The Little Ones

five: the plan

There stood Stiles Stilinski, an 18 year old boy who held hopes of becoming a Sheriff and saving Beacon Hills, just like his father. There stood Lydia Martin. Aspiring surgeon with perfect looks and perfect grades. Everything was set in stone. So here's the plan.

Graduate from high school. Stiles would go to Beacon Sheriff Academy and train to be the best sheriff and follow in his father's footsteps. Lydia would go to the local med school and train with Mrs. McCall whenever she had time. They would finish college and go to Europe for one year for their break. 

Tour the beautiful Parisian streets, ear croissants, and butcher French words. But they would be happy-very happy. That was the plan. Until Lydia Martin had sent the papers that had messed the plan up.

Years of planning and two words to destroy it all.

Frontotemporal Dementia.

Possessing Stiles like a plague. He hadn't even felt it coming, but his mother had had it, so he should've known, right? But he hadn't. He had spent too much time enjoying life and stressing over teenage boy issues. He was the least bit worried about dying so soon.

So that was why he wasn't there for his own birthday celebration. He had been experiencing very severe headaches for so long that Sheriff decided to get him some scans done.

It was so fast. With no warming. One minute Melissa McCall was happily smiling wishing the boy a happy birthday and smiling and the next she was crying. She had been best friends with his mother and saw how it had affected. How she slowly forgot everything and everyone and how she lost her life so suddenly. She saw it all happen again.

Now it's been almost two weeks since the revelation of Stiles' condition. Lydia was barely holding together. Making it to her classes, making sure Stiles made it to his classes. When he couldn't she would collect his homework and bring it to his home.

Yesterday had been then hardest on Lydia.

Usually Stiles could make it onto the rooftop. He would struggle, but he would make it. He would sit there and Lydia would explain whatever lessons he had missed that day and he would pretend to understand. But not yesterday.

When Lydia had come home, she had seen a very tired Stiles. He had pretended to be okay, but when he moved over to the rooftop, he couldn't make it. His safe haven was not in reach anymore. He had struggled as he mad it back to his bed. And this afternoon when Lydia got home, he had changed completely.

"Lyds," he cooed out almost begging. 

"I'm here Sti."

They sat in silence as she fed him some soup, with the TV playing in the background.

"So how's school without me?" he asked. "It's really boring. No one seems to take me seriously without you there. They think I'm going into depression, but I'm not. I'm really not." "But Lyds, you're always here. Your not your usual party girl. How am I supposed to believe that you aren't depressed?"

"Oh come on. Last week I went on a date with Aiden. That was at a party."

"Oh."

Stiles had realized the sound of sadness in his voice. Sure it was selfish of him to want Lydia, especially as he was dying, but something about him, just wouldn't let him move on. He was struggling to accept what Lydia had said. He loved her. 

But that was something she would never know. 

A/N: I KNOW.. I'M CRUEL.. frontotemporal dementia was something I knew I wanted to incorporate into the story since I began it. I have been very into researching it and I wanted to have it be a main part of this story. Let me know if you thought that this was the big twist to Stiles' life. 

ALSO

I know I've been doing some shorter chapters, but it's because I need them to help lead up to the BIG chapter coming up. I hope you enjoyed. Please leave any comments below and make sure to vote. Thank you :)