𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬. - TW ¹

005

It was quite a chilly night. We were at Scott's game, the air crisp around us, I pulled my jacket tighter, hoping to draw in some warmth. I hope he does well. I was sitting with our mom, and she had her arms around me ."I hope he can do it," I whispered to her.

Mom smiled gently, her breath visible in the cold air. "He's been practicing a lot. He'll be great, you'll see." I nodded, but the knot of worry lingered in my stomach.

The whistle blew. The game wasn't going that bad, but i could see Scott barely playing.

And then Jackson, the star player on the same team as him, shoved Scott roughly, sending him tumbling to the ground. The crowd erupted into cheers for Jackson.

I glanced up to the other side of the bleachers, and my heart sank further. Lydia and Allison were standing side by side, grinning broadly as they held up a massive sign that read, "We Luv U Jackson!"

"Ugh, how pathetic,"I then turned back around, crossing my arms tightly.

I slid down the bleachers a little closer to Stiles, my voice barely above a whisper as I asked, "Why are they being unfair to him?" My eyes darted back to the field. "I don't know.."

I felt a chill run down my spine as the hushed conversation among the team members reached my ears, cutting through the noise of the game.

"Only to me," one voice said confidently, and I recognized it as Jackson's.

"But what if he's open?" another player countered, frustration edging into his tone.

"Who's the captain, you or me?" Jackson shot back.

"We will win," Jackson insisted, his jaw set. "But—"

"What did I say?" he interrupted the other boy, the arrogance bleeding into intimidation. "Don't pass to McCall."

"Dude, I just want to win," the other player replied, desperation creeping in. My eyes widened as the implications of that sank in.

I wasn't supposed to hear any of that at all from a far distance. My latent abilities to sense emotions and thoughts were fading, leaving me feeling increasingly powerless.

But they were back..? I had been caught up in my own world and I didn't even realize Scott had scored a point with. The crowd cheered, and I snapped back to reality, my focus now entirely on my brother's determined face.

I couldn't help but smile, feeling a mix of joy and shock watching him play. It was odd, though—seeing Scott so at ease on the field.

Stiles had jumped up and nearly elbowed me in the face. "Jeez, Stiles!" I exclaimed, rubbing my cheek where his elbow had grazed me.

"Oh, sorry!" he said with a sheepish grin, his excitement palpable. "Get up and cheer, man!" he urged.

I chuckled at his enthusiasm as I stood up, joining in the cheers. "Alright, alright, I'm up!" I shouted, clapping and yelling for Scott.

"Pass to McCall! Pass to McCall!" The coach shouted, his voice booming over the sounds of the crowd. The excitement was electric, but something felt off.

Scott, my brother, seemed distant—lost in a storm of raw energy and emotion.

While the other team's players huddled together, I could see it: the fear radiating from him.

"Oh god," I thought, dread tightening my chest. I forgot about the full moon. And now i know why he wasn't going to play the game.

The opposing team was passing the ball to Scott as if he was all too aware of the danger he posed. Stiles was biting his glove again, nerves fraying as the coach approached them.