I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its characters. I only own Celeste. If I did Derek and Stiles would kiss at least once. For scientific research.

Song - Tear in my Heart // Twenty One Pilots

Celeste's POV

The shrill warning bell that resonated through the halls of Beacon Hills High School signified the beginning of sophomore class lunch and triggered a grumbling in Celeste's stomach.

She shoved her books unceremoniously into her locker before closing it and turning towards the renowned lacrosse star beside her.

"Look, all I'm saying is if Phoebe and Joey had gotten together, all of the couples could have shared one giant apartment. Imagine the spin-offs," the shorter girl insisted to an obviously distressed Jackson Whittemore

Jackson and Celeste had found a surprising bond through their love of sitcoms.

He would never admit this to anyone he deemed worthy enough to judge him socially, of course, but he secretly loved dissecting endless alternate endings and theories with her. Celeste didn't mind the secrecy though. It was through this connection that she saw any humanity in the emotionally detached boy, much to the delight - and suspicion - of Lydia.

"Okay, but that would ruin the realistic appeal the show offers," Jackson claimed through an annoyed huff, "Monica and Chandler's relationship was sudden enough, even with the rushed backstory."

Celeste pursed her lips slightly as they strolled side by side down the hall towards the lunchroom.

"Oh please," she scoffed as they approached the large metal doors guarding the promise land, "the show stopped being realistic the minute Monica could afford to live in an apartment of that size on her salary in New York City."

"Right?" Jackson agreed with thinly veiled excitement, as he pushed open the door and held it out for Celeste almost subconsciously.

As soon as they were faced with the mayhem of the cafeteria, the walking chin dimple's attitude did a complete 180, his posture stiffening and his face become void of expression.

Celeste rolled her eyes and pushed past him to get to the lunch line, weaving through tables of hormonal teenagers as she went.

The two fell in line to get there food in comfortable silence. It slowly moved forward and Celeste found herself lost in her own thoughts as she robotically shuffled forward every few seconds.

Her mind wandered first to the bound journal pushed hastily into the corner of her desk, but she shoved that thought away, not wanting to deal with that mess.

Then her mind began to explore itself, in regards to the intense panic attack she had experienced on the Martin's steps. Again, wanting to avoid it as she did with most of her problems, she forced herself to think of the events that happened after.

Allison had called as promised, however it ended up being Celeste providing the reassurance as she talked down her distressed friend. She found it adorable how upset Allison was over Scott leaving early, and Celeste knew that despite having just met him, her friend was already in deep.

After she hung up, she started pooling over the photos she had taken at the party. Though the atmosphere was a huge contrast from her usual muse, she figured she could at least send Allison the pictures she had taken of Scott looking at the taller girl as though she was his world to make her feel better.

However, much to her disappointment and confusion, every picture of Scott McCall was ruined by a mysterious glare over his chocolate eyes. With a camera as high in quality as the one Celeste took pride in possessing, the glare should not have been present in any of the photographs, much less all of the ones of one specific person.

Celeste placed this information in the ever growing mental folder of unexplainable oddities that had occurred since her appearance in Beacon Hills.

She shook herself free of her musings as she was presented with the rack of chips. Frowning at the dwindling supply, she reached for the last pack of Doritos at the same time as another person, leading to an anticlimactic collision of hands.

Celeste immediately darted her arm away, blinking in surprise. She turned to look at the chip competitor, a smile settling on her face as she recognized the male before her.

"Oh, sorry Boyd," Celeste apologized with a motion towards the chips, "you can have them."

She reached casually back towards the stand, grabbing a bag of Lays instead before noticing that Boyd was still staring at her in confusion.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, but there was no venom in his words, only surprise.

"You're in my econ class," she trailed off in a confused tone before her eyes widened, "it's totally fine if you don't know my name. I wouldn't expect you to, I'm still pretty new."

"No, I know who you are, Celeste," he assured with furrowed brows, "I just didn't think someone who hangs out with Lydia and her drones would know mine."

Celeste pursed her lips at the tall boy. She understood how it felt to consider yourself an outsider better than most, but she couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance as he insulted the people who had welcomed her into this school.

"Despite outdated stereotypes that continue to circulate throughout western culture, people are not defined by the company they keep," she informed him with a grip on her chips, "and they're actually pretty damn good people. I mean, yeah, Greenburg kind of sucks, but that's Greenburg."

Boyd blinked in surprise at her outburst and stayed silent as the tiny girl stared at him steadily.

"Hey assholes," some guy wearing a fedora called out from a few people behind them, "stop holding up the line."

Celeste side eyed him harshly, but moved forward.

She managed to make it down the rest of the line without further incident, smiling politely at the overworked and underpaid lunchroom workers as she went.

She scanned the lunchroom before she spotted her target and moved forward, stopping when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey dumbass, we're sitting over there," spoke Jackson from behind her with a nod towards the center of the cafeteria where Lydia and her friends were currently situated.

"Hey Jackass," she replied as she shrugged off his hand, "I'm not sitting with you guys today."

Jackson shrugged apathetically.

"Your funeral," he relented in reference to Lydia's wrath before moving away from her.

Celeste continued her trek to a table close to the garbage cans. She approached a huddled Stiles and Scott, who were whispering together in hushed tones.

She silently slid in to the seat across from them, waiting patiently for them to notice her. Scott was the first, looking at her with confusion, then desperation as he identified her as Allison's friend.

Stiles, however, took longer to notice and was still muttering as he looked up.

"Look dude, I'm sure if you just apolo- Jesus Christ," he interrupted himself mid-sentence as he noticed Celeste, managing to knock over his opened apple juice as his arms flailed in surprise.

"Hey Stiles," she said in amusement before turning to Scott, "greetings, Allison ditcher."

He smiled sheepishly at her, already knowing why she was here.

"I see you're feeling better," she observed with a raised brow, "a miraculous recovery, seeing as contracting the Bubonic plague is the only worthy excuse you could have ditching a girl as flawless as Allison at a party to be whisked away by handsome strangers."

He winced at her caustic tone, nodding feverishly as he tripped over his words in an attempt to explain.

"Yeah I- no- I didn't have the plague I just- oh god does she hate me?" Scott's ramblings were cut off as Celeste raised her hand to silence him.

"Look, I can tell you really like her," Celeste assured, "and judging by the way she's looking at you right now she really likes you too."

Sure enough, a chaste glance confirmed that Allison was staring over at Scott with doe eyes, turning away and blushing deeply when she was caught.

Scott grinned stupidly at this action and Stiles just went back to muttering to himself and blotting at the puddle of juice before him with a single, soaked napkin.

"You just need to make sure you're ready for a real relationship," she explained while handing Stiles her own napkin, "one where you can't just speed away because you get a little nervous"

Scott gulped and nodded with determination.

"I won't let her down again, I promise."

"You better not," Celeste warned with a playful smile, "but you should really be telling her that."

He nodded in understanding, and Celeste moved to get up from the table.

However, she was halted as Stiles cried out her name hastily. She turned to him expectantly, and his mouth opened and closed again, not actually having anything to say.

"Um," he improvised, "Marvel or DC?"

He winced at how lame he sounded even in his head, but Celeste smiled brightly at him, settling back into her seat.

"Now that, Stiles Stilinski," she started with enthusiasm, "is a conversation that might take all lunch."

"Are you sure you want to sit with us?" Scott questioned, earning a glare from Stiles, "Lydia doesn't exactly look happy with you."

Celeste looked over to see Lydia glowering covertly at their table, looking away when they noticed her and trying her best to seem like she didn't care.

"I'll just bake her cupcakes," Celeste shrugged it off, turning back to an overjoyed Stiles, "now, are we talking individual heroes or the institutions as a whole?"

☾ ☽

The constant internalized groan that Celeste perpetually harbored within threatened to make an outward appearance as the girl begrudgingly made her way to her least favorite class of the day: chemistry.

She had no problem with the subject itself; in fact she quite enjoyed it.

It was the teacher, Mr. Harris she had a problem with. She despised the way he called out students individually to attack his perceived level of their intelligence.

She crossed the threshold of his open doorway to see that her ever elusive lab partner, Isaac Lahey, was already seated at their table with his head cast downward.

She sensed a sadness within the quiet boy, one that went deeper than the normal emotional range of a teenager. The walls of his soul were lined with deep strips of sorrow that would take more than a few kind words to mine out.

Nevertheless, Celeste had reached out to him many times, only to be met with a blockade of flighty glances and mumbled words.

She had accepted that, for the time being, the most interaction she would experience with him would be annoyed glances between the two at Harris' chronic asshole-ism.

"Hey Isaac," Celeste offered her greetings softly as she slid onto the stool next to him.

He mumbled a greeting without looking up, causing Celeste to frown.

Stiles Stilinski chose this moment to walk into the room, or rather, into Jackson.

The hyperactive boy blanched at a growling Jackson, backing up into Scott, who in turn stumbled into a very annoyed Lydia Martin.

Celeste giggled softly to herself at the train wreck in front of her, and Isaac looked up nervously, worried that she was laughing at him.

She looked at the nervous boy and gasped as she was presented with the sight of a nasty looking bruise surrounding one of his cerulean blue eyes, his pupils dilated.

Instinctively, Celeste reached out to gently touch his face in concern, and Isaac flinched back, rocking his stool onto one leg and was unable to stop from crashing into a heap on the classroom floor.

Celeste looked at him with wide, guilty eyes as everyone stared at him in concern and amusement.

He gulped nervously at the attention being on him, causing a pang of understanding to run through her.

Naturally, she did the logical thing and purposely fell out of her chair to turn the attention off of Isaac.

Stiles and Lydia both rushed towards her, but Jackson reached her first and helped her to her feet.

"Thanks, Jackass," she said with an innocent smile, "I can be so clumsy sometimes."

"Yeah, whatever."

Celeste brushed off Lydia and Stiles' concerns with a grateful look, turning back to a recovered Isaac. She sat back down next to him, sitting again in silence.

"I accidentally hit myself in the face with a lacrosse ball," he finally spoke, "when I was practicing at home."

She observed his features as he was turned slightly away from her gaze, and could tell he was lying.

However, she decided against calling him out on it, especially since she just caused the poor kid to fall out of his chair.

"Hey man, I get it," she assured him, "I once managed to give myself a bloody nose with nothing but a Pringles can and a determined spirit. I'm like, the MacGyver of self-inflicted injuries."

She swelled with accomplishment when she managed to get his lips to twitch into a tiny half-smile and decided to press her luck a little more.

"The homework last night was brutal," she offered, "I can't believe he's piling it on so soon."

Isaac now turned to face her. His eyes still wouldn't meet hers for more than a few seconds at a time, but it was something.

"I couldn't figure it out for the life of me," Isaac replied as he ran a distressed hand through his curls, "my dad is going to kill me if it's graded."

Celeste watched with dismay as tears collected in his waterline.

She turned towards her bag resting beside her, and pulled the offending packet out of her black homework folder.

Placing it on the table, she slid it towards an apprehensive Isaac.

"Just copy mine," she said with a nonchalant shrug.

His eyes widened considerably at her offer and he reached for it cautiously with sweater clad hands.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," Celeste assured, "anything to rebel even a little against Fuhrer Harris."

He smiled softly at her, a full one this time.

"Let me know if you want to study together sometime," she added on, "I'm actually pretty good at this, believe it or not."

"Thank you," he said, finally meeting Celeste's gaze, and she was taken aback by the gratitude in his eyes.

☾ ☽

"This is so pathetic," Allison said with a bitter laugh.

The school bell had rung for the final time that day and Celeste was currently walking hurriedly next to her friend to keep up with her long strides.

"What?" Celeste asked incredulously, looking up from her phone, "No its not. You're allowed to feel things, Allison."

The two were still on the topic of Allison forgiving Scott McCall, and Celeste was simultaneously trying to reach Lydia via cellphone.

"I just can't be that girl," Allison insisted, "who is constantly pining over some guy. I didn't even want to get involved with anyone until college."

"Shit happens," Celeste shrugged, "you can't pick and choose who you like and when you like them. Besides, he genuinely feels awful, if you couldn't tell from the longing glances and angsty expressions."

They pushed open the front doors to the school as Allison mulled over Celeste's words.

It was at this moment that they noticed Scott, in full lacrosse gear, waiting anxiously at the front of the school.

Allison looked at Celeste in panic, who smirked at the taller girl.

"Look, Scott's one of the good ones, and at least he messed up first. This way you can hold it against him when you mess up, which you will," Celeste said, causing Allison to roll her eyes, "and he's obviously obsessed with you, as he should be. If he makes you happy, which he does, just forgive the poor guy already."

"You're right," Allison nodded after a moment of thought, "thank you, Cel."

"It's what I'm here for," Celeste replied dryly, "despite never having been in an actual relationship"

"You're going to make someone very happy someday," Allison assured before making her soft features stoic, "Now, do I look like I care less than he does?"

Celeste laughed, wishing her luck and pushing her towards the other half of her ship.

She observed their interactions as she pulled out her iPod and placed the headphones in her ears, blasting Twenty One Pilots.

Lydia was constantly reprimanding her for the outdated technology she possessed, claiming that her 'tired hipster shit' was inhibiting the progression of innovation and advancements in technology.

It wasn't that she was opposed to the idea of a smart phone, she simply just didn't have the money for that kind of thing. Especially since she still hadn't found a job since moving here over the summer.

She grinned at the sight of Allison and Scott smiling at each other again.

She walked through the parking lot, stopping for cars as she went.

Waving gratefully at some senior who waved her on, she reached her beloved method of transportation.

She was all prepared to leave, adjusting her helmet on her head and swinging her leg over the side.

However, as she turned the engine on she was met with a pathetic groan until it simply puttered into silence.

She cursed under her breath, hopping off and pulling off her helmet. Apparently, in all of the confusion of previous day, she had forgotten to replenish her bike's fuel tank.

Celeste stared in dismay at the problem, before jumping at the sound of Coach Finstock's voice, which carried all the way to the steadily emptying parking lot.

She sighed in relief, thinking that she could get a ride with Danny after lacrosse practice.

Plus, if that didn't work out, she could always blackmail Jackson into taking her home with his secret limited edition box set of How I Met Your Mother.

Having friends was an odd feeling for Celeste, but she was growing to like it.

Feeling better now that she had a plan, she retrieved her belongings and made her way to the lacrosse field.

☾ ☽

Being the clumsy mess of a person she was, Celeste of course managed to run straight into a lacrosse player on her way to the bleachers.

Her cheeks heated up as she looked up to see a guy she recognized as Matt Daehler from her English class.

"Sorry Matt," Celeste gushed, "I am human garbage."

"That's okay," he laughed wheezily, "you aren't garbage."

He was looking at her with a slimy grin that made Celeste so uncomfortable she averted her eyes.

"Um, thanks," she said politely, "Well, I better go before I pile drive into another unsuspecting jock."

She pointed lamely at the bleachers and started scratching her wrist as she always did when she was uncomfortable.

He nodded, still staring at her as if she was prey.

Celeste backwards walked before turning around and hurrying towards the bleachers.

Something about the guy just creeped her out, even if she felt bad for judging him without even a shred of wrongdoing.

Trying her best to get comfortable on the cold, hard school bleachers, she pulled out her borrowed copy of 'Salem's Lot and attempted to read amidst the slamming of testosterone filled bodies and Coach's highly offensive yelling.

Her head darted up at the groans of Scott McCall being thrown onto the ground by Jackson with unnecessary force.

Celeste rolled her eyes, knowing that Jackson's unsportsmanlike conduct stemmed from the threatened security of his ego.

She observed as Scott got to his feet and Coach pulled him to the side.

She couldn't hear the words being said, but judging by the way Scott tensed up, he was becoming very agitated.

"McCall's gonna do it again," Coach chanted tauntingly, much to Celeste's annoyance, "McCall's gonna do it again!"

She watched in concern as her new friend trudged back into the line, and scoffed as Scott and Jackson stared each other down.

The fragility of a teenage boy's perceived masculinity never failed to amuse her.

The shrill whistle blew, and Scott charged forward with a surprising amount of force. Celeste watched in shock as the two boys collided, and cringed at the distinct cracking sound that could be heard even from where she sat.

Scott ran off to the side and bent over in distress with a concerned Stiles trailing hurriedly after him. The rest of the team huddled around a groaning Jackson.

Celeste abandoned her book and rushed towards the huddle. She may give him a lot of grief, but she still cared for blonde boy.

Pushing through the crowd of sweaty boys, she knelt next to him on the ground, biting her lip in worry at his condition.

She reached for the point of his shoulder where he was clutching and began to inspect it gently.

Jackson had been shoving away anyone who got too close to his shoulder, but he calmed slightly at the sight of Celeste's presence, allowing her to look at his injury.

"It's separated," she informed Coach, "he needs to get to the hospital."

Celeste acknowledged briefly that Stiles and Scott were rushing into the locker room before turning her attention back to the injured boy in front of her.

"He- he can't just walk it off?" the coach asked, reluctant to call off practice.

She looked at him in disbelief before scoffing.

"I'll take him myself then," she decided before turning to Danny, "Can you go get me his keys?"

Danny nodded and ran to retrieve them and Celeste stood up, her eyes wandering as she waited.

She was shocked to see the ominous figure of Derek staring back at her from behind the bleachers.

Jackson groaned again in pain, causing her to look at him again. By the time she turned back around, Derek and his serial killer gaze had vanished and she was left wondering if she just imagined it all.

Danny came back over, having gotten Jackson's keys from his lacrosse bag on the sidelines.

The two lifted him up and supported his body as they made their way to his obnoxiously shiny vehicle.

Celeste slid into the driver's seat as Danny helped Jackson into the passenger seat, wrapping his knuckles on the hood of the car before jogging back to the field.

She started the car, praying she remembered where the hospital was as Jackson mumbled to himself about suing Scott.

"Jackson," Celeste reasoned, "if people sued for every injury that happened in lacrosse, the sport wouldn't be allowed in schools. Or anywhere."

Jackson glared at her, but shut up regardless. He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking at the girl beside him.

"Thanks," he grumbled, not too happy about the idea of someone doing him a favor, as it made him in debt to her, at least in his mind.

"I just wanted to drive the Porsche," she shrugged it off easily.

Jackson snorted, looking at her with an air of snobbish superiority.

"Being poor must suck."

"And this is why your teammates give you shoulder injuries."

"Shut up."

Celeste grinned at him before looking back towards the road.

"How did you know all that medical stuff anyways?" Jackson pondered.

"My dad is-," Celeste cleared her throat, "my dad was a doctor."

The atmosphere in the car changed quickly at the mention of her father. Celeste never talked about her family, but it had essentially become common knowledge that her dad and brother had died when she was younger.

"I'm adopted," Jackson spilled out before he could stop himself, "my parents died before I even met them."

Celeste nodded somberly, not offering any pity because she knew firsthand how much that stung.

"I still can't decide if it would have been better to not know them," she confessed, "if all the memories were worth having two of the people I cared about most ripped away from me."

"Either way," Jackson shrugged, "it sucks."

"Yeah," Celeste muttered softly, "it sucks."

At this moment, they reached the hospital that Celeste thankfully remembered how to find.

Getting out of the car and helping Jackson out, the two made their way inside, offering each other a support that was greater than words.

              
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I am so sorry. So eternally sorry to the few of you who are actually reading this (bless). For the longest time I tried to write this story, but I couldn't and I didn't realize until recently that I was stuck because I was no longer writing it down with pen and paper.

This still sucks as does everything I have ever written to be perfectly honest, but it is at least coherent now.

I hope.

That is no excuse for not updating in so long though. I only remembered when I saw a text post about unfinished fanfics. I am literal human garbage. @Darach sacrifice me now pls. If anyone is still reading this than THANK YOU SO MUCH I ADORE YOU. I will do better I swear.

Remember to stay hydrated and pray to Pepe everyday.

Song is in tribute to Twenty One Pilots nEW ALBUM HAVE YOU HEARD OH MY GOD.

-xoxo gossip girl

(belle)