𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

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-ˋˏ ༻ ━━·⋆₊˚🔪 ⚣❁ཻུ۪۪🩸♡*:·⋆·━━ ༺ˎˊ-

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-ˋˏ ༻ ━━·⋆₊˚🔪 ⚣❁ཻུ۪۪🩸♡*:·⋆·━━ ༺ˎˊ-

Today was another day of loneliness for Stiles. He understands that everyone has lives, but it felt like they always kept him in the dark most of the time. Sometimes, he catches them hanging out together, yet they don't tell him.

It had started when he turned 16, a year after his mother's death. Scott became distant after one night. He tried to ask what was wrong a few times, but the male always changed the subject and moved the goalpost in a way that Stiles hated.

He's now 20, and yet they still don't include him. It's been four years, and yet he doesn't even have his dad. They might live in the same house, but his dad doesn't even look his way. He knew his father worked a lot, so maybe that was the reason, but even so, he had to get away.

That's where Stiles was right now, waiting for his laptop to turn on before today, when he'd leave this town. 

Going onto Google, he instantly types the first place that comes to mind.

'Haddonfield, Illinois'

He rests his hand on his chin as the other hand scrolls through the search. After a few seconds of scrolling, he comes across a house that is up for sale. He clicks on the website, and all the information pops up.

The house's address was 707 Meridian Avenue. 

It looked well-built and of decent size. Getting to the end of the site, he saw a number at the bottom, and a small grin formed on his face as he reached for his phone.

༉‧₊˚🩸 🔪♡⚣𑁍.ೃ࿔*🕯

Stiles was giddy as he packed his clothes in duffel bags. He had gotten the house, which came as a shock for him. When he was on the call, the seller seemed sort of relieved that someone had bought the house. Call him crazy, but Stiles swore the guy muttered something about it being the death of him. 

He didn't put much thought into it, though. He was finally leaving, so that's what matters.

As he started to pack his last bag, he heard the front door open and close. He didn't budge as he heard heavy footsteps walk by his room and into another, the sound of another door closing. 

Sighing to himself, Stiles zipped up his bag and pulled out his phone to check the time. 

2:20 p.m

With one more sigh, he grabs his keys before leaving his room and going to his jeep. Maybe he should get a drink first and say bye to a few people who actually care about him.

Walking into the jungle, Stiles beelined it to the bar. The person behind it looked up and beamed as Stiles sat down on a stool.

The DragQueen smiles at him, her blonde curly hair resting over her shoulders. Placing a drink in front of Stiles, the Dragqueen watches as Stiles chugs it. "Hey, Red, bad day?" She asks. 

Red is a nickname he took up after his first day in the Jungle. It is something about nicknames giving you personality and all that. 

"Yeah, found a place to move to," Stiles sighs.

The DragQueen gasps, her hand resting on her chest. "You're leaving little ol me here, how cruel," She jokes.

"Trust me, honey. If I could bring you, I would. But you're the show here; you're the number one Drag Queen," Stiles grins at her. She smiles back and snaps her finger.

"You get it, darling," she says, her hand coming down and resting on the top of Stiles's hand. "Hey, you'll be missed here, everyone loves you in this building," 

"I know, but I need a change, you know," Stiles sighs, grabbing her hands. 

"And you go for it, just don't forget about me," She grins with a quick wink. 

"Never," Stiles smiles.

༉‧₊˚🩸 🔪♡⚣𑁍.ೃ࿔*🕯

Walking into his house, he turns the corner and sees his dad sitting on the couch. A glass of liquor in his hand.

Noah looks up and looks at his son for the first time in a year. "You're leaving?" He asks, hurt evident in his voice.

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Why do you suddenly care?" He starts to make his way up the stairs, hearing the chair squeak as Noah follows him. 

"Because I'm your father, I'm supposed to care," Noah chases after him.

"Yeah, that's bullshit," Stiles scoffs as he walks into his room.

"What did you say?" Noah crosses his arms as he stops in the doorway.

Stiles whips around, sudden anger washing over him. "I said that's bullshit! For years you ignored me, didn't even bother to look at me. So when I decide to move out, you suddenly want to care?!" Stiles yells.

Noah instantly got defensive. "Because I don't want you leaving like your mother did; you saw what it did to her! It got her killed!" He yells, his mouth moving faster than he can think.

Stiles flinches back as if he has gotten slapped, his eyes glazing over. "You don't have the right to talk about my mother like that! She left because of you! Because you were a drunk, a worthless piece of shit!"

It's Noah's turn to flinch. "You don't mean that," Noah shakes his head.

Stiles laughs; it isn't a happy or joking laugh. It's dark and cold, almost sinister in a way. "Oh I fucking mean it, she left after you started drinking! You drove her away; you broke your wedding vows the day you cheated on her! And I fucking hate you for that! But when she died, you pretended to care! Acted like you were a sort of saint and the best husband in the goddamn world! You never even asked me once how I felt or if I was okay. Didn't even look at me, fuck you, Noah!" Stiles yells as he grabs his Duffel bags, storming out the room and then out the house.

Leaving Noah there to contemplate what he did.

_________________

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𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕂𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 • Stiles S.Where stories live. Discover now