Vagabond

Chapter 5||Bullet

*Stiles'/Mitch POV*

"Be thankful I didn't shoot it at your head." I said as I chuckled, while ignoring the look that my Dad gave me, either worried or in horror that I shot my once bestfriend.

Scott was on the floor, covering his bleeding leg- a bullet buried into it. Lydia was there to help him, but it was to no avail because he was in absolute pain. I squated to meet him in the eye, and give him a warning he deserves.

"You see Scott, you can't trust anyone." I murmured and gave him a smile, before it contorted to my usual blank expression. "And not everyone is the same just because you think they are your old friend. That is your mistake. Even since then." I said, venom lacing my words. Oh how I was satisfied when he flinched. I stood up and went for the door, before I heard someone yell.

"Even though, why do you need to do that? He was once your friend after all?!" Lydia screeched, hissing when she looked at Scott's injury again. I turned around and gave her an amused look. That was certainly funny.

"Well, even though you are a supernatural being, guns can still hurt and kill you. I just needed to teach the alpha some lesson." I huffed, and ran a hand through my hair, before sparing another look at Scott.

Somehow I'm disgusted at my old friend, but I don't feel any guilt that I shot him.

He deserves it. I thought.

I made my way out of the house and immediately went for my car, leaving a dumbfounded Scott, Lydia and Dad at my once home.

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*Scott's POV*

"Why it still hurts? The pain was supposed to be bearable at this time?" I groaned as I tried to sit up properly, looking to the Sheriff then Lydia. Wolves heal quickly if the bullet is shot not near to any fatal organs like heart, lungs or head. This bullet is shot in my leg, why it still hurt like hell? Lydia replied with a hum and Sheriff just shrugged.

"I don't know Scott. Maybe we need to get you to Deaton, he's the one who knew things well." Lydia suggested. Yeah maybe he can help me.

"Yeah, thats sounds a great idea for now." Sheriff said, but from his tone- I can see that he hardly didn't care. He still help Lydia aid me though.

"Did Stiles told you anything except the ones we heard, Sheriff?" I asked him, hoping he would give us some answers but,

"No, I didn't have the chance to ask more because of your interruption." Sheriff sighed-exasperated but then as unexpected as it could be,

"Plus, why did you BROKE IN in my house?! I didn't gave you permission." Sheriff scolded, and if expressions can kill, I'll be dead right now.

I felt embarrassed on what we did but at least that gave us some answers. So no, I didn't regret it. That doesn't stop me from finding the ground interesting though. Lydia isn't any better, she also flinched slightly-barely noticeable, and looked anywhere other than the people in the room while pressing a cloth on my leg.

"We want to visit you so we went here. Although the door is locked, Scott picked it just to check if you are okay." Lydia defended, still pressing the cloth, but her lips are pressed into a thin line. The sheriff stared at the once teenagers but still idiot and reckless adults, before giving a long suffering sigh. He rubbed his temples, and close his eyes, before he spoke,

"I'm okay... could you just, don't do that again. Please. Now that I'm a senior I needed some space. Let's go to the Deaton's clinic and get that wound checked." The sheriff pleaded, before helping me with the aid of Lydia, stand me up.

And so, Lydia and the Sheriff helped me to get on the Clinic. We used Lydia's car, with Lydia driving, the Sheriff and I got on the backseat. And it was silent along the way, but you sure can feel the awkwardness that arises everytime we meet.