Fairytales Can Come True

Stiles' Past

Singing had always been something natural to Stiles, he'd grown up with it.

His mother loved music and as soon as Stiles could walk and talk, he was being taught how to make noise; how to sing and play instruments.
In the beginning he had been confused, he remembered the first time his mom had given him a tambourine and he had repeatedly smashed it against the carpet, giggling at the jingling sound. As he played with his new toy his mother had laughed delighted, his fathers hand on her shoulder, smiling down at his son. Jealous
"Looks like he takes after you more than we thought" his dad had joked, chuckling when Claudia had half heartedly and hit him in the harm in retribution.

Over the years Stiles' love for music grew and he soon picked up piano and guitar as well as keeping in key with his singing.

When his mother had gotten ill, and had to be permanently situated in the hospital Stiles had brought one of the three or so keyboards they had at home to the hospital to play to her. He'd sometimes take his guitar (the one she had gotten him when he was six) and they and some of the nurses would have a 'sing song' as his mom would day.

On his mothers last day he remembered playing her the song he had written, composed and learnt for her for the first time;"If I die young, bury me in satin, lay down on a bed of roses..."

It was the last thing he ever sang to his mother.

At her funeral it was what he had played in her honour and if he had played a few notes out of key because of the tears clouding his vision, well, no one judged him. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QQoFLrZ5C3M)

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"You okay kid?" his dad said from the door, leaning against the frame.

He hadn't realised he'd been playing until his dad snapped him back to reality. The tears streaming down his face where chocking him making his voice shake as he sang the last line, "Bury me in satin lay me down..."

He faded out with a sob that shook his father to the core of his heart. It hurt, the memory of his wife and how Stiles reflected so much of his mother in those whiskey eyes, but to see his son in such pain in the present was like a stab in the chest, a pang of such remorse and regret. Regret that he wasn't even there at Claudia's last breath to say how much he loved her, to comfort his only son at his mothers passing.

Stiles felt a pair of strong arms embrace him as his father took seat at the side of him on the piano bench.

They sobbed onto one another's shirts for a few hours, the volumes of there sorrow shown in the way they clung to one another.

It was always hard on Claudia's birthday.