Stay with Me (Stalia)

Chapter 32

Parrish stepped quietly into the room. He could feel the tension immediately, a few people glanced at him, but most remained still with their eyes locked on Stiles. Lydia had called Jordan as soon as Scott and the Sheriff had emerged. He had finished up what he was doing as quickly as possible and rushed over to the hospital.

Lydia walked over to him and gave him a small smile, he barely resisted the urge to pull her into his arms and hold her close, but he knew that this was neither the time nor the place and that Lydia would be resistant to such a public display of comfort. He could tell by the way she looked at him with her chin up and eyes dry that she was determined to stay strong. He knew her well enough to know that she was doing this for the benefit of everyone else in the room. She would stay strong so that the other's didn't have to. Looking around he saw Melissa, Argent, Deaton, Kira, and Kyle and Remy doing the same thing. They were all comforting others and trying to keep their own emotions in check.

Parrish brought his attention back to the small redhead standing in front of him.

"No change?" He whispered and she shook her head in response.

"I guess this is a no news is good news type situation. He hasn't improved yet, but he also hasn't gotten worse...I don't know what to make of it."

"He's trying to find his way out, he'll make it" Parrish said. He reached down and took her hand, needing to be connected to her in some way. She quickly gripped his back and looked at him intently for a few moments. He quirked his eyebrows in a question and she shrugged and turned her gaze to Stiles.

"I'm just happy you're here." She said softly.

*****

Stiles once again managed to calm himself down. He grabbed onto the stair railing and pulled himself onto his feet. He closed his eyes for a second, picturing the faces of his dad and all of his friends. Picturing the faces of all of the people he was trying to get back to. Suddenly, his mom's face appeared in his head. Stiles gasped and opened up his eyes.

"She's not my real mom, she is just my imagination, she's not real, if I stay here I will die, she's not real..." Stiles whispered the words like a mantra, hoping that saying them out loud would somehow lessen the sting of what he was about to do. "She's not real, I'm in a coma right now and I have to wake up, She's not my real mom..." Stiles slowly moved forward until he was in the doorway of the living room. He could hear the faint noise of the TV coming from the room. Stiles took a deep breath and took a step into the room.

*****

Isaac stood at the foot of Stiles' bed staring at his friend. He thought of all of the times early in their relationship when he would have loved to see Stiles so still and quiet. When he had first met Stiles, the boy's hyperactivity had drove Isaac insane. Not that he could blame Stiles for his feelings. Isaac would see Stiles jiggling his leg in class and think about the time his father had thrown a spoon at him for doing the same thing at the dinner table. Or he would see Stiles pacing outside talking frantically to Scott and think about the time when his father had locked him in the freezer because he had heard him pacing in his room.

Overall, Isaac had envied Stiles. He envied his carefree attitude and his extroversion. Stiles would blurt out whatever came to his mind, no matter what the situation. Isaac had been taught over the years to watch everything he said. Ever since his brother had died, Isaac was forced to think carefully about every word that he spoke to his father. Eventually that had become a habit that he had taken to school. His friends had accepted his quietness and moodiness for a little while, chalking it up to him grieving over his brother, but eventually they had all given up on him. His teachers all thought he was a loser student because he frequently missed homework and he never participated in class. What they didn't know was that his father would scream at him for an hour about his grades and homework and then lock him in the basement for another few hours. After he would send Isaac to his room to finish his homework. But Isaac, tired and hungry, couldn't ever concentrate and would often fall asleep at his desk.