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Stiles has been missing for three years and everyone is starting to loose hope. All except Scott.
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Thomas and his friends are living a great life in the safe haven only for things to go wrong.
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When Scott finds crucial information about Stil...
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"Tommy." a voice taunted.
"No."
"Tommy!" It called once again.
"No!"
Thomas felt like he was half asleep. Swatting away a mother's hand as he is forced to wake up.
"Don't worry Tommy, I am only here to help."
"No!"
"Do you question my loyalty?"
"You're not real."
"Really, I — uh feel pretty real."
Thomas turned his head away. He couldn't bare to look look at Newt, all he could feel was the compressing of his chest. The weight of an anvil, making it impossible to breath. The guilt of seeing his face was suffocating.
"Even if you are real, this isn't you."
"Well, it is now."
"I can't do this anymore." Thomas finally let out. "I'm in so much pain, why can't I just let it all go? I just want it to be over." Thomas broke down, unable to hide his looked away feelings. He had put on a strong face for so long he had forgotten how it felt to actually express his pain.
"Then do it."
"What?" Thomas asked still shaking in agony.
"Give up. I mean, that's what you've always done. You gave up on Alby, Chuck, Winston and most importantly me."
"No, no. You're wrong."
"Am I?"
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"Stiles?" Scott called out but before he could call again he heard screaming and was then tackled to the floor.
"AHHHHHH!" Screamed out a voice. "WHERE IN SHUCKING HELL IS THOMAS! YOU STUPID PIECE OF KLUNK!"
"Thomas?"
"AND HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO KICK DOWN THE DOOR! I — I thought I had tried everything." He sighed almost in defeat.
"Guess you didn't try a banshee." Isaac said under his breath.
"Wait, who are you?" Scott asked, still being held down on the floor by an Asian boy with dark fluffy hair covered in dirt and sweat and kinda smelled of vomit.
"Who am I? You don't know? You-you weren't out there studying me?"
The pack turned to look at each other in confusion.
