Chapter 2 - Seeing Double

They were supposed to be meeting Thomas's brother at the corner of a small park on the edge of town. By the time the one way train to hell finally came to a proper stop at the station and the boys made their way to the meeting place, they were practically over the near death experience with the "fox," it wasn't like almost dying was anything new to them.

That didn't change the fact that they were at least 40 minutes late by the time they finally came to stand at the selected intersection, a crowded area of grassy field in which a small ice cream stand sat. Apparently, whichever branch of Wicked had set this up decided that meeting in a neutral, public area would be more comfortable for all parties involved.

Minho thought they must be shucking stupid or perhaps clinically insane. The pressing crowd of people he didn't know made him anything but comfortable and the new, potent scents bombarding his senses, colliding and mixing to form a stomach twisting chaotic mess, kinda made him want to puke.

Thomas didn't look much better, sticking close enough to Minho that their elbows bumped occasionally as his honey eyes wandered over the scene.

There were screaming children being trailed by exhausted parents that called out half hearted scoldings to no avail. Young people stealing shy glances at one another before bursting into small, private giggles. Elderly couples looking on in faux disapproval at their youthful counterparts when Minho could clearly smell their humor and nostalgic affection from a mile off.

All in all, the park was a mess; but at the same time, it was a controlled chaos, and was somehow soothing in the normalcy of imperfection. After living his entire life under constant supervision of Wicked scientists, with their pristine, white lab coats and structured, flawless trials, Minho took comfort in the wildness of reality, even if it was an insy bit unsettling at first glance.

As the boy took in the scene however, he saw no sign of the person they'd come all this way to meet. Supposedly, the boy they were looking for was identical to Thomas in every way, save upbringing; and considering the fact that Minho prided himself on his Thomas-finding abilities, he was starting to doubt this kid was here if his searching gaze hadn't found him yet. Besides, Minho wasn't about to believe anyone could possibly look quite as cute as Thomas, twin or not.

"There's no possible way he's later than us!" Thomas scoffed incredulously from Minho's side, his voice sounding casual despite the fact that the wolf could sense his nervousness as clear as day. Thomas's heart always did this weird, skip-beat thing when he was worried and Minho had long since memorized the pattern that indicated the teen was uneasy.

"Quit fretting, Tommy." Minho scolded lightly, waving his hand through the air as if to shoo away the younger male's concerns as he spoke. "I'm gonna grab us some ice cream. I know your dumbass hasn't eaten anything all morning." The werewolf suggested, ignoring the near irresistible urge to run into the forest, slaughter the first edible thing he saw, and drag it, still bleeding, back for his mate - FRIEND.

"What would I do without you?" Thomas huffed sharply, sarcasm practically dripping from his lips, but Minho merely grinned at the kid's irritability.

"Probably starve!" Minho quipped jovially, swatting his friend lightly in the back of the head with an open palm as he made his way toward the tiny, rickety ice cream stand, ignoring the light shove Thomas threw his way.

It was a rather hot day, the sun beating down on the park relentlessly with the unforgiving heat of midsummer, so the line for the cold treats was quite lengthy. Nevertheless, Minho diligently took his place at the end of the hoard of people and shoved his hands in his pockets, resigning himself to a long wait as the people ahead of him moved incredibly slow.

Minho kept the sound of Thomas's heartbeat in the back of his head every moment he was separated from the boy. The wolf had spent many a miserable night in the Scorch, trying desperately to drain the boy's pain and listening intently to that familiar rhythm when Thomas was shot, as if focusing on it would urge it to continue, so memorizing the distinct cadence of the boy's heart had really only been natural. It gave Minho a way to know his mate - Please, wolf, can't you be heterosexual for two minutes? - friend was safe even when he couldn't see or smell him.

Even as Minho finally came to be second in line and let his eyes wander over the swinging chalkboard menu hanging precariously above the cash register, he kept the sound in the back of his head.

"Can I get uhh...." An elderly man directly before Minho in line began but then trailed off and fell into silence for what had to be at least fifteen shucking minutes. Minho groaned internally and unintentionally externally as he tried to focus on selecting his own food rather than the irritating sloth like nature of the man standing between him and ordering. Minho would like to get back to Thomas sometime in the next century, please.

"Uhh..." The old man continued, before straightening up slightly and putting a thoughtful finger against his chin. The guy began humming softly to himself in thought and Minho thought he would very much like to die rather than sit here and endure this insanity for a moment longer.

However, just as the wolf thought he might snap and quite literally bite the guy's head off, the man finally ordered a cup of water. After all that, a cup of water. Who even comes to an ice cream stand to order a cup of water? Jesus shuck him.

"What size?" A dumb looking boy who couldn't have been older than thirteen working the cash register questioned and Minho would have loved to just punch him in his pimple smothered face as Old Fart picked up another rousing chorus of everyone's favorite song: "Uhhh..."

Finally, years later, Dust Bag made his way along and Minho stepped up to take his place at the front of the line, every ounce of patience drained from him and every nerve on end, leaving him taunt and ready to snap.

"What can I get you, sir?" Pepperoni Face asked in a high, whiney voice that let Minho, and everyone else with ears, know the kid was definitely going through puberty.

"I just want two hot fudge sundaes." Minho sighed, forcing himself to breathe in a huge, calm inhale of sweet air before he spoke.

"My apologies, sir," King of the Pimples droned in a monotone and he obviously pulled out his phone and began texting someone as if he couldn't be bothered in the least by the growing scowl Minho felt his features twisting into.

"Our ice cream machine is broke." Puberty's latest victim informed casually, eyes still on his device rather than his fuming customer.

"You're an ice cream joint." Minho stated blankly, using every ounce of willpower in his body to keep a snarl from his voice.

"Yep." The kid replied simply, the sound of Candy Crush beginning to play noisily from the sleek phone still holding all the cashiers attention.

"And your ice cream machine is..." Minho began slowly but trailed off, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Broken?" The teen finally inquired incredulously, letting his disbelief and anger be evident in his heated tone.

"Yep." The Walking Acne replied distractedly as the sound of a lost game met Minho's ears and the cashier cursed irritably before finally shutting off his phone and turning to gaze boredly at his customer.

"What the shuck do you serve then?" Minho spat angrily, earning naught but a raised eyebrow and snide snicker from the source of his irritation. The  boy really wished he'd walked away minutes ago, but Thomas was hungry and he wasn't about to leave his mate - Jesus shuck - his friend unfed.

"Calm down, man," The idiot scoffed and held his hands up in a mock, pacifying gesture. "I can make you a slushy." The kid offered with a dramatic roll of his pale green eyes, as if making Minho anything was a favor that the teen should be eternally grateful for. Minho wanted to eternally punch this guy in the mouth.

"Fine. I want two slushies then." Minho huffed exasperatedly, too exhausted to fight such stupidity any longer.

"What flavor?" The Living Pimple questioned blankly, pulling his phone back up to his face with a tired look.

"Strawberry and lemon." Minho replied carefully, silently praising himself for not growling at the kid.

"Now, did you want strawberry and lemon together or..?" The stupid annoyance inquired, leaning his elbows on the counter and not even bothering to look at the steadily amassing line of overheated park goers.

"What do you think numbnuts?" Minho huffed, unsure if he really intended for his words to be heard or not. "I want two drinks, so, it should be obvious." The wolf explained carefully, counting every minute he spent with his mate - God dammit. There really was no point in correcting his idiotic wolf anymore, so why bother? - his mate not in his sight.

"Well, we do offer a tropical lemon, strawberry twist-" The kid rambled off uninterestedly but shut up as Minho slammed his hands onto the counter.

"Separate!" The werewolf practically hissed, fingers flexing to refrain from balling into fists. "I want them seperate, okay?" The Keeper growled out in a curt huff before slowly pulling his hands back from the counter.

"Gotcha, dude... No need to get all huffy." The cashier protested exasperatedly. "What size?" The kid questioned blankly after a long moment of tense silence. Minho wanted to scream.

"Medium." The Runner answered immediately, leaning against the white countertop tiredly after such an experience.

Large Wolfy demanded forcefully, apparently under the impression that it's self-proclaimed mate would starve if Minho didn't feed him surplus amounts of food immediately.

"Large." Minho relented easily, considering this was a relatively small price to pay to alleviate the driving desire to hunt red meat in a public park he still felt.

"And, is that both of them large?" Sir Stupid asked idiotically as he lay his phone face up on the counter and pushed off to finally begin making the drinks.

"Yes," Minho groaned agonizingly. "For the love of all that his good and holy, yes. Both large." The boy practically cried but he sobered up as the source of his anger began preparing the treats and something on the abandon phone's screen caught the Keeper's attention.

Minho let his gaze drift subtly to the screen while numbnuts was distracted with actually doing his job. "Inexplicable Odd Goings On Plague Beacon Hills - No One is Surprised." The article left open read, officially signing the death certificate of Minho's hope for a peaceful life.

Two identical cups, each filled to the brim with a frothy, pastel liquid were slammed down in front of Minho before he had a chance to mull over the new piece of dismal information and he quickly produced some of the cash Wicked had armed them with before sending them out into the world.

After living his whole life under a teenage made system where no one had anything worth trying to barter or sell, the entire concept of money made little to no sense to Minho, but he wasn't about to complain - The scientists had given the remaining subjects surplus amounts of the confounding currency, as if they thought it was going to make up for all they had done to them.

Just as Minho wrapped a hand around each of the drinks, the chilly feel of the cool cup against his warm skin sending chills over him, something caught his eye. It was almost too quick for the wolf to catch sight of, such a momentary glance that he was practically positive that he had simply imagined it - The briefest hint of a black, ominous aura drifting by him saw only out of the corner of his eye, barely edging his gaze.

Minho would have been sure it was just his overactive, paranoid imagination if the chalkboard menu didn't come crashing down onto the ceramic counter below milliseconds after.

The board splintered and broke into a hundred different, tiny pieces as Minho leapt back from the accident, his dark eyes darting about the scene. Despite his greatest attempts, the boy was unable to catch sight of the mystery creature's dark matter and not knowing where the thing was was somehow so much worse than actually seeing it.

"Calm down, everyone. It was just an accident, no reason to freak out." Pimple Boy soothed the crowd of onlookers in that same, bored voice he'd maintained during he and Minho's whole interaction. The crowd of people didn't honestly seem half as bothered as they should in Minho's opinion as they soon edged back toward the stand after an unnaturally brief moment of hesitation.

"Can we still get some ice cream?" A tall man with scruffy hair falling into his gray eyes questioned after a moment, leaving Minho to watch on, mouth falling agape in shock as the people merely brushed the splintering board out of the way and continued on as if everything were peachy keen.

"No. The machine is broke." Minho barely heard your friendly neighborhood superhero, Pimple Boy, reply as something else caught the Keeper's attention and ripped his focus away from the unsettling events that had just transpired.

Thomas's heartbeat changed, sounding blaring alarms in Minho's head as the familiar rhythm sprang up into the quickened cadence of fear.

The slushies the Keeper had fought so hard to obtain dropped pathetically from his suddenly lax grip and splattered in ruins on the concrete pathway underfoot as Minho darted toward his mate, pushing disgruntled passerbyers out of the way as if they were no more than blades of grass. Both his wolf and human sides agreed on something for once and he sprinted the distance between Thomas and himself, he had to reach the boy immediately and decimate whatever had caused the sudden change.

Thomas's familiar scent flooded the wolf's nostrils moments later but the sweet tones offered no comfort as they were tainted with an acidic bite of fear, which only drove Minho to struggle harder to get to the boy.

"Stiles, where have you been!" The sound of an unfamiliar voice met Minho's straining ears as he finally cleared the last few paces of crowd infested parkland and Thomas came into view. However, the sight was not what the werewolf was expecting in the least as a man he'd never seen before in his life held his friend's wrist captive in his grip, large, strong fingers able to wrap entirely around the limb with ease from what Minho could see.

"And why do you smell weird?" The guy continued dubiously, apparently oblivious to Thomas's obvious bewilderment as the smaller teen stared blankly at the man, muttering out a startled "huh?" but apparently unable to do much else.

The man looked absolutely terrifying to say the least. His dark gray eyes were smoldering with intensity as he stared down Minho's captured companion and his thick, scowling eyebrows seemed more threatening than Gally's, if such a thing were possible. Complete with perfectly trimmed stubble and a jawline one could probably slice themselves on, the dude looked like something out of a magazine. Not to mention the fact that his biceps were bigger than Minho's head for shucks sake.

But did any of this stop Minho from stalking up to Mr. Muscles with a scowl to rival the devil himself, glowering at the hand that still gripped Thomas's wrist? Nope.

"Just who the shuck do you think you are?" Minho spat as he neared the pair, causing both sets of eyes to lock on him, one familiar, honey pair full of relief and the other brimming with distaste.

"His Alpha." Sir Creepo growled angrily and as he spoke his gray eyes narrowed and flashed a dark shade of unnerving, luminescent crimson that was anything but natural.

"Yeah?" Minho snarled defensively, not allowing the display to deter him as he stomped relentlessly closer until he was right up in the guy's face. "Well, I'm his Keeper." The wolf growled dangerously, feeling his own eyes flash momentarily against his will, leaving him grateful he'd gotten close enough only Blood Eyes could see as there was no controlling the reaction when some guy randomly decided to show up and lay hand on his mate.

The mystery man looked momentarily taken aback by the display, as if something about the blue glow of Minho's own orbs had unnerved him but he recovered almost instantly. A low growl began in the back of the dude's throat at the challenge and Minho snarled just as fiercely in response, eyes fixed intently on where the man's fingers still wrapped around Thomas's wrist.

"Hey, Derek, I didn't know if you wanted cherry or..." A new voice suddenly interrupted the stare off as Alpha Asshole immediately snapped his head toward the sound. Intrigued by the sudden, urgent reaction, Minho let his own gaze trail that of his foe's and nearly choked on his own spit at the sight.

There, a few paces from them stood Thomas... But, at the same time, not.

The newcomer had the same hazel eyes, wide and Bambi-ish as Thomas did, coupled with the pale mole speckled skin associated with Minho's best friend. The kid was the same height, had the same build, and even had the same sunkissed brown hair and pink, full lips as Thomas. His scent even resembled Thomas's, warm and bright, with an undernote of tang... But at the same time, it was all different.

Minho smirked to himself victoriously - He was right, twin or not, no one was as cute as his Thomas.

Bodybuilder Big Head looked incredulously at the kid standing a few feet from them, then back at the boy he still held captive in his grip.

Minho took the opportunity to begin trying to pry the dude's steely fingers from his companion's wrist as Thomas attempted to aid him by squirming about in a way that was actually entirely unhelpful in every way, considering it was distracting Minho far more than it was loosening the alpha's grip.

Finally, after a long moment of "Derek," as the Thomas look alike had dubbed him, looking from one twin to the other, then glancing down at Minho who was trying in vain to loosen the deathgrip keeping Thomas still, the guy released his hold on the brunette.

"Oh." The new boy stated softly, his gaze flicking from Derek, to Minho, to Thomas before a amused snort escaped his lips.

"Derek, meet my twin brother, Thomas."