Reborn as Stiles Stilinski | Teen Wolf

4.

My entire life had irreversibly changed again after that graduation. Not only had I achieved academic excellence the following year in high school, but I also gained many friends. Most of whom I talk to on a regular basis. Whether that be because we share a class together, sit at the same lunch table, or talk because we have common interests and enjoy spending time together. 

Even Scott Mccall. The main protagonist of Teen Wolf and the character who the majority of the shitshow happens around. After transmigrating into the original kid Stiles' body, I hadn't realized until after entering high school, how detrimental my new shift in personality had been for Scott and I's relationship. From being around each other 24/7 to abruptly ending all contact with one another had really hurt Scott.

And it's not as if I didn't feel any of that pain either. It's just, I'd been so focused on the loss of my mother and the feelings surrounding that circumstance, that I never truly looked beyond it. Thankfully, Scott wasn't resentful at all when I spoke to him again for the first time in 5 years. And so much has changed with not only me but him as well.

He'd gone from the shy loner kid who was seemingly so afraid of everything I'd dragged him into, to becoming a young, fit, aspiring Lacrosse player who wasn't horrified of the world anymore. He was still shy in regards to speaking to anyone of the opposite gender though. Not that I'd believed that'd change as well, because he was still someone I knew in fiction, and most of the traits he had at the beginning of the show are still present, even a full year and some change before the series even started.

His haircut was shaggy, loose curls, cut in a bowl-like style. The jawline that I knew would fill out still wasn't symmetrical even in its early stages, large brown eyes, an absolutely radiant and blinding smile, with an innocent and kind personality, exactly as I remembered him from the life previous to this one.

Its. . .still hard to grasp. The knowledge of how so many people will turn out, from Lydia to Jackson to Erica. All people I've known my entire life. Yet half of me sees them as characters, just non-real versions of people acting as them. Fictitious people that have been breathed into life by the vast imagination humankind harbors. And I had the opportunity to change some of it.

To change Lydia's personality from the fake bitch she'd become to embracing herself freely, without caring about how others viewed her. I could've helped Jackson out, made him feel less alone, and truly became a companion to him. Shit, I could've tried to help Erica out as well, I don't think it'd be too hard to become friends with someone when I've amassed so many of them thus far.

Yet, I didn't.

Not just out of fear of rendering all my future knowledge void.

Not because I was incapable of looking past memories about them that hadn't come to fruition yet. 

Not because I didn't believe in their ability to change earlier on than they would've.

No.

I didn't help them, because if I don't truly have a lock on the possible events this reality holds, then I'm fucked. Completely, and utterly, fucked.

Because I'm not some supernatural creature with the ability to regenerate flesh and bone. I'm not some incredibly smart genius who can create super-soldier serums and be on par, if not superior to many of the unbelievable races this world has. From kitsunes to werewolves to druids to fucking any mythological creature known to man. Probably. I mean, some of them have to be fake right?

Anyway, I know my limits. I know when I can't - won't - be able to help protect myself and everyone I've grown to care for. Unless I know what's going to happen.

Of course, there's always the possibility my entire reality is an AU version of Teen Wolf, and everything I've tried to do to preserve my knowledge becomes useless and I'm most likely going to die miserably by being ripped in half by Monster Peter Hale in the first season.