AN: This is the sequel to 'Silenced Wounds'. I originally wrote this with no muse or inspiration to do it, recently I've been able to find a reason to write this. Reading 'Silenced Wounds' is not needed because it will cover every aspect of that story, unfolding like a movie. I hope you guys like it.
Title taken from 'Fallout' but Marianas Trench, I suggest listening to the song. It's really good.
Fallout
Summary: Having every secret laid out in front of him was like playing poker with his cards face up on the table. It was a losing bet, it was just a matter of time. He was losing his mind and this time there were people who agreed with his thoughts.
Warnings: Dark thoughts, past rape of a child. Possible Triggers.
It took years to build up the wall to pretend that everything was okay, took hours to place each brick on top of the other and it got knocked down so many times. It took too long to build just to pretend and cope unhealthily. Yet, somehow, it only took that man a few weeks to completely destroy it. Leaving Stiles to try and fix each shattered brick and place them on top of each other, with shaky hands and watery eyes. Every day he tried to place those thoughts in the back of his mind, seal them away and cut them off, like he had learned to do so easily, but one look at his friend, one touch from his father and they were filling his head with so many memories. Memories that haunted him, ones that he used to be able to cope with no matter how badly they broke him inside. It took years to learn how to keep his mask intact and if his loved ones faces say anything he's doing a crap job at it.
He doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't want to hear about it. He wants to forget about it, wants to pretend it never happened, like he's been doing all these years. He doesn't want Scott or his father or someone he's gonna pay to make him feel better. He feels fine and he knows that's a lie but he can pretend. He can pretend because he did it before it was written on their faces and he'll do it again. He'll ignore the pain in his chest, the nightmares. He'll ignore the thoughts and push aside the memories. He might just keep his eyes open a few nights in a row and pretend that the feelings, the words, the dreams don't exist, that it's not carved on the inside of his eyelids. He'll pretend he's not breaking and put himself together. He's done it once…he's faked it once before…before everyone knew. He can do it again. And he knows he's lying.
When morning comes, Stiles has bags under his eyes and he hasn't slept a wink. There's a fear in his mind from the nights prior of haunting nightmares that caused him to sweat and cry and scream. He flicked the light on and looked around his room after he bolted upright in bed, almost sighing when he saw no one there.
'It's not real anymore' He tells himself. 'it's all in your head' and he'll buy everything he say, because it's better than facing the fact he was so pathetic he couldn't even face the man. So pathetic he trusted that man the first time he opened that bedroom door.
At nine years old, the two boys have an early bed time, on and off school nights. Melissa had gone to work only a few hours and Papa McCall had to put them to bed. He told the boys they were much too old to be sharing a bed and tucked Scott in before leading Stiles into the guestroom. Stiles frowned, he liked sleeping in Scott's bed with the other boy, it gave him a sense of security. Scott had become his security blanket and Stiles had been Scott's. The two mother's thought it was adorable and encouraged their behavior but Mr. McCall didn't.
"Why can't I sleep with Scott?" Stiles says, pursing his lips and crossing his arms while tilting his head. McCall looks down on him and sighs.
"Because, Genim, I told you, it's weird for two boys to sleep in the same bed together?" Stiles narrowed his eyes, thinking about it.
"Well, why?" He asks, confused. "If two boys want to sleep together why shouldn't they. I want to sleep in Scott's room."
"Well you can't." McCall yells at him and Stiles pouts at him. McCall sighs and rubs his hands over his face. "Look, will you just get into bed and go to sleep like a good boy."
"Why should I?" Stiles says back, making the father wonder how his parents put up with him. "If I can't sleep in Scott's bed I can't sleep."
"You sleep in your bed at home." Stiles thinks about it and then shakes his head. "Look," McCall says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why don't I grab something from Scott for you to sleep with, will that help?" Stiles debates it before deciding.
"Okay." He says and McCall sighs, walking back to his sons room, where he grabs one of his sons few teddy bears that he really needed to get rid of. Stiles is already curled in the bed by the time the man comes back and snuggles with the little bear just as fast. Stiles watched the older man leave and shut the door, he smiled lightly and snuggled the bear but he couldn't sleep. So he tossed and he turned, he kicked at the blankets and made the bed squeak. He heard the footsteps and paused, staring at the door. Knuckles rapped lightly against them and he stared.
"Genim? Open the door." McCall's voice is calm and quiet, with a tiredness about it. It reminds him on his mother when she comes to read him a bedtime story when he can't sleep, singing him songs until he sleeps. He gets off the bed and makes his way to the door, opening it and smiling up at the older man.
"I can't sleep." He says and McCall nods, putting a hand on his shoulder and turning him before leading him back to the bed and shutting the door behind him.
"I know I could hear you down the hall, Scott's already asleep." McCall gives a small push and Stiles climbs on the bed, lying on his back to face the man. McCall smells a little funny but Stiles doesn't mention it.
"Sorry." He mumbles lightly and pulls the bear to cover his mouth. McCall places his hand on Stiles arm and rubs up and down.
"Don't worry, kid, I'll help you sleep." He says before leaning down.
He rubs a circle out of the steamed up mirror, looking at himself in it. He frowns at his reflection, and closes his eyes as he rubs his hands at his face. "C'mon, get a grip." He mutters to himself before gripping the edge of the towel around his waist and heading back to his room. He dries his hair before tossing his towel to the side of the room and getting dressed. He grabs his backpack and jogs down the stairs, throwing it to the floor when he smells the aroma of food, knowing his father would expect him to grab a bite before he left.
"Hey kiddo." He father greets with a smile but Stiles can see behind that, doesn't stop the teenager from smiling back.
"Morning dad." He mutters, pouring himself a glass of juice before sitting at the table.
"How'd you sleep?" His heart pounds in his chest before he shrugs, brushing it off. He's lied enough and something this small doesn't actually matter.
"Fine, you know, same as last night." John frowns at his son before placing a plate of food in front of the kid. Stiles looks down at it and frowns for a second before taking a gulp of the juice and grabbing his fork. John knows Stiles hasn't been sleeping well but doesn't know how to confront the situation.
"You sure?" He questions and Stiles lifts his head to look at him, before nodding. "Everything's okay?"
"Yeah fine." Stiles nods, it comes out easier than lying about werewolves ever did. "But uh…I'm not that hungry. I'm actually going to head to school, I promised Scott we'd study before class anyway."
"Right…" John nods, watching his son down the rest of his juice before putting everything else away. "Just…if you want to talk, I'm here. You know that right?" Stiles nods and smiles at his father, clearly spotting the fact his father doesn't believe him.
"Right, thanks dad." He grabs his bag and ducks back it. "Love ya though." John smiles and nods.
"Love you too." He watches his son leave and sighs. He doesn't know what to do anymore. Stiles ate little these days and John knew he wasn't sleeping, if the bags under his eyes weren't indication enough the noises from his room were. He takes Stiles to a therapist twice a week but that hasn't seemed to help, he apparently avoids any emotional topics and John's running out of ways to help. He wishes his wife was here, she'd know what to do she was better at this then he was. He puts his head on his hand for a second. He just wants to know his son isn't falling apart, he wants to protect his son and it kills him to know he's failed and is failing. He needs a manual. He stands and gets ready for work.
Stiles drives for a few seconds before he turns off the road and cuts the engine. He rests his head against his arms on the steering wheel and tries to breathe through it. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. He can feel himself falling apart and repositions his rearview mirror to meet his brown eyes in them. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. He can see it in their eyes and it's starting to kill him on the inside. He forces a smile and mentally berates himself. He'd make it through today, like he's made it through every other day. Nothing was wrong. Inhale. Nothing was wrong. Exhale. He was okay. He starts the car and drives down the road and to school. He'd get through this, like he did before.