Shadows // Stiles Stilinski x Male OC

20

The next day, Stiles woke up feeling unusually relaxed. He hadn't slept this well in ages. He was still in bed when he heard Amma call him from downstairs. Groggily, he got up, washed his face, and headed down to the kitchen.

"Stiles?" Amma called again.

"Coming," Stiles replied, as he entered the kitchen.

"Stiles!" Amma said, noticing the boy still looked sleepy. "Did you come home late from the dance last night?"

"Um...," Stiles started, then tried to remember. "Can you get this turkey out of the refrigerator?" Amma asked, organizing the groceries.

"Yeah," Stiles said, pulling out the turkey. Then he answered her previous question, "I don't, uh-- I don't remember. I must have been pretty drun--" He stopped himself and corrected, "Tired, I mean. Pretty tired. But I slept really well for the first time in a long time."

"Oh, that's good," Amma said, smiling. "Is Alex coming over for Christmas? We've got enough food."

"Alex?" Stiles asked, confused.

"Alex Duchannes," Amma replied, giving him a funny look.

"Alex Duchannes? Why would I invite Alex Duchannes over for dinner?" Stiles laughed. "I barely know him. He doesn't speak to anybody at school."

"Do you know him?" Stiles continued, his voice full of curiosity.

Amma looked at Stiles, confused. "No, I don't know him," she said. But inside, she was hurting. It showed on her face—she knew what had happened, but there was nothing she could do.

"Emily's mom says he was in a mental institution. I don't know whether I trust what Emily's mom says, but he's kind of a weird guy," Stiles said, not really paying attention to the conversation as he helped Amma with the groceries.

"Except for that damn Civil War thing and meals..." he trailed off. "I'm staying in my bed the entire winter break," he laughed, kissing Amma on the cheek before heading back to his room to brush his teeth.

As Stiles walked away, Amma watched him with a pained expression, the weight of her knowledge pressing down on her. She sighed softly and continued putting away the groceries, hoping somehow everything would turn out alright.

***************

The next morning, Stiles went to church with Amma. They sat together, listening to the pastor's sermon. For Amma, the words resonated deeply, touching on themes she could relate to and understand. She nodded occasionally, her face reflecting the gravity of the message.

For Stiles, however, the sermon was just background noise. He fidgeted in his seat, his mind wandering back to his warm bed and the comfort of home. He glanced around the church, noting the stained glass windows and the solemn faces of the congregation, but none of it really registered. All he wanted was to get through the service and go back home.

The sermon that day was powerful. The pastor began, "I don't want to preach today. Instead, I just want to talk to you about a word we don't hear much anymore: sacrifice."

Stiles shifted in his seat, trying to focus as the pastor continued, "It's not what I'd call a modern word. People hear the word 'sacrifice' and they become afraid... that something will be taken away from them, or they'll have to give up something they can't live without. 'Sacrifice,' to them, means 'loss'... in a world telling us we can have it all."

Amma listened intently, her expression thoughtful. Stiles, meanwhile, tried to suppress a yawn, wishing he were anywhere but here.

"But I believe true sacrifice is a victory," the pastor went on, "because it requires our free will... to give up something or someone you love... for something or someone you love more than yourself."

Stiles's attention was momentarily caught. He glanced at Amma, who seemed deeply moved by the words.

"I won't lie to you. It's a gamble. Sacrifice won't take away the pain of loss. But it wins the battle against bitterness. The bitterness that dims the light on all that is of true value in our lives."

On the other side of the city, Alex sat in front of the fireplace, the warm glow of the flames casting flickering shadows on the walls. His uncle played a melancholic tune on the piano, filling the room with a haunting melody. But Alex's mind was far from the music; it was consumed with thoughts of Stiles.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about the boy. The memories of their time together played on a loop in his mind—Stiles's laughter, his touch, the way he made everything seem brighter. Alex sighed, feeling a deep ache in his chest. He knew he had made the right choice to protect Stiles, but that didn't make the loneliness any easier to bear.

The piano music seemed to echo his feelings, each note resonating with the sorrow and longing he felt. Alex stared into the fire, wishing more than anything that he could be with Stiles, to hold him and reassure him that everything would be alright.

But he knew he couldn't. Not now. Not ever.