Step One

"This was how the world ended. Not with a bang, but with a whimper."

― Andrea Speed

And that was it. He was alone in the world. His dad was dead; his dad who was the sheriff, who was supposed to keep everyone safe had failed to do so for himself, and now Stiles was left all alone. The finality of this realization weighed on him to the point he was sure he would be crushed to death by it. What a way to go, he mused.

It had been just over a week since the moment he had gotten the phone call that had changed everything. He hadn't been out of the house since. He hadn't gone to his own father's funeral; he didn't think he'd ever get over the guilt, but he just couldn't go. He couldn't face all the people who would surely come and talk about what a good man his father was and how lucky Stiles had been to have such an amazing dad. Stiles already knew all of that. He didn't think he could take hearing it and manage to thank people for their condolences. He couldn't. It would make everything to real. He'd even banned the pack from coming over, and if anyone came to the door, he simply ignored it until they gave up and went away.

Stiles wasn't even sure what day it was anymore nor could he remember the last time he'd eaten or showered or done anything at all other than stare up at his ceiling from his bed. Not that he cared. What did anything matter anyway? Both his parents were dead. Sure, he was eighteen now, so he was technically an adult, but he was alone.

After his mother died, it had become him and his dad against the world. They were close, a lot closer than most teenage boys and their fathers. Stiles trusted his dad with everything, and his dad did the same with him. Stiles had been the reason the Sheriff had stopped drinking too much after his wife's death. Stiles was the reason he tried to eat healthier to keep his cholesterol in check. They were each other's reason for moving forward.

But now, Stiles was alone. He didn't have a father to care if he ate enough or if he had nightmares or if he felt like his heart had been carved right out of his chest. What was he supposed to do? Why should he keep going if the people he loved the most were both dead?

He sat up in bed. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was just done with everything, done with life. He swiftly stood, grabbing his jacket and heading to the bathroom were he went to the medicine cabinet. He grabbed the bottle of pills before he could think too much about it, and headed outside to his jeep. If he was going to do this, he didn't want to do it in his house. He had to get away.

xxx

Stiles rolled the bottle of pills back and forth between his palms. He had ended up sitting on a rock at the edge of the woods that overlooked Beacon Hills. It was the end of fall, so the ground was covered with dried leaves while the trees stood bare against the gray sky. A crisp breeze blew through the forest as Stiles continued to stare at the object in his hands.

"You don't want to do that," a voice spoke from behind him.

Stiles practically jumped out of his skin as he spun around to face the owner of the voice. Isaac Lahey's soft blue eyes met his which startled him. He expected Scott or maybe even Derek, but not Isaac. Still, after a moment, he glared and turned to sit once more.

"Yeah, how would you know?" Stiles spat not bothering to look back.

"I don't know," Isaac replied softly as he took a seat next to Stiles. "I'd say I have some experience."

Stiles just looked at him through furrowed brows.

"Well, I mean, it's not like I've never thought about, you know, killing myself before," Isaac's cheeks flushed. "I mean, everyone in this whole town knows what my dad did to me by now, but I think it was more after he died that I really wanted to…you know…"

"You wanted to kill yourself after your father couldn't hurt you anymore?" Stiles almost wanted to smack himself for asking more about it when Isaac seemed embarrassed, but he needed to understand.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I was alone," Isaac whispered. "I know what my father did was cruel, but he was still my dad, and I had lost my mom and brother long before that. So, my dad was all I really had left, and when he died, I was alone."

"Isaac…" Stiles began.

"Look I'm not telling you this to get your pity or something. I'm telling you this because I'm pretty sure you're in the same place I was back then, and I'm telling you not to do it. Please."

"Why not?"

"Because Stiles, you have people who care about you. The pack cares. Derek cares. Scott cares. I care."

Isaac was looking intently into his eyes now, pleading with his gaze for Stiles to listen to him.

"And I'm not saying that you should stay alive for us because you shouldn't. You should live for you. You've got to live for those moments where you really feel alive. And I know that might not really make sense, but I mean the moments where you can feel your blood coursing through your veins and the wind against your face and the sun on your skin. Live for that because I swear it's worth it. I can't let you go."

Stiles was gaping at him by that point. He'd never heard Isaac talk like that before. And he probably would've been even more shocked if Isaac said what he really wanted to. Isaac desperately wanted to tell Stiles he couldn't lose him because he loved him. But now wasn't the time for that. Now wasn't the time to throw his feelings at Stiles. He needed to do what was right for Stiles.

"I don't even know where to start anymore," Stiles confessed.

"The first step is just taking the breaths to stay. Just breathe. I'll be here." Isaac assured Stiles as he grabbed his hand and held it tight until Stiles was ready to go home.

"When the world is at your back, and your heart is at your feet...the best way to go on is to just "be"."

― Jennifer Megan Varnadore