''Now tell me one more time''
Stiles interupted him with a groan, ''Dad, I've told you... I want this!'' He insisted enthusiastically, ''You know it's been my dream since I was twelve to get accepted into Beacon Hills Academy. They have the best trainers in the country!''
His father just sighed and took a drink out of his mug. He knew it was pointless arguing with his son.
He'd never pushed Stiles towards running or any athletics in particular but he seemed to naturally gravitate towards it. It started when his mother passed away. It was very sudden and unexpected for the both of them. He realises now that drawing further and further into himself only hurt his son even more. He was at least grateful he turned himself towards a positive way to work through his grief by running. Most teenagers turned to drugs or alcohol. And as a sheriff he sees what happens to those kids every day.
''I know Stiles'' he smiled, ''You've told me so many times but... I'd still like to make sure''
Stiles just shook his head, ''Bit late now, dad! I'm leaving in about...'' he stopped to look at his watch, ''six hours and counting''.
''I gotta tell you, I'm really not jealous of the fact you have to wake up at 4 am to take a three hour coach journey. Is there really no other way?''
''I'd walk if I had to''. And he meant it.
Stiles spun the rest of the spaghetti on his play around with his fork and stared at it.
He felt an excited sickness in the bottom of his stomach. He had worked so hard at the trials to get noticed and he'd managed to get in. To be accepted where he truly belonged. He knew he was going to miss Malia, but they'd agreed the relationship had run its course and he really didn't have any other friends from High school. Once he graduated all of those people he tolerated didn't keep in contact.
And he was glad.
He wondered if he should feel guilty for leaving his dad behind. His new training schedule was going to be brutal and he wondered if he'd ever have any spare time left to visit.
As much as he didn't want to leave his dad alone, he couldn't stay.
This small town didn't feel the same anymore. It once felt cosy. Safe. It clinged to him now. The memories of this place... his mother...
All the teachers at school tried to dissuade him from running.
''He's a smart boy but he really needs to focus'' was a common phrase he heard.
He was focusing. Just not on his school work. He passed with good grades. Not great like they could have been. He was intelligent and he knows he could have done better. But at what cost to his running?
When he ran, he felt... free. It was only him when he ran. Him and his thoughts. It was strange how such a mindless activity allowed him to think clearer than before without anyone in his ear telling him what to do or what to think.
''Stop playing with your food'' he sighed.
Stiles looked up at his dad.
''Go upstairs. Get as much sleep as you can''.
Stiles silently obeyed and went up the stairs.