Devil of Wolves (Sterek)

Chapter 17 (I Bet On Losing Dogs)

There's things I want to say to you
But I'll just let you live
Like if you hold me without hurting me
You'll be the first who ever did

______

Stiles Stilinski knew awkward.

Hell, he was awkward. He used to parade around high school wearing it as a badge of honor and with his chin held high, letting it roll off him in waves like he couldn't be touched. Of course, that was a big fat excuse to pretend he wasn't hurt by every snide remark or stare he got while walking through those halls. Alone, usually.

It also didn't help that his friends abandoned him, dropping him and everything their former relationships stood for like he was a piece of hot coal or a lost puppy meant to wander the streets.

He was yesterday's news—a monster in their eyes, and that was all he's ever been since.

Sitting alone at lunch was awkward while his food stared back up at his sunken gray face and wearied eyes. It was awkward when meals no longer appealed to him and simple tasks seemed nearly impossible.

It was awkward, downright unbearable, when his father barely said two words to him all day and left for bed early each night.

It was awkward when his dad, his only family left, picked up extra shifts to avoid his own son, saying with a tired expression, "It's only for a little while, kiddo. I just need time."

Yeah, that was a lie.

Which was funny because, didn't they all need time?

Stiles had survived the rest of senior year alone, always mindful of the stares and whispers about his wilting appearance and silence. How strange it must have been to see him moping around without his best friend who's been attached to his hip for years and everyone was left to wonder what went wrong.

Of course, most people attributed this change to the death of their former student Allison Argent. They stared at him—through him like a ghost—all without knowing that he was the reason for her death.

It had been his fault. He was weak. Stiles was a burden, the most awkward thing to exist to them, he was a painful reminder, and leaving only felt right.

It's not surprising that he hasn't talked to some of the people he used to call his 'friends' since. Not on purpose at least. Nor has he actually spoken to his father and gotten an immediate response back. He remembers his dad's voice and replays the voicemail left months ago - while he'd been sitting on a bench near the coast - just to sleep easier at night.

It was awkward, fucking depressing, how fast his dad gave up trying to mend what was broken.

It hurt more than anything, more than any words or scars left on his battered body that he covered from everyone. It was hard to hide this type of hurt, no matter how easy it seemed.

Stiles has been trying to get over that pain and betrayal for so long now, the days are a blur. It sounded easy just to brush off and move on from, but then he'd be trying to erase years of his past life, even the times before monsters became real.

The ones spent with his mother, he holds onto as tightly as possible. Even though her smiles were nothing but distant afterthoughts now.

Her voice is lost to the wind and something he cannot recall no matter how much he yearns to hear it. Her laughter is a silent image in his head.

Claudia Stilinski had been a bright, unmovable force in this world, so full of kindness and compassion. She dealt with a goofy child who couldn't sit still for longer than a minute and was constantly getting in trouble for his curiosity and persistence. But she loved him like any mother would.