fade #2 (Stiles Stilinski)

Chapter 2

I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF. Only Melanie and her plot lines.

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I was currently lounging about my house, peacefully by myself. In these situations, Stiles would usually be present. But, this time. I honestly wanted to be alone for a bit.

Just a few hours ago, Lydia had vanished. Causing me to worry deeply about the strawberry blonde. Not only had she fled without word, she had also left naked. No clothing whatsoever, which is not very good for anyone. Especially a fairly young teenage girl. In the freezing cold.

I hoped and prayed Lydia would be at least somewhat okay. I, of course, didn't want anything to happen to her, she's one of my closest friends. And, if I were to loose really anyone that I had a close relationship to, meaning Stiles, Scott, my mother, Lydia, Allison, and maybe, just maybe Jackson. . .as well as Derek, I'm not quite sure what I would do with myself.

But, aside from the Lydia chaos, I was doing something I never really thought I would do. It didn't even occur to me what I was doing nor why I was doing it. The only thing that I was aware of was that I was taking an eerie adventure into my fathers vacant room.

My mother and I had established pretty clearly as to how to steer clear from that room, for far too many bad memories came along with it. I could barley even look at the door without grimacing pathetically. But, it's been awhile since his death. And, the old saying now or never rang repeatedly throughout my head.

You may be wondering, when your father was alive, why did he have his own separate room? Apart from my mother and I? Well, you see, it was more of an office. For, he did his just all around business in that room.

I recall my dad practically flooding with work, and not only him, but my mother as well urged the idea of him having somewhere quiet to think. Being that there was a toddler in the house that would scream meaningless words and phases while he was attempting to get everything completed. I didn't blame him, I presume I would have done something similar in his situation.

I actually vaguely remember a moment from my childhood. I somehow wandered into his business room, and remember seeing stacks upon stacks of papers. It was a bland room really, but it was always tons of fun to wander in there, especially while he wasn't looking. I felt adventurous, rebellious even.

I placed my hand on the brass door knob, an instant flow of memories collapsing back into my hazy mind. I cringed, removing my hand and taking a cautious step back.

Was I really about to go in there?

The answer must have been yes, for I took another step forward and trudged triumphantly into the room.

It looked just as he had left it, a few pictures still lazily hung on the wall and the same charcoal office chair lay right up against a brown desk. It was a fairly vacant room, nothing too interesting. But it was still enough for the vast memories.

I found myself walking over towards the desk. A mirror hung in front as well as an old computer and a few stray pens, in which had gone untouched. It was crazy of how much of the same it was. Really, nothing had changed. It was as if he had just passed, everything was left where he had placed them.

It was a bit odd as I proceed to think about it. For, I would have thought that my mother would have hastily thrown everything out or placed his belongings into the attic. Not just leave them astray.