Surgery

crash

The very last thing Stiles remembered before all he saw was blackness, was a tree, and his blue jeep approaching at a very unsettling pace.
He didn't know what happened after, and no one here wanted to tell him either.
Apparently the boy's best Scott was with him in the car that night, the two had downed a couple drinks at a party and then hit the road. Stiles survived, but at a heavy cost. His best friend died that night and he still has no memory of it in the slightest bit.
I looked at him that night and saw a sort of fragile heart inside of him somehow, and I just felt this impenetrable need to watch over him and keep him safe ever since. I can't explain it, whether I'm simply attracted to him or what, but this boy makes me want to hold him and keep him safe and that is something I have never felt towards anyone before.
He is sitting with his father, the sherif, and it doesn't look pretty from here.
I know that I'm an ER doctor and that means that I need to be attentive to my other oncoming patients, but I needed to see how this one played out.
Stiles and I had talked a couple times, and I must say that he's quite the hopeless romantic. It's pretty adorable, actually.
The first words that came out of his mouth to me were, "Can you check my charts again, I think I'm having a lack of vitamin you."
Of course I was surprised to hear that he wouldn't be more concerned with the fact that he was wearing a flimsy hospital outfit and that he had been in a coma for two weeks.
Stiles gets up and goes over to the vending machine while his father walks the other way with his head down. Stiles approaches the machine with balled fists and proceeds to send a heavy blow into it. I flinch as he looks down at his bloody fist and collapses to the ground in a ball of sorrow.
I rush over as fast as I can and sit down next to him on the cold floor.
"I need to get that looked at for you." I say, grabbing his fist gently and trying to get him to stand up and walk with me. He hesitates and then pulls away, accidentally punching my side.
"Oh shit, I'm sorry." He gets up and puts a hand on my side trying to see if there's any damage done to my ribcage.
I shake my head. "It's fine Mr. Stilinski. I do need you to come with me so we can get your hand bandaged up, however."
He nods pitifully and wipes the tears from his eyes as we walk to the room.
"Dr. Hale?" He asks, looking up at me with his bloodshot eyes.
"Yes?"
"Call me Stiles. Please."

I nod and smile at him. "Stiles."