The house was unnervingly quiet, the only sound that could be heard besides Stiles' shallow breathing was the ticking of the clock. Drops of scarlet red liquid fell into the porcelain sink as the cold metal blade sliced through his already scarred skin. Eight fresh and angry jagged lines cover the old ones, one for every member of the pack.
He rinses the blade and tucks it away in its rightful place before washing away the blood from his wrist, barely wincing at the pressure of the water on the fresh wounds. Shutting off the water, he grabs a towel to press down on the cuts them stop the bleeding before he balls it up to bury at the bottom of the trash can. He looks at his reflection with dull, whiskey brown eyes; his jaw is decorated with a bruise and there's a cut on his forehead and lip from when Trent had pushed him down because he was standing 'in the way'. His skin is paler than usual with a thin sheen of sweat glistening on it.
Ruffling his hair, he steps out of the bathroom to check on the spaghetti he had been preparing for his father. A frown graces his pink lips as he recalls the last time he had a proper conversation with his dad.
He last spoke to his father three days ago and that was to ask him if he could pick up eggs on the way home; which he didn't do by the way. The man can't even look him in the eye anymore and Stiles can't blame him, he did find out his son has been lying to him and had been running around with werewolves in the dead of night and look how that ended up. He ruined his relationship with his dad for a bunch of wolves who ended up not giving a rat's ass about him anymore.
His stomach lurches when the smell of the noodles hit him and he quickly turns off the stove before running to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach. He flushes the toilet and puts the seat down so he could rest his head on the cool porcelain. He jumps slightly when a hand runs down his back before he smiles for the first time today.
He lifts his head and turns to smile at his guest. "Hey, Der."
Derek sighs before helping Stiles to his feet and over to the sink where he proceeds to brush his teeth and wash his face for him.
"I'm sorry." The teen apologizes when he sees the look on the wolf's face.
Derek's face softens before he reaches out to brush his fingers over Stiles' bruises and cuts. His nostrils flare as he lifts his mate's wrist to press kisses to the new additions. "Please don't apologize, love. I should be apologizing for not being able to do much."
"Believe it or not, you're the only one who's keeping me from ending it all." Stiles admits and a whimper slips past Derek's lips.
"Please don't say that." He pulls the teen into a hug and kisses his forehead. "I'm going to let you eat some crackers and fruits and drink some ginger ale, do you think you can keep it down?"
He's not feeling up for food but he doesn't want to upset Derek. "I think so, lead the way Sourwolf." He gives his boyfriend a strained smile.
Derek laces their fingers together as they head back to the kitchen and Stiles takes a seat at the table while the older male rummages through the fridge. "So, who am I beating up tomorrow?"
The pale teen splutters. "Wh-What?"
"Someone hurt my mate and I want to know who it is." Derek's face was stormy as he set out some crackers on a plate.
Stiles' stomach does a little flip and this time it's not from nausea. "Kiss me."
Derek gives the Human a stunning bunny toothed smile before he's pulling him closer by his shirt collar to press their lips together. Derek's lips move languidly against his and his tongue sneaks out to run them across Stiles' sweet lips. The mole dotted teen groans and that's when the former Alpha pulls away. "How was that?"
Stiles blinks in a daze. "Um, that was good. Great.
Derek chuckles and slices some strawberries, kiwis, apples, cantaloupes and adds them along with a few green grapes into a bowl, places a plate over to it so he can shake them up to mix them.
He reaches for the bottle of ginger ale and pours Stiles a glass and then pushes the food towards his mate. "There, dinner for champions."
"I beg to differ." The flannel adorned male mumbles as he twiddles his thumb.
"Well if you differ I'm not going to make you fruit salads anymore."
Stiles scoffs. "It seems your threats are falling a little flat there, buddy."
"Shut up and eat." Derek grumbles.
Later that night, the two were curled up in Stiles' bed with Derek's arms wrapped securely around his skinny waist as Stiles laid on top of him. "Where did you say you and Peter live again?"
"On the edge of Beacon County."
"With Brett, Josh and Theo." Stiles whispers in awe. He's in awe because Josh and Theo had both died trying to save Tracy from getting killed by a rogue Alpha and now the two wolves were alive again. Stiles had seen them on the day Derek decided to leave Beacon Hills to Alpha Scott and they smiled at him. The two had changed their ways a little after the battle with the Nogitsune and Brett had left Scott's Pack because he felt as if he didn't belong.
So the five wolves were living together now and keeping themselves out of trouble from what he's been told.
"Yeah." Derek lifted his hands to run his fingers through his mate's freshly washed hair.
"And you're happy where you are right, they're making you happy?"
"I am." The werewolf answers honestly. "Peter and I's relationship is great and I haven't felt the need to kill the other three yet."
Stiles chuckles. "You also said that there's someone else staying with you and that she's the same person who brought Theo and Josh back from the dead. I know you said it's not your secret to tell and I respect that but what's she like?"
"She's really nice and smart and level headed as well as incredibly powerful, firm but fair, protective of us too and she said she wants to meet you in person someday."
Stiles smiles. "I wanna meet her too."
"You just might be closer than you think."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm going to make you happy again, Stiles." Derek ignores his question. "I love you and I don't like seeing you like this, I'm going to do everything in my power to help you."
"Shut up before I start crying. You said Brett and Theo are mates right?"
"What's that like?"
"Loud." Derek snarls.
"Yes, but minus the sobbing and biting."
"Derek, they're love bites."
"I know." Derek lifts Stiles' hand to trace the cuts on his wrist, both new and old. "How do they not see that you're hurting?"
"But you do and that's all that matters now."
"Yes, but Scott's your best friend and has been way before I came along and something happened to you that you couldn't control and they just dropped you for it. It makes me angry."
"Not everyone has a heart like Derek Hale's and sees the good in people. If you're the only person who realizes what's going on with me then so be it."
Derek's eyes ran over Stiles' face before decided to let the subject go. "Okay, can I ask you something?"
"You know you can."
"Remember the leather jacket you told me I lost last year?"
Stiles shifted to straddle his lover's hips.
"I found it in your underwear drawer."
Stiles wakes up the following day to an empty but still warm bed, his eyes blink into focus and he sits up to pop his back, his arms stretching above his head as his body frees itself from its stiff coil.
A folded note sits neatly on Derek's pillow and the sinewy teen picks it up with a fond eye roll.
This is just to say thank you for letting me spend the night with you again and to also remind you that I'll be out of town for tonight and won't be back until tomorrow afternoon. Have a good day at school my beautiful mate, stay safe and EAT SOMETHING!
I love you Stiles.
PS: I left you one of my shirts, please don't drool all over this one, it's my favorite.
The amber eyed teen can't help the silly grin from appearing on his face and it only slips away when the cuts on his petal, pink lips burn from the stretch and his sore jaw twinges in pain. With a sigh, he refolds the note and places it in the nightstand drawer. He stands up trudges his way to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
He cringes when he sees himself in the mirror, the ugly splash of purple sticks out like a sore thumb against his porcelain skin. The cuts on his eyebrow and lip sting in protest when he moves. With a disgruntled sigh, he goes about brushing his teeth and washing his face. The water was damn near scalding, tinging his skin with a light red hue when he showered.
The soft footfalls of his sock clad feet on the stairs are the only sounds he hears, which means his dad must've already left. Turmeric and ginger tea is the hot beverage he chooses to drink this morning and he maneuvers his way around the kitchen as he effortlessly prepares some scrambled eggs and toasted brown bread to go with it. The turmeric and ginger would settle his stomach if the eggs decide to make a far less appetizing reappearance.
Wiping his hands on his jeans, he picks up his phone when it buzzes and he chuckles fondly at the text from his Worrywolf, he has really improved in the showing emotion factor because he sent his human mate a kiss emoji. Stiles thumbs out a reply and because he's extra, he adds three kisses and an eggplant emoji.
He takes the time to eat and drink, so as not to upset his stomach before popping his Adderall and some panadine for his bruises. With the kitchen cleaned and the pan and plates washed, he puts on a tattered pair of white converse, grabs his backpack and keys to the jeep before exiting the house, shutting the door behind him.
The first sight he beholds as he turns into the parking lot is the pack, their cars and Scott's bike were parked close to each other as they stood around it engaging in carefree chatter, no regards for the missing member. Stiles slips lower in the driver's seat when he sees Trent and his band of underachieving lackeys, the pale teen's jaw twitches unconsciously, the pain shooting up his face. Swallowing the nervous lump in his throat, he shuts off the jeep and steps out, clicking it to a lock, he hikes his bag higher up his shoulder and begins to walk just as the bell rings.
His body is stiff as he makes his way across the grounds, passing the pack, he knows they must have seen him or smelt him for that matter; they completely ignored him and a wave of sadness rolls over him.
Shaking his head, the teen blends in with the crowd of other students to avoid Trent as he slinks his way inside and trudges to his locker to grab his English text book.
The teen in question whirls around to face a petite girl with a pearl white smile but it slips away when she takes note of the bruises marring his features.
"Hi, hello there pretty girl I've never seen before but should have noticed.
The girl chuckles at this while raising a perfectly arched brow. "Hey Stiles, I was wondering if I could borrow your chemistry text book?"
"Sure," He reaches into his locker for the book and then hands it to her. "When would I be getting it back?"
"Is after lunch good?"
"Good, it's great. You know my name but I don't know yours." He states.
"Oh, my name's Monica Chandler."
Stiles cocks his head to the side as he takes her in. She has soot black hair that falls to the middle of her back, she's a short little thing; standing at four foot nine and on the shapely side. She has brown eyes lighter than his and he's never seen that before. She's wearing an 'All Time Low' T-shirt, dark blue jeans shorts and black TOMS. Nice.
"Are you through staring at me?" He jumps slightly and his eyes snap to hers and he's ready to apologize but stops when he sees amusement swirling around in her eyes.
"No, gimme five more minutes. What shampoo do you use?" He jokes and there's odd fluttering in his stomach when she laughs and it makes his brows wrinkle in confusion. Must be gas.
"I use Garnier Fructis."
The ringing of the warning bell cuts off his answer and it's then he looks around and see that most of the other students have left the hallway. "I better go, I've got English." He closes the locker and stalks off and only halts when he realizes she's walking behind him. "Are you following me?"
"Nope, I've got English too."
Stiles blanches at this, how has he never seen her before. It's like one of those moments where you're just noticing someone that goes to your school for the first time and then after that you just start seeing them everywhere. He shakes his head. "Well, let's go then."
"Lead the way."
Stiles left English class in better spirits, Monica was strolling leisurely by his side, a look of amusement is plastered on her face as she takes in the still laughing teen. They had spent class together giggling away at the back of the room and about half an hour in, Stiles had realized that he hadn't once looked over at the pack like he always would. Monica had successfully diverted his attention away from his ex-pack.
"Well, throwing paper balls at the back of Greenberg's head was really fun, but I've got AP Chem to get to." Monica informs and Stiles tries not to let the disappointment he feels show on his face.
"Alright," Stiles rubs his arm and shrugs lightly. "Thanks for keeping me occupied during English and remember our after lunch date." He both thanks and reminds her.
"You're welcome and if you throw in some fries I just might give you your book back without any silly little drawings inside."
"Ew, curly fries are disgusting." Monica cringes and Stiles gapes in disbelief.
"No, just no. Curly fries are a gift from God, just like Star Wars was."
The darker teen wrinkles her nose. "But Star Wars was just as bad though."
All Stiles could do was stand there with his index finger pointed at her, his jaw slack; he was rendered speechless.
"Close your mouth."
Her fingers brushed his chin to do the action for him before she moves her hand to pat his uninjured cheek, the pads of her fingers seemed to chill the warmness, he had been feeling ever since the nogitsune. After that, one of the side effects he had gotten was an increase in body temperature, making him feel hot under the collar; literally.
"Now the Twilight Saga, that's a good series." She adds and Stiles feels his eye begin to twitch because this girl has lost it, how is Twilight a better series than Star Wars? He breathes out through his nose.
"You're fucking with me aren't you?"
"Obviously, I still hate curly fries though. See you later Stiles!" The short teenager dashes off to her next class, her hurried steps nearly silent against the floors.
Stiles is in the bathroom tucking himself back into his khakis when he yanked roughly out of the stall, he falls onto his back, his head smacking against the tiles. Grunting in pain, his eyes flutter open to see Trent looming over him. "Hey there, freak."
"Hello to you too, Sweetums." Stiles rasps out a quip before he's hoisted up by his collar and slammed against the wall, his head throbbing as it connects with the automated dryer.
"You think you're real funny, don't you fag?"
Stiles rolls his eyes. "How original and yes, I do think I'm real funny; I make myself laugh."
The teen doubles over as he's kneed in the stomach. "Fuck!" He curses loudly. He doesn't have any time to react as Trent's knuckles connect to his already sore jaw. His teeth clamp down on his bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.
"What, nothing to say, fairy?" Trent taunts and the thin teen heaves as he straightens up. Staring right into the bulkier male's eyes, Stiles then slams his forehead against his nose making the taller of the two stagger and Stiles seizes the opportunity to drive an upper cut to his chin and Trent yelps when he bites his tongue, teetering back and forth before he regains his balance.
He glares at Stiles before striking a blow to his knees, the pale teen sinks to the floor and then Trent is on him like a tick, delivering punch after punch to Stiles' face, only stopping when his friends came looking for him. He kicks Stiles in the temple before leaving.
Stiles coughs wetly, spitting out some blood from his mouth onto the floor, he shakes his head to try and clear his vision, it's after his eyes regain focus, he sees two other boys in the bathroom; Scott and Isaac. They saw him getting the shit kicked out of him and did nothing about it.
He grits his teeth in pain and disbelief, purposely hanging his head so they don't see the unshed tears in his eyes when he stands up. Without making eye contact, he bolts from the restroom like a bat out of hell.
He's starting to feel woozy as he makes his way to the jeep, ignoring the calls of the monitors to come back in, starting the car, he screeches out of the parking lot to go home. His hands are trembling on the staring well and the back of his head is throbbing.
Sure, they don't talk to him anymore, that's fine. They could have at least defended him against Trent for fucksake. Do they not care about Stiles anymore to at least help him protect himself. He takes deep breaths and tries to desperately calm down so he doesn't trigger a panic attack.
Parking the car haphazardly in the driveway, he clambers out and jumps to his feet before groaning at that mistake because his head feels like it's filling up and he feels nauseous. He only runs to unlock his front door when he starts to gag.
The door slams shut and Stiles manages to throw his bag down before he's taking the stairs two at a time to get to the bathroom. He flicks the toilet seat up and empties the contents of his stomach, the thumping pain in his head increasing.
He moves on auto pilot as he flushes the toilet and gets to his feet on shaky legs to shuffle over to the cabinet, he finds what he's looking for and then he's stripping off his flannel and T-shirt.
Turning his left side to the mirror, he presses the tip of the chilly blade to it and carves a jagged 'S' that taints his pretty, pale skin. He doesn't scream at the biting pain of the blade, he only cries because he finally realizes that he has well and truly lost his pack. Turning to the other side he slices a capital "I"; they were the ones who indirectly confirmed that he's not pack anymore right.
A strained scream leaves his dry throat and he begins to leave angry slices all over his stomach in pure sorrow and rage.
Blood drips from his wounds like a half turned on faucet, he coughs and stumbles when black dots infiltrate his vision, blinking rapidly, he tries to steady himself by holding on to the tub, only to slip due to his bloody hand.
He collapses to the floor and his injuries seem to burn and sting all at once. His amber colored eyes begin to slip close, just as a figure hovers over him.
"Stiles!" The voice croaks out, frantic a tad familiar.
It's a feat, but he forces his eyes open, they feel heavy and he just feels like sleeping. The broken teen manages to grin up at the guest. "Heyyy M-Mooonica." He slurs out and the girl is ready to burst in tears.
"Oh, Stiles." She whimpers and stands to her feet. Her eyes glow a bright blue and Stiles is stunned, it's bluer than the Betas. Her hand comes down to cradle his face, her thumb swiping over the cuts and bruises on it, the tightening in her chest loosening when they disappear right before her eyes. Her thumb brushes against his bottom lip and he shudders.
She then reaches around and places a gentle hand to the bump on his head, a white light glows beneath her fingers and it vanishes. Stiles breathes out and sits up, his head feeling much better than before, he looks at the girl before him, her eyes still shining an incandescent blue as she observes him.
"You healed me." He states rather than asked.
"What are you?"
"The only person who can probably stop Derek from killing you himself."
"Wait, what?" How does she know Derek, he shakes his head and then it clicks. Derek's words from last night; 'You're closer than you think.' "You're her?"
"How did u know where I live?"
"Can I heal you before you start asking questions?"
Stiles nods. "Just stop the bleeding, I don't want the cuts to go away though."
The healer looks at him but says nothing, only doing what she's told.
"Derek talks a lot about you, all the guys do." She informs as she helps him to his feet.
"Monica, how did you know where to find me?"
"Stiles, my name isn't actually Monica at all and I'm going to show you something."
"Uh, okay." He answers wairily.
"My name is actually Nerissa," She admits and her eyes glow once more just as a pair of massive black wings span out from behind her back, filling the space of the bathroom. "And I'm an Archangel of the Lord."
Stiles faints to the blood stained floor with a thump.
"That went better than expected, Peter owes me ten dollars."