breath.
A crushing thought, that most of them felt their heart break well before their body ever did.













