So I've been absolutely obsessed with Teen Wolf lately, but mostly Stiles. I'm so glad theirs so much fanfiction about him, he's such a brilliant character.
As for the mental disorder Stiles has, I'm mostly using symptoms of borderline personality disorder. However I've never experienced it or met someone who has experienced it so I hope I don't get it all wrong or offend anyone. You don't have to look at it as BPD if you don't want, I suppose.
Also, not sure what pairing this will have, if it has one at all. Maybe Stiles will end up single.
Or date me.
Anyway, here is my very first Teen Wolf fanfiction.
He wasn't sure when it happened, exactly. The moment when he realized that everyone leaves eventually.
His mother, Jackson, Erica, Boyd, Aiden, Ethan, Allison, Isaac, the list goes on and on. Whether they died or up and left town, they left him.
He was unwanted.
He tried not to ponder this fear often, but yet he would often find himself staring up at his ceiling until the early hours of the morning wondering why he had to be so worthless that everyone would just leave.
So worthless that his mother would rather die than deal with him.
"If you're mad at me, just say something." Scott glances up from his sandwich, startled by his friend's statement.
The pack, sans Derek, is gathered around their usual lunch table.
"Where is this coming from? Why would I be angry with you?"
"You're kicking me out of the pack, aren't you?"
"Stiles, what are you talking about?"
But Stiles has already stormed from the table in a huff, leaving the group as confused as ever.
"I'll go talk to him" Malia offers, and the others just nod as she gets up to follow her boyfriend.
"What was that about?" Lydia asks and Scott just shakes his head.
"You're asking me? I have no clue what he's talking about."
"Maybe he's still blaming himself for what happens with the nogitsune." Kira offers,, right before Scotts phone buzzes.
It's a text from Malia, that simply reads, Boys locker room, but he knows right away that Stiles needs help.
As he enters the boys locker room, the scent of fear hits his nose immediately, while the sound of Stiles hyperventilating, and the whisperings of calming words from Malia fill his ears.
Scott walks further into the locker room only to see Stiles slumped over a row of lockers.
Malia is rubbing soothing circles in his back with one hand, while he's desperately clinging to the other.
"Hey Stiles" Scott greets as squats down to Stiles' level, and between frantic gasps for air their eyes meet, "shhh it'd okay buddy. You're all right."
Slowly but surely Malia and Scott are able to coach Stiles out of his panic attack, but they were still worried about Stiles, you didn't need werewolf senses to know he was terrified.
"I'm sorry Scott."
"For what?"
"For getting mad at the table, I don't blame your decision."
Scott is confused by the latter part of his friend's statement, "what decision?"
"To kick me from the pack, I understand the decision. All I've done so far is get possessed."
"Stiles, you've done a lot to help. Besides, I'm not kicking you out of the pack, who told you that?"
Theirs a flicker of something in Stiles' eye, "I just had a feeling."
"What gave you that feeling?"
All Stiles can do is response is shrug, and he looks around the locker room for a bit before glancing back at Scott, "so we're still friends then?"
Scott is more confused now more than ever, "Of course we're still friends! Dude we're brothers."
Stiles smiles a little, but it's not enough to rid Scott of his concern.
However, they don't talk about the incident and in the blink of an eye Stiles is back to his normal behavior. Everyone just assumes he was stressed or tired, and pushed the incident to the back of their minds.
It's not until a few weeks later that Stiles gets that odd feeling again. It's 7:30 and his dad was supposed to be home half an hour ago. However, instead of his mind jumping to the conclusion of extra paperwork, or heavy traffic, he has this aching feeling that his dad isn't coming home.
It's not his usual fear, the one that his dad was injured or…worse.
No, this fear has him convinced that his father had packed a bag and left, not wanting to see his face ever again.
Stiles begins pacing around his room, unable to focus, unable to breathe.
He pops an Adderall even though he took his pill this morning, hoping it will help him stop freaking out.
When this theory proves false he just pops another, and it about to do it again when he hears the front door shut.
"Stiles! C'mon I picked up a pizza on the way home!"
He bolts down the stairs and just stares as his father enters the kitchen.
"Okay, I know, I know. But it's veggie pizza with whole wheat curst so-"
His father is cut off by Stiles engulfing him with a hug.
"I was afraid you weren't coming home." He mumbles and his father returns the hug.
"You were afraid I was…hurt? I'm sorry kiddo I should've called to tell you I'd be running late."
Stiles doesn't know why, but he's offended by his fathers confusion, by the fact that he's not fessing up to almost abandoning Stiles.
He quickly pushes away from his father, "no, that's not it!" he shouts before running up to his room and slamming the door behind him.
He's screaming into his pillow. First he was angry with his father and now he's just angry with himself
"Stiles? What's going on?"
He starts tossing things around the room, he can't fight this…whatever this is and it's eating at him.
It's like all he can feel is anger, blind rage, fury.
He wants to slam his head into a brick wall if would just let him clear his mind.
His father's frantic pleas are drowned out by the taunting thoughts.
They're all going to leave you.
You're worthless.
Die.
However, the sound of shattering glass is enough to break the spell and he realizes he's thrown something at his mirror.
He picks up the piece that fell out and studies it for a moment, before realizing theirs blood dripping down his arm.
