Hello readers! Here is my new fic! So, basically this is about the Nogitsune never existing but Stiles still manages to get diagnosed with Frontotemporal Dementia. It's kinda depressing but I'd like to see how far I go with this! Enjoy!

Stiles doesn't understand why this has to happen to him. To go on day by day knowing that you're going to die. They call it depression. Everyone's saying it's just a side-effect of the dementia...but it's not. They already know it's a side-effect of dying. Stiles doesn't need to be told twice.

Or, The Nogitsune never existed and Stiles really did get the same sickness his mother had...Frontotemperal Dementia. And he feels himself starting to fade away.

He doesn't understand why this has to happen to him.

To go on day by day knowing that he's going to die. The doctors call it depression. Everyone, including his friends, say it's just a side-effect of the dementia…but it's not. They already know it's a side-effect of dying. Stiles doesn't need to be told twice. Days had gone by since the MRI scan at the hospital. Then days turned to weeks. Then to months. And not one of those days has Stiles ever had his mind taken off of the dementia slowly eating away his brain cells.

Then there was the migraines he would get, which would add to the list of side-effects of the dementia. Stiles called it normal. His father called it a killer…which Stiles agreed with but never admitted that he did. He agreed because it was the same disease that took his mother. It had come unexpectedly to both of them. Just like this exact moment.

Melissa requested to come to the hospital once a week for checkups and more hospital gibberish talk on medication to take and when the next MRI scan will be. Stiles won't even listen to half of what the doctors are telling him. Take fluoxetine. Take sertraline. There's no medication to take away the dementia. There's no cure.

So of course, Stiles had to just simply roll his eyes at the list of doctors named off of different medications to take. He knows his father can't blame him. Usually when they arrive home back from the hospital his father tries to lighten up the mood and try to take his mind off of it. It never works. He knows that his father tries so hard to take care of him. He loves him for that.

So here he was. Stiles Stilinski. The boy who never told his friends what his real name is, sitting on the edge of his bed as daylight peeked through the curtains of his bedroom. He can't remember the last time he slept; another side-effect. The list just keeps adding on.

A light knock on the door frame interrupted his thoughts. He turned to see the Sheriff with a coffee mug in one hand, not surprised to see him wearing his usual concerned and sorrowful face every time he looked at him. Stiles eyed the mug with sad eyes, knowing his father drinks coffee more than two times a day now, trying to keep himself awake for his son in case something happened. He remembers a few days ago telling the Sheriff to stop drinking coffee and get rest, but of course, he didn't obey. That's another thing on how much they have in common.

"Hey, buddy. You feel up for school today?"

There it was, the school talk. The night after the MRI scan he didn't go back to school for nearly two weeks. He remembered ignoring everyone's calls and texts asking him if he was okay. Scott included. He remembered Scott knocking on his front door when he didn't answer his calls and his father making up an excuse of him sleeping or a simple 'he wants to be alone right now'. Stiles had to laugh at the sleep part. Scott would easily know it was a lie without using his werewolf mojo. Since when did Stiles ever sleep?

"Yeah. I'll go."

His father could hear the hesitation in his voice, but he pushed it away and only nodded with a small smile before disappearing out of Stiles' vision, simply going downstairs. Stiles sighed and sat on the edge of his bed for a few minutes just staring at a small stain on his carpet where the sunlight shone on, before moving very slowly towards the bathroom.

He closed the door behind him and switched the light on (which wasn't needed since it was daytime but he didn't care) and opened the medicine cabinet above the sink to grab an orange pill bottle. With ease, he popped the pill in his mouth and swallowed it like it was nothing as he stared into his reflection in the mirror as he did it. He notices the bags under his eyes of restless sleep and how pale his skin looked, but he was always pale. He then grabbed the ibuprofen bottle and popped that pill in his mouth as he did the other. It was for the migraines, which only keep coming back every thirty minutes.

His father tells him not to take too much or it would be an overdose. Stiles tried to hide a distinctive roll of his eyes at the comment, but kept it to himself. He knows his father is just looking after him, just like every parent should do for their child.

Stiles then begins to make his way downstairs to smell the fresh aroma of the Sheriff frying eggs and toasting bread. He sighed inwardly on how much his father is telling him to eat more, but Stiles honestly hasn't been hungry lately. He stepped into the kitchen to pick up his backpack that was leaning in its usual spot on the back wall. Throwing a small smile at him. It wasn't a real smile. He can't remember the last time he smiled.

The Sheriff returned it and he placed the fresh cooked egg on a plate, turning against the stove to face him. "You hungry?"

Stiles shook his head and scratched the back of his head, waiting for a lecture from him. Surprisingly it never came. "Okay, if you won't eat while I'm here, maybe I'll have to ask Melissa to lecture you about getting your nutrients and maybe – just maybe, you'll listen to her?"

Stiles sighed. "Dad, I'm not hungry okay? And by the way, I really don't feel like being lectured as if I'm in a health class learning about the six nutrients. Coach Finstock already taught us that last year." Last year. Last year before I was diagnosed.

After several beats of silence, the Sheriff let out a long sigh. "Fine. At least…can you wait till I'm done eating and I'll drive you to school?"

Stiles shook his head again. "I think I'm capable of driving myself, Dad. I haven't completely lost it yet." He clamped his lips shut tightly at his last remark. He couldn't help but cringe at the sight of his father's hurt expression as he placed the plate on the table slowly. "Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that-,"

"No." the Sheriff cut him off with a raise of his hand. "It's okay. I get it."

Silence hang in the air for several moments as Stiles watched his father pick at his food with a fork in hand. Stiles broke the silence with a sigh. "I guess – I guess I'll be on my way to school then."

The Sheriff nodded. "Alright. And Stiles?"

Stiles stopped his tracks at mid-turn to look at his father. "If – If anything happens-,"

"I'll call you." Stiles finished for him. "I know."

Sheriff nodded in agreement as he watched Stiles slowly leave out the front door.

The drive to school seemed long. Stiles had to blame himself for that since he drove at the speed limit of 20 miles per hour when it was supposed to be 35. Apparently the dementia makes him see things differently. When surroundings around him are fast it seems slow to him. Sometimes it's the other way around. It really irritates him.

He slowly pulled into a parking space in front of school, purposely parking right next to Scott's bike. Scott. He hasn't spoken with him since last week through a phone call. Scott was wanting to see if he was okay and why he barely went to school anymore. The way Scott says it is as if he has no clue about what's happening with him. He hated that. How people he knew would pass by him, pretending the dementia wasn't eating away his brain cells and act like he was completely fine. Fine? Since when?

Pushing away the stupid thought, he slowly climbed out of his jeep carrying his bag with him to only hear the school bell ring meaning that first period has just started. He sighed to himself as he took his time to walk into the school which now all hallways were empty. His walks felt as if an anchor was shackled to one of his legs, dragging heavily behind him when he finally reached his first period class. Health. With extremely irritating and loud Coach Finstock and his remarks about Greenberg and other talks of lacrosse in a health class. This class will definitely give me a migraine. He thought as he opened the door to step in.

"Don't make me tell you again, Greenberg-,"

Coach Finstock stopped his yell short when he glanced at who Stiles stepped in. All eyes in the classroom fell on him as he stood near the doorframe looking at nothing but the floor.

Finstock's eyes widened slightly. "Stilinski?" he said surprisingly softly instead of his usual outbursts.

Stiles finally looked up and realized Scott was eyeing him with wide eyes from across the room. Stiles' heart skipped a couple beats before quickly looking at the floor again. He had forgotten he had the same class with him. "Sorry I'm late, Coach."

"No! I-I mean," Finstock stopped to clear his throat. "Take a seat."

Stiles obliged as he slowly edged his way towards the empty desk behind Scott. He felt all eyes still stare at him even as he sat down as if they were burning heat signatures into his skull.

When Stiles was situated was when Finstock began to speak his usual outburst of yelling at Greenberg and continue on with the learning topic of the day. Scott turned around in his seat to face him with wide eyes and a shocked expression. "Hey, man. I thought you weren't coming today."

Stiles faked a smirk. "Yeah, I'm actually feeling a little better." Lie. I will never feel better. If Scott could hear his heart beat, he didn't care. He should know. Shouldn't everyone?

Scott gave a small smile. "Hey, you feel up to coming over by my house tonight? My mom's making lasagna."

Stiles loved lasagna. Scott knows he does. Stiles then remembered his father telling him to get out more and go over by Scott's. To be honest, Stiles felt bad for not being in contact with any of his friends lately. He knows everyone in the school feels bad for him. The way they look at him when they pass by him. Pity. Pure pity.

"Uh, sure. I-I'll come." He couldn't help but shake off the tremble in his voice. The migraine was coming back. It was as if someone was drilling into his skull. He closed his eyes in pain and rubbed the palm of his hands on his temple.

Scott noticed this and his wolf whined. "Stiles? You okay?"

Stiles nodded, rubbing a hand down his face. "Yeah," No. "I just…nothing. Nothing's wrong."

Scott knows it's a lie. Stiles knows he knows. Stiles could practically feel Scott staring at him the entire class period without having to look at him. "Stiles, you can tell me."

He only shook his head and stayed silent. Tell you what? That I'm dying?

The rest of the class period Stiles didn't talk or listen to Finstock's remarks and lectures. He only had his head down on his desk looking into pure darkness as the migraine began to grow. He tried his best not to wince or gasp in pain where Scott could notice. He was sure Scott already has.

He was thankful when the bell rang for first class to be over. When he brought his head up from the desk he realized he was the last person to get up and Scott was waiting patiently. He sighed as he grabbed his bag and swung it over his shoulder as they made their way to walk out of the classroom.

"Hey, Stilinski."

Stiles stopped short meters from the door to turn and see Finstock sit at his desk looking at him with pity in his eyes. There it was. The pity. But coming from him, it felt like he was hallucinating.

"I'm glad you showed up today. You think you can still help out with lacrosse?"

Stiles gave a small smile. "I'll think about it, Coach."

"Good."

Stiles walked out of the classroom then with Scott still waiting for him. The hallways were crowded when he stepped out and of course, all eyes were on him when he passed by. He couldn't help but feel slightly aware of his surroundings. He felt as if the student population in the school has overgrown since the last time he came. As if he was going to bump into one student that will make him topple over and the other students would trample over him.

He let out a sigh of relief when he finally reached his familiar locker with Scott's right next to his. Instead of opening it however, he only leaned his head against it, feeling the cool metal against his skin. He closed his eyes as the migraine made his head throb.

"-iles. Stiles."

Stiles picked his head up quickly to realize that Scott was trying to get his attention for quite some time now. He gazed into the familiar puppy eyed best friend who gave him a worried expression. "Stiles. You're not okay. Do you need to go home?"

Stiles would have laughed if he was in the spirit. If he wasn't diagnosed. But he only gave a fake smile. "I'm good, Scott."

"No, you're not."

"What else am I supposed to say?"

Scott clamped his lips in a thin line and looked at the floor. Stiles could see regret written all over his face. He sighed and patted his shoulder. "Look, Scott. I'm just gonna see if I can survive the whole school day, alright? And if…if I feel any worse, I'll let you take me home."

Scott looked at him again and their eyes locked. "Promise?"

Stiles hesitated for a short split second. "I promise."

If only he wished it was true.

They were in Mr. Yukimura's class now. It was just like first period. The stares, the migraine. The only difference was that Lydia and Kira happened to be in the same class they were. Lydia eyed him the entire class period and he could almost feel Kira staring at the back of his head. He tried to ignore eye contact with anyone. He was just thankful Mr. Yukimura didn't call on him to read today.

Scott sat on the other side of the room away from him so Stiles wasn't sure if he would look back at him once in a while. But he had a feeling he did. He couldn't help but glance at Lydia from across the aisle, trying to sneak her phone under her desk texting someone. Stiles found that odd because Lydia was the smartest girl he knew and she would think twice before texting during class.

Then it hit him. He leaned slightly to his right so that he could see Scott clearly, to also see him sneak his phone under his own desk beginning to text. They were talking about him. Stiles didn't need to turn around to look at Kira because he knew that she was texting them too.

"Phones away, please."

All three heads looked up at Mr. Yukimura, which he returned with a stern look. Stiles almost laughed. Almost.

They reluctantly obliged and slipped there phones back in their bags.

The bell rang for the class to be over and the students all scattered out of the classroom as if there was some famous celebrity giving autographs in the hallway. The last ones out were Stiles, Scott, Lydia, and Kira, who of course waited on Stiles since he took his time on getting up.

Lydia smiled sweetly, though somewhere behind her eyes, Stiles could sense the sadness. Same with Kira. "Hey guys."

They greeted him back with smiles. Stiles was sure he had never seen Lydia smile so big. Scott patted him on the shoulder as they all walked out of the classroom together.

"So, Stiles. How've you been doing?" Lydia asked as they made their way to the cafeteria.

Stiles hesitated. You mean besides the constant migraines? "I'm fine."

Lydia slowed her pacing for a moment before walking their speed again. She knows I'm lying.

Lunch with Allison and Isaac was interesting. Allison talked to him the entire time, for once taking his mind off of the dementia. Even Ethan and Aiden showed up at the table along with Danny who seemed a little awkward at first but then grew used to it. Scott was surprisingly quiet though. He sat to the left of Stiles once in a while taking a glance at him from here to there. Stiles didn't talk at all. He only managed to nod or shake his head to yes or no questions and he answered repeating questions such as 'how are you feeling?' or 'are you okay?' Of course, he didn't mind answering them. It just felt weird to answer the same thing repeatedly. He stared at his untouched tray of food picking at it with his plastic fork as if it was plain dirt.

"Are you going to eat?" Lydia asked, ending the awkward silence. She eyed the tray of food then looked at him then look at the tray again. Her eyes narrowed.

Stiles placed his plastic fork on the table beside his tray and shook his head. "Nah, I'm not hungry."

Lydia pressed her lips into a thin line as all eyes turned to him once he said it. Great.

"Are you sure you're not hungry, Stiles?" Allison asked, quickly taking a sip from her water bottle. "Have you eaten anything yet today?"

Stiles hesitated before shaking his head slowly. "No."

"Stiles you should eat." Scott jumped in. Stiles had to roll his eyes.

"I'm fine."

"No, Stiles. You're not fine. Tell me the truth."

"The truth? You want to know the truth?" the whole cafeteria got quiet then and he could feel all eyes were on him. He didn't care. "The truth is, I'm dying Scott, okay? I'm sorry if that hurt you but that is the truth! You all just go around and look at me and talk to me as if I don't have it. But I know I have it, okay? I know I have it and there is no reason to make me think otherwise! So maybe you're right, Scott. Maybe you're right that I'm not okay. Because I will never be okay!"

Stiles grabbed his bag and stormed out without any others to protest. He could feel all the shocked glares thrown at him at his back but he kept moving. He heard Scott calling his name but he pushed it away and walked out of the cafeteria and walked out of the school.

Dementia. He cursed the word now. He could feel himself beginning to fade away.

Stiles felt regret. He never meant to yell at Scott or anyone. He knew it was the dementia changing his behavioral status. That's what apart of Frontotemporal Dementia was. Stiles couldn't help himself but research the disease on his laptop a few days after he found out he was diagnosed. Behavioral variant frontotemporal dementia; takes its greatest toll on personality and behavior. It is sometimes mistaken for depression.

Stiles closed his eyes as he sat on the floor with his back leaning against the foot of the bed. When he had gotten home, he took another fluoxetine pill and two ibuprofen pills for the excruciating migraine. He never wanted this. This life. This disease.

His dad told him he took a few weeks off of work to look after him. Stiles couldn't blame him. He gets worse every day and there's no stopping it.

For some reason, he finally began to feel sleepy. That wasn't normal. It must have been the ibuprofen. His eyes stayed shut closed for a while, hoping he could finally sleep until a light knock on his doorframe made him blink his eyes open into awareness. He turned to see Scott standing there hesitantly, sadness was written all over his face.

"Hey." Scott murmured, not moving from his position.

"Hey." Stiles replied, shifting into a comfortable position on the floor. "I'm guessing my dad let you in?"

Scott nodded as he finally had the courage to make his way towards his best friend and sit down close beside him until their shoulders brushed. They sat there for a while in silence, not seeming to find any words to say. And then that moment ended.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

They both muttered in unison, locking each other's gazes. Stiles scoffed. "Scott, I should be the one apologizing, okay?"

Scott shook his head firmly. "No. It should be me. That outburst you made in the cafeteria? That was my fault. I pushed you-,"

"It's called Behavioral variant frontotemporal dementia. It's known to change personality and behaviors."

"And that wasn't your fault." Scott pressed. "You can't control it."

Stiles drew out a shaky breath and opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out.

"That behavioral variant thingy? That's a side-effect of the dementia-,"

"No, Scott. It's a side-effect of dying."

Scott clamped his lips shut as he examined Stiles' watery eyes. Stiles bit his lip, trying to keep in a sob. "Why can't you just admit that I'm dying, Scott?" Stiles felt a single tear stream down his cheek. "There's no hope."

Stiles would have called it Déjà vu if he had his sense of humor again. But that's not what happened. It feels like they're back the hotel again, except that it's Stiles holding the flare over a puddle of gasoline this time.

Stiles couldn't help but notice the realization hit Scott's eyes. Before he could ask, Scott answered for him. "Stiles…the bite."

Stiles heart felt like it completely stopped. It's funny what two words can do. "W-what?"

"The bite. It can save you. It can…" Scott broke off when he saw Stiles slowly shake his head in denial. "Stiles?"

"I can't." Stiles choked as more tears streamed down his face. "I-I can't do that to my dad. I can't risk it."

Scott's eyes began to water at Stiles' words. "No, Stiles. You don't get to do that. You don't get to choose. Y-you have to take it because I am not watching you die."

"And what would happen if the bite won't take? I'm not strong enough. I-I'm not strong enough, Scotty." Stiles couldn't keep in his sobs. "If you do it I will never forgive you."

Scott let a few tears stream down his face as he pulled Stiles into an embrace. Stiles wrapped his arms firmly around his best friend as he cries into his shoulder. "We'll get through this, Stiles. Okay? We're gonna get through this together."

Stiles hoped he can actually believe it.

Okay, I know what you're thinking. Why didn't Stiles take the bite? Who cares what his dad thinks? I really just want to see how far this can go in multiple chapters. Thanks for reading the first chapter! I'll update soon! Reviews are welcome!