“ you blamed me for the wreckage ” ( from allison bc i want angst & she's back from the dead >D )
You blamed me for the wreckage…
The wolf had grown dark in his expression, as if he’d turned in on himself hollowed by the feelings that had carved him out upon hearing those words. Like a decayed log in the woods over grown with too much moss, no center or give to hold any form of life than the leeches of the world that ate at its core. Did he blame Allison for the wreckage? No- no never once did he ever blame the Huntress for doing what it was that she thought was right. Scott could never blame someone for that – as it’s what he does, too. Swallowing thickly, words unsteadily dancing on his tongue, the tanned young man had to take another moment for himself. In fact, Allison in his eyes despite everything still felt as innocent as untouched snow. If anything… Scott blamed himself for the wreckage. Maybe if he had just stayed away, maybe if things were different – maybe if he just hadn’t gotten bit that night…. things wouldn’t have turned out the way they had. Another thick swallow and yet… no words. Pursing his lips as he tried to form them with all his might, glassy eyes scrolled over to look upon Allison’s beautiful complexion that still haunts him in many ways than one. “I don’t blame you for anything,” Scott started– having no idea where his speech would take him. It was as if he were a child all over again learning to find and feel his way through life, to stumble and crawl with weak lungs threatening to take over. His heart threatening to kick up if he didn’t stabilize and soon. “I never did.” He said as his lungs constricted tight in his lungs, hand gripping at his chest where his heart resides. “Everything that happened to you – to m…to us, It was always my fault.”
No matter their history, no matter who was right or wrong– no matter who’s fault it was or wasn’t – Scott would forever feel responsible for every little thing that went wrong in Beacon Hills. It’s just who he was and the shame he carries around on his shoulder despite trying to deal with it and come to acceptance with these terms and conditions. Was all of it actually his fault? No… but with a heart that tries its hardest to be so pure (no heart is truly pure) it’s a result. Taking his hand from his chest that tried to settle the start of chaos within his ribs, a hand reached out wanting to touch Allison – like old times, where he’d cup her face and let her say anything to him; even if it hurt. He stopped reaching, however, eyes falling to his hand that soon balled into a fist giving a gentle squeeze only to un-clench and let it fall back to his side like yarn unraveling, coming undone.
He didn’t have the right to do that to her, she wasn’t his, nor was she someone to fix. “I’m…I’m sorry,” As if the words would serve her anything good now. If anything they were just as hollow to her as he had become the moment he heard what she had said to him, eating away at him faster than any acid could.
