Jackson is suffocating in London. He can't breathe and every intake is like a shot of aconite being injected into his system.

There are too many people in London, everyone is going somewhere and no one stops for anything. The sounds are deafening and the sensory overload to his nose is enough to make him feel like he's slowly going crazy. He misses Danny, the people at his new school are weird and the accents are like nails on a chalkboard. Every time his parents drive somewhere fifteen minutes down the road the accent changes and Jackson is always resisting the urge to tear out someone's voice box.

It always rains, the sun seems to be holding a grudge and Jackson's body cries out for California and the beautiful sun there. He needs the warmth, his body runs higher than it used to but it's always cold in London and he can't shake the way the discomfort bleeds into his bones.

On the good days he flirts with attractive people and calls Danny to talk about nothing at all. On bad days he looks up legal emancipation on Google and has to stop himself from asking Danny for Stiles' phone number.

Jackson doesn't understand, he doesn't get why it's Stiles of all people that he has the urge to talk to on the bad days. Or why the need slowly progresses from only the bad days to every day, no matter how the day has actually been. Logically it doesn't make sense, the ache should be for Danny or Lydia, for someone that he was actually close to back in Beacon Hills. But it's not and he misses the loud rambling and the tactlessness and he hates being stuck in yet another empty house with high ceilings and cold bitterness.

His parents are acting like nothing is different, like they didn't just uproot their whole life because Jackson was attracting too much attention in Beacon Hills. He passes up on the offers to go to the stuffy social functions they seem to enjoy even though he would have agreed back in Beacon Hills. Showing off his wealth and designer clothes just leaves an empty feeling in his stomach and on the bad days he doesn't want to get out of bed let alone put on the facade that he has become.

It takes him another month to crack and he finds himself looking at plane tickets back to Beacon Hills. Money isn't a problem and the urge to click the check out button is maddening but before his fingers can twitch his phone goes off and he is looking at a picture Danny has sent him of the lacrosse team.

Scott and Isaac are chatting, huddled together closely. Greenberg is in the background getting barked at by Coach Finstock and Danny's flirting with a guy Jackson has never seen before. He knows the picture has been taken from the bleachers because the whole team is in the picture, some way or another. He can't figure out who has taken a picture because he thinks it might have been Stiles but then he sees him off to the side, tripping over his own feet.

The picture makes him smile and his cheeks ache, he hasn't smiled properly in weeks. There is a number in another message underneath the photo and Jackson sucks in a breath. He doesn't know how Danny knew but the line underneath that says 'you should call. he misses you too' leaves no question as to who his best friend is talking about.

It takes him a few minutes to gather the courage to call the number Danny sends him. He paces around his room, declines his adoptive mother's attempts to bring him out of his room for dinner and eventually settles under the covers of his duvet. The room is dark and quiet and the sound his phone makes as it rings drowns out the sound of London's traffic. His breath hitches when the phone picks up on the other end.

"Jackson?"

Stiles' voice makes Jackson's heart ache. It's just one word and he might not be okay but he can breathe a little easier now.