The Blue Werewolf
Part II: The True Hearted
C/By: Kenjaje
Edited by: raVen
Chapter 12:
To The Way Things Were Before
November 1: 12:01 AM: Moonlit Street
For a second, she wondered if her eyes were tricking her, but her feet already knew what she wanted to do. She ran to him with a tired pace, and her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and her cheek brushed against his. He was real.
"I thought you were a werewolf forever." She told him. For the longest time he did not respond, nor did he move; she had long ago expected to feel his arms wrap around her but they did not. She drew back to see his head hanging with guilt, and his ears draped in a melancholy cloak over his shoulders. "…What's wrong?" She asked, confused at his sadness when he should be relieved.
"Stitch…almost bite Lilo." He said softly.
"Almost," she said, wrapping her arms around him once again, "but you didn't."
"And…was mean…"
"You skipped the other night, it's not—"
"And…destroyed…"
"No you didn't; you didn't touch—"
"But…worst—"
"Stitch—"
"When Lilo try to help—"
"Stitch I—"
"Stitch wouldn't—"
"Listen!" Lilo shouted; Stitch's lips paused mid-sentence. Lilo looked slightly downward at his pearled eyes blackened with grief. "I don't care…about any of that." She began softly, "I don't care about what you did, or didn't, do—it doesn't matter. All I really care about…is you." She watched his eyes droop, as though he felt he couldn't look at her. "I mean," she added, lowering to her knees, "I care about how you feel. Ever since I found out you really were a werewolf…I just didn't want you to feel like you were alone or something. But I never understood if I was helping or just…getting in the way."
"Naga!" He retorted quickly. Now she couldn't look at him. His arms finally rose. "Lilo understood. Stitch not understand Lilo."
"Stop blaming yourself!" She growled.
"But Lilo not do anything bad, Lilo not werewolf. Stitch werewolf." Lilo's arms gripped tighter.
"You know," she said, almost with anger, "when Nani grounded you, I told her that she might as well have grounded me. Even though you tell me it's all your fault and you are the werewolf, I don't believe you. I was just as much a werewolf as you were."
Stitch didn't fight her this time. His body slumped forward, and began to quiver every few seconds; Lilo felt something fall onto the back of her neck, and heard him sniffle. She started to rub his back and immediately the quivering and sniffling was more frequent; he was stifling, but he was breaking down.
After a moment, Lilo wondered if she had made him start. The thought made the corners of her eyes swell. "Don't cry." She told herself. "Stitch needs someone to cry on, not cry with." She heard a loud sniff, and his hands closed tightly on her shirt, pulling on the fabric. She moved from his back to his shoulders.
"You'd think we'd be happy," she realized, "There's no more werewolves, no more monthly fear, no more curse; and instead of crying with joy…he's crying because he's sad…" Nonetheless, Lilo couldn't help but feel a sense of being needed; she felt that, by allowing her to support him, she was becoming a closer friend than ever before.
Neither of them quite knew for how long they stood, for they still embraced even after Stitch's tears had emptied. Another cloud passed by overhead, and suddenly Lilo began to feel shy and embarrassed. She was quickly aware again that they were in the middle of the street, and on both sides were houses with lights blazing in the windows. Her cheeks went crimson, her hands stopped, and she broke away from him gently. "W…we should get back." She suggested, rather quickly. "Unless…you still want to go trick-or-treating?" Stitch tried to hide the streaks on his cheeks.
"J-ju?" He asked back, his voice still quivering and his nose still sniffling.
"Not really." She replied, complying with his feelings by pretending like she didn't notice his outbreak.
"Tambia." He told her calmly, his voice back to normal.
"All right then…let's go home." She said, and motioned for him to follow along. But he followed at a distance, staying a foot or two behind her. She glanced back occasionally; he still seemed sad. Once, when she glanced, he was turned around, looking back up at the moon. She approached him slowly, and put an arm across his shoulders. "It's ok," she whispered, understanding his posture, "you're not like that anymore." She gripped his hand, and twined her fingers. "You were never like that." She started to walk again, and he went with her hand.
Lilo gasped, bolting upright in her bed; her right hand crossed her chest and she clasped at her shoulder. She felt the tear in the fabric. A cold, damp sweat had collected on the collar of the black shirt she wore the night before. Fragments of her dream came back to her in frayed strands of teeth gleaming and eyes flashing; whatever it was, it was a nightmare it seemed.
Her hands fell atop her knees, and from her right knee shot a very sensitive pain. She bent her knee close to her chest, pushed away the covers, and saw that there was a band-aid covering a thick, dark bruise. She couldn't remember how it got there, or where the bruise specifically came from. The room began to brighten as a cloud moved away from the sun. Lilo glanced down at the side of her bed, where she heard a snore. Stitch's head rested upon his arms, leaning onto the edge of the bed. His knees supported him on the floor.
The morning before snapped into her mind; she shivered with embarrassment as she recalled the few seconds where her eyes opened, and her nose touched his. She shuddered as she thought about what would have happened if she hadn't woken up. The thought made her stomach quiver as if she didn't want to think about it, but it made her heart leap as if she did want to. But her stomach took control.
"Hey." She shook him. He woke easily. "That's a weird way to sleep." She commented, hiding her embarrassment from him while he loosened his stiff arms and relaxed his aching back. "Why were you sleeping there?"
"Lilo asked." He replied.
"When?"
"Walking home, Lilo trip and fall, and said was still afraid. Asked Stitch to keep company until sleep. Stitch stayed…guess Stitch fell sleep too." He explained. However, he did not tell the whole story. He left out pieces on purpose, and it was not the full truth. She did fall, and when she did, she landed on a sharp stone. Stitch helped her to her feet, but she fell because she had fallen asleep from the stress of the night.
He then picked her up and carried her by her knees and back. Along the way, her arm rose to his shoulder, and her hand lightly placed itself on his neck. He carefully, so as not to wake her, scaled the wall of the house to the tower, where he opened the window and slid in, setting her down on her bed. He took off the werewolf costume, and retrieved supplies to clean the injury to her knee. Once he was done, he covered her, and stood to go to his bed, but she mumbled something to him in her dream. He turned back around, and quietly sat against the bed.
"She told me…it wasn't my fault," he thought, looking over at her face. "She says…I'm not to blame. I don't get it!" He lowered his head, burying his eyes in his arms. "When I cause trouble and deny it, I get blamed. Now I'm causing trouble and accepting it, and she's yelling at me telling me not to blame myself!" His mind went quiet, and he settled down.
"She believes that the werewolf was like a different person; that's why she says it's not my fault. I believe that even though the werewolf was a different side of me…I still had to take responsibility for its actions, because everyone would blame me anyway if they knew. They wouldn't see a werewolf destroying things…they'd only see me." He paused and sighed. "But she's right…and she said she cared about me. And…she didn't even get angry at me…not even after I attacked her—tried to bite her! She really did care…"
"Hello…"
"Gaba?" Stitch's eyes blinked as his mind snapped back to the present.
"You looked like you fell asleep again." She told him. "And you're blushing." Stitch turned away. Although it was hard to tell, she somehow always saw it on his face. Stitch looked back to her, his expression was suddenly solemn, or getting solemn.
"If Stitch not tell Lilo yet…thanks." She smiled heartily. "Thanks for lots." His voice drifted warmly. She rubbed his head, which made his blush come out more, and she started to speak, when she was interrupted.
"Hey Lilo!" Nani's voice traveled through the air, shattering it like glass. "Help Bo with his things!" Lilo sighed and started to get out of bed. She took a couple steps toward the elevator, but then stopped and turned back around. She looked at Stitch, their eyes meeting. He saw the most peculiar glimmer in her eyes.
"And if I haven't told you yet…" She drew close, her hand cupping under his chin. He thought she was going to whisper something in his ear, but her lips stopped short at his cheek; it was much longer than her usual her pecks. A wave of warmth rippled through Stitch's body, making him shiver and causing all the hair on his body to stand on end. His ears twitched, half clueless toward what was occurring. She drew back, and he looked at her, but her eyes weren't able to keep contact with his.
"Lilo! Wake up! Don't make me come up there!"
"I'm awake, I'm awake!" She shouted back, taking the excuse to turn her head. "Uh…hey Stitch, what'd you do with the book?" He pointed to her bedside table, where the book resided, and her costume mask atop it. She thanked him and grabbed both, running to the elevator. He paused to muse the moment over, and followed her when it came back up. When she arrived to her old room downstairs, it was nearly empty of belongings, and Bo stood in the middle of it. "You're leaving?" She asked, as Stitch came through the door.
"Yup, I gotta go. Only other flight back to Texas in a couple days, s's'now'r'never." Lilo walked slowly toward him, and held up the book in her hand.
"Here…you can have this back," she said, as he took it with his bare hand, "we don't need it anymore." He held it in both hands, his massive knuckles bulging around its corners. "Stitch is back to normal…the curse is gone. But we were wrong; Stitch wasn't the True Hearted." Bo smiled.
"I know." Lilo gave him the eyebrow.
"So…you knew all along it was me?"
"No. I really thought it was Stitch, until I realized it was you."
"When did you realize that?" Bo didn't respond; he merely looked down at Lilo with a smile. Something caught Lilo's attention; something about Carlos seemed to stand out suddenly. She couldn't quite place it; it was something about his face. It wasn't his smile, it wasn't his tan, nor was it his strange accent. Her eyes wandered to the strangely white hair.
"What's he doing?" Bo asked. Lilo watched as Stitch started to sniff his shoes.
"Oh," Lilo said rolling her eyes, "he's just—stop it Stitch, it's rude!—he said that you smelled uh… 'funny', but I told him it was just because—"
"Bo not smell anymore!" Stitch announced. She wondered why he was so ecstatic about the smell, and then he added, "Bo not smell like—!" The man put a hand around Stitch's mouth. Lilo's eyes widened.
"Smell like a…you mean, you're—"
"Shh." Bo leaned in close to her, and whispered, "You were the one that said I was the werewolf hunter, remember?" He drew back and let Stitch go. "I just never confessed. Not that it matters anymore."
"Boy was I a little off." She said with a smirk. He let out a chuckle.
"So does that mean…you were the big one? Your hair…"
"Yeah…that'd be me. I stand out like a roman candle don'I?"
"Yeah…you did," she told him. "All the other werewolves were on four feet instead of two, except you. You looked like the werewolves from the movies; what's up with that?"
"The curse is like any disease I suppose," Bo shrugged, "it mutates and changes over generations." He smiled, "But that's all in the past. An' I see Stitch's back t'normal. Good."
"Eh." He replied with a grateful smile.
"Hey Bo?" Lilo piped.
"¿Qué?"
"There's…one thing I don't get."
"And that is?"
"I was sure Stitch was The True Hearted…but it was me. And I don't get why." Bo put a hand to his chin, looking Lilo over. Then, he noticed the headband in her hand.
"Ah…I thin'I get it." He took the book in his hands and opened it up with precision. He then kneeled down, took the headband from Lilo and, put it on it on her. "A werewolf, but not quite; one who is able to change at will." He read, and took the mask away. "When the desire is great, he…" Bo paused, and let out a hearty chuckle. "She with a True Heart," he looked at Lilo, "will come to dispel the curse for all." The book shut with an ancient thomp and Bo watched as she slowly understood. He smiled, and handed her the book.
"Here, you keep it." He said.
"Why? I can't read it. And besides, won't you want to read it later?"
"You can now; the curse is gone, so the book is actually readable by all now." She looked to make sure. "An' even if t'were still in scribbles, with the way you read those words last night, I don'think it woulda mattered. You took a glance at those letters for five seconds and spoke 'em like you knew 'em all yer life. I scrut'nized at those same letters for five years an' never got one-a the dang things translated." He smiled and tousled her hair.
"An' I don't need to read that thing to remember what's gone on," he added, "Besides; I'd rather give it to you in case you forget. Then you can read it and remember all about how you saved Stitch, me…and all the other poor souls out there…" He paused, and mused over his words. "You did good kiddo. I thank ya." She watched as he picked up the last of his things, and headed out the bedroom door. They followed him eagerly down the stairs, and saw him off at the front door. That was the last that Lilo and Stitch had ever seen Carlos Lo Bo.
"Well, Halloween's over so you know what's next!" Exclaimed the cheery of voice of 625 as he strung up a few wreaths.
"What on this filthy planet are you doing?" Gantu snapped lowly.
"Decorating for Christmas, duh." Gantu growled and left the room, mumbling under his breath. 625 picked up another wreathe and tried to get it onto a place that was a bit too out-of-reach for him. He jumped up a few times, but his weight was more than apparent. "Guess I'll have to use the ol' scaling technique." He said, letting loose his lower set of arms. However, he noticed, after putting up the wreath, that something was missing. He stared at his lower left palm. "That stain's finally gone." He said to himself. "Still never found out where it came from." He thought for a minute, and then shrugged. "Too much work; I need a sandwich break." With that he hopped down from the chair, and went into the kitchen.
Atichura…
Igabata
(The End…
This time for real)