A steady current of tears slid down Stiles cheeks. He leaned over the sink and spat a glob of blood into the bowl. Stiles rinsed out his mouth and wiped his face. He leaned back and gave a shuttering sigh. This was the last symptom, the last tell-tale sign. First it was the headaches and tiredness. Stiles just kept telling himself that it was from all the werewolf and kanima business. That he was just being paranoid. That it wasn't happening, not again.
Then the constant ache in his joints and bones, like someone had taken a hammer to his insides. But who wouldn't be sore after being thrown into a tree/car/wall? Derek and Erica seemed to love shoving him into random hard places. The final hint was this. Stiles had to stop lying to himself. The bruises gained by a simple bump? The bleeding gums and weight loss?
Stiles shook his head and pulled on a fresh shirt before heading downstairs. His dad sat at the kitchen table reading the paper. He didn't need to leave early, no longer having a job to go to. Stiles winced. His dad was already having a tough time, but this? This could be the straw to break the camel's back.
"Dad? Can . . . can we talk?"
The former sheriff looked up at his son and noticed the serous expression on the younger man's face. John Stillinski put his paper down and waited patiently. Stiles shakily sat down, but couldn't sit still. He stood back up and started to pace.
"I . . . Dad."
Stiles stopped pacing and looked his father straight in the eyes.
"Dad, I'm sick again"
John's expression grew serious and he stood up and gently grabbed Stiles by his shoulders. In this house, there were two kinds of 'sick'. There was sick, like the common flu, and then there was Sick.
"Stiles"
John swallowed.
"Genim, are you sure?"
Tears started to leak from his eyes as he nodded.
"I've got them all. Headaches, always tired, sore joints and bones! I-I've lost a lot of weight and this morning my gums started to bleed. And . . . and look!"
By now Stiles was sobbing as he pulled up his shirt to reveal a large bruise on his side. It was the size of two fists and was an ugly display of purple, green, and yellow.
John pulled his son into a warm hug, and Stiles clung to his shoulders as he cried. Normally, he would have been dead embarrassed, but he was too scared. He had been in remission for almost five years. They thought he had beaten it for good, but they were all wrong.
Genim 'Stiles' Stillinski's cancer had come back.