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𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 the life altering occurrence he had come to refer as the 'The Bite', and the simultaneous tragedy that followed said bite in the form of the murderous alpha that turned his best friend into a werewolf hunting Scott down to in order order initiate him into the little club of killer supernatural creatures, Stiles forgot that he had an advasery of his own who also most likely harbored homicidal tendencies towards him.
"I'm telling you, Scott," Stiles said as much to his best friend. "It's because of those highlighters I took from him in sixth grade."
Ezra Choi, in all his doom and gloomy glory and all black colour scheme that made him look like he had the entire discography of My Chemical Romance running in his veins instead of blood, was sitting just a few tables down from them in the cafeteria, eating his lunch in that nonchalant way he seemed to do everything while his sister talked his ear off about something he could care less about.
Scott turned to face the object of their current conversation, then he turned back to look at Stiles like he was going crazy. "He's not even looking at us," he said.
Stiles pointed at him. "That's what he wants you to think! I've noticed him glancing this way about five times in the last ten minutes when he thought I wasn't looking, and there wasn't a single positive thought behind those evil eyes of his."
Scott sighed tiredly, like he always did when Stiles brought up this topic. "Maybe he was looking at someone else in this general direction," he tried reasoning, likely forgetting that Stiles tended to go beyond all reason when he knew he was right.
Stiles scoffed. "Yeah, and maybe I'm a freaking vampire," he replied. "Scott, do you not remember that time last semester when he treated Jackson in not so many words to leave him alone unless he wanted to end up at the bottom of the lake? Jackson listened to him! Only truly evil people can make that asshole afraid of them."
"Stiles, come on-"
Stiles narrowed his eyes at Ezra, watching him as wiped off the bit of sour cream his sister had spotted on the tip of his nose. "Maybe he's the vampire," he mumbled. "Do you think vampires exist?"
Scott rolled his eyes. "I don’t know, man. Maybe. A few weeks ago, neither one of us believed in werewolves."
Stiles nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right. Do you think he's a vampire?"
"Seriously, Stiles? We have bigger things to worry about! Like the Hunters and murderous alphas out to get us and God knows what else," Scott complained, his voice filled with the despair he was feeling.
"Hey, you're the one who's got everyone coming for him. I'm perfectly content with leaving your furry little ass in the dust if it came down to it," Stiles reminded him.
