Thanks for Reading! This is only my second fanfic and it is my first TW fanfic. Stiles is the main character, but I'm not exactly sure if or when I make it "Romance" who it will be with. Maybe Sterek, but I have no clue. I have a way it could be, but I might want it to be with someone else by the time I get there. Anyway, thanks for reading!
It hurt. He was a little surprised, but he saw something like this coming eventually. No, what he was mainly feeling was a deep sense of pain and loneliness. He understood this was going to happen at some point, he was the token human. Stiles' only offering to the pack had been his researching abilities, but now that Danny had come with Jackson, and Allison's family's hesitant peace offering of their Bestiary's information was available, Stiles had felt unwanted, ignored, and out-of-place for a while. It had been a few months since any trouble had stirred the Beacon Hills pot, and the pack seemed to realize, if not consciously, then subconsciously, that Stiles wasn't needed in their little group of awesomeness. He was the nerdy, weak, and clumsy 17 year-old trying to fit in with a group of graceful models in leather, high heels, and claws. He understood. He really did, but that didn't dull the sharp stab of pain he felt in his gut when he realized his prediction had actually, finally come true. That he had no time left in his hourglass-of-usefulness to give him the ability to fit into the already fully-filled space of their supernatural jigsaw puzzle. The puzzle was complete, and he was the little piece left over from a completely different puzzle. He wasn't even supposed to be in the box, but he was allowed the brief excitement of waiting for his piece to be chosen, even though he knew his shading was a little wrong, too dark for the picture waiting to be completed. Yes, he knew this was inevitable, but he had hoped he would get just a little more time, just a little more of that sense that maybe if he tried to fit into the group just a little harder, he could lodge his diamond block into the square-shaped hole. He knew, though he wished he didn't, that he couldn't have tried harder than he had and that he would never have fit, even if he could fit his shape in the box, he would stick instead of falling in and he would feel the gaping holes and chilling breeze all around him while he hung, suspended in the air, looking down at all the other shaped blocks. He knew all of this, and he saw it flash in front of his mind when he realized he had reached the end of his rope. It hurt, but he also knew it would hurt worse if he didn't accept it. So he accepted it.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
Stiles stopped coming to the pack meetings. The first time he missed the meeting, his father had gotten shot in a convenience store robbery on Main St.. When Stiles received the call from one of the deputies, five minutes before he was going to start towards the newly rebuilt Hale house, Stiles had just enough mind to text Scott that he wasn't going to make it, just before jumping into his jeep and racing towards the hospital. Stiles didn't expect a response to his text and he didn't receive one. The message, "Sorry! Can't come!" was the first and only text sent between the two phones for two months, just after a three month period of short, small worded messages like, "Bring Pizza,", "Can't make it,", and "Xbox needs rain check." Nobody texted Stiles on his way to the hospital, but that could mean anything, Stiles thought absently. When Stiles reached the hospital and found his father exhaling a huge sigh as Melissa McCall dabbed a cotton ball on a small flesh wound that needed a maximum of five and a minimum of two stitches, he nearly collapsed with relief.
"Dad, is that it? Are you ok? Are you hurt anywhere else?!" Stiles said, rapid fire.
"I'm fine, kid. Just a scrape. How did you get here?" Sheriff Stilinski asked with a raised eyebrow aimed for his winded son.
"I drove. Deputy Parrish called to tell me you were at the hospital," Stiles said.
"Well I'm fine, son," Said the Sheriff, "As soon as Mel gets finished with my stitches, we can go home and order a pizza."
"You mean salad right?" Stiles said jokingly with a stern finger pointed at his father and a hand on his hip.
"No, I meant pizza, one night of pizza won't kill us," sighed Stiles' father.
"I'm only allowing this because you were shot and I need comfort food for the time I worried while getting here," said Stiles after a moment of pretending to think it over. Melissa just smiled at the duo and shook her head. Once done, she patted the Sheriff on the shoulder and told him to take it easy.
"Sorry I have to rush off, tonight's a little busy. I see you two later!" Melissa said with a smile.
"Okay Mama McCall, see you!" replied Stiles as he led his dad to the front desk to check out of the hospital, already thinking about the veggie pizza he was going to order for him and his dad. Maybe I can order pepperoni on there too, as a treat.
When the Sheriff and his son came home with their dinner in hand, they headed straight to the couch and turned on the TV to watch a movie. Stiles didn't think about the pack meeting too much, trying to enjoy his time with his father, but he did think about it. Just before bed, he made a mental note to check with Scott on what happened during the pack meeting when he sees him at school tomorrow.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
Waking up in the morning is never Stiles' strong suit. Stiles reached across his bed towards his charging phone to turn off the alarm he had set. After turning off the shrill alarm, Stiles rolled onto his back and tried to blink his eyes enough for them to remain open while smacking his lips. He laid there for a few minutes before rolling off the bed and catching himself on his hands.
"Don't 'cha just love mornings!" Stiles muttered sleepily on the way to the bathroom.
Stiles made his way downstairs after finishing his shower and retrieving his backpack and phone from his room to get some food. He buttered some toast and grabbed a bottle of water before heading out to his jeep and driving off towards school.
He pulled into his normal parking spot close to the exit of the parking lot, having learned in the last few months that there was no point in parking near the doors to the school. He grabbed his backpack from the passenger's seat and climbed out of his jeep, locking the doors on his way out.
Walking toward the front doors to Beacon Hills High School, Stiles almost started to look for Scott in the crowd, but he stopped himself and sighed quietly. The lack of texting wasn't the only lag in communication between the best friends. Stiles shook his head and walked through the doors. Stiles walked towards his locker to grab the books he needed for his classes before lunch and switch out the ones he had in his backpack.
Stiles walked through the halls and entered his first class of the day. Economics was a class that nearly everyone enjoyed, solely for the fact that Coach Finstock taught the class and was hilarious. Finstock might be a little crazy when it comes to lacrosse, but he could be pretty hilarious with how he acts any other time. Stiles walked to the back of the room to his usual seat. It was only a few minutes until Scott, Allison, and Danny entered into the room, Scott's arm around Allison's waist. Scott split from the others and headed towards his seat in front of Stiles, grinning at Allison while she took her seat across the class with Danny two seats behind her and already pulling his phone from his back pocket. Without even a glance towards Stiles, Scott sat in his seat already typing away at his phone.
"Hey man, what happened at the pack meeting last night?" asked Stiles.
"Uh, not now Stiles, ask Lydia," replied Scott absentmindedly without looking up from his phone.
Stiles fell back into his seat lightly, feeling like he was slapped. He could physically feel the sting on his body, but instead of feeling it on his face, the sensation came from a place near his ribs. It wasn't at all odd for Scott to blow off Stiles, or ignore him even, but it had never seemed so much like a reflex, so abrupt and harsh, as it did then. Stiles sat there, mouth slightly parted from hurt and partial surprise. Then, he closed his face off and looked down at his desk to wait for the coach to begin the day's lesson.
Scott didn't try to speak to Stiles through Economics and continued into Chemistry. Chemistry had become pretty boring, worse through the last few months. Harris had kept his eyes on both Scott and Stiles through the first month of near radio-silence, trying to find a reason to assign detention. Even Harris gave up on the pair, claiming new, unsuspecting victims in their class. The two female best friends, near the window, had never been as quiet as they tried to be in Harris' class to stop the constant stream of detentions.
Stiles resigned his self to waiting for lunch, hoping someone would tell him what happened. Did they do another perimeter sweep? Did anyone mention those charms-o-protection he found in one of the Argent's books? Thought after thought ran through Stiles' mind while he waited for Chemistry to end. Half a second before the bell rang Scott bounced up and walked through the door. Stiles waited a moment while he gathered his things to put in his locker on the way to lunch and walked through the door into the hallway as well.
After stopping off at his locker, Stiles walked into the Cafeteria and joined the food queue, waiting for his lunch. He grabbed his tray and stood to pay for his food. It was during the moment of him receiving his change that Stiles looked up towards the "Pack Table," as they claimed it.
The table looked crowded, but comfortable. Looking at each of the faces he could see, Stiles noticed something about the picture they all made. The picture was full, and there wasn't any room for him left in the frame. He had squished into the group before, but he hadn't thought too much about it. Stiles paused in his walking and during that half-second pause, he realized something. His time belonging to the pack was officially over. It made him gasp silently and avert his eyes. He couldn't squeeze in anymore. It wasn't possible because it wasn't the same. He understood how this happened of course, but the pain didn't lessen. The pain could only increase. Stiles looked to his lunch and decided to leave the room, taking an apple and a cup of yogurt from the tray before tossing away the hard, cold, suspicious foods that were left. Stiles left the cafeteria.
Stiles walked from the cafeteria towards the lacrosse field and sat on the bleachers. After he ate what he had brought, Stiles sat there and waited for the bell to signal the end of lunch. While he sat there, the lack of inquiring texts from anyone pushed the thought of it being the end home. When the bell rang, Stiles continued on to his classes and quietly sat through them. When the last class finally let out, Stiles walked to his jeep and was the first student out of the parking lot.
When Stiles entered his home, he lightly tossed his backpack onto the floor next to the coffee table and sat down to do his homework on autopilot. As soon as the last Chemistry equation was balanced, Stiles packed his things to leave by the door and walked up the stairs. He got ready for bed without noticing and fell onto his bed. Within seconds, Stiles was asleep.
But not before thinking, "Everything is going to be different now, everything is going to change. It was time for things to change. Yeah, it was about time…."