As soon as the bell rang, Theo was speed-walking out of his last block class to wait for Stiles. He followed the flow of students through the school and out to the parking lot where the jeep sat untouched with no sign of Stiles of in sight. Frowning, he turned back to the entrance of the school to see the last stragglers exiting.
Amongst them, he could see Stiles. The dark circles under his eyes seemed larger, if possible, and he seemed to be dragging himself forward with the last of his energy. He subconsciously ran a hand through his hair and sighed when he saw that Theo was waiting for him.
"Stiles," Theo started as he moved forward. He felt the urge to just embrace Stiles, show him that he wasn't alone in whatever he was dealing with, but he also didn't want to come off as too pushy although it might be too late for that.
"I'm not giving you a ride home if that's what you want," Stiles said.
"It looks like I should be giving you the ride home, Stiles. You look exhausted," Theo said. However exhausted he was, Theo could still appreciate Stiles' appealing body.
"Don't patronize me," Stiles spat. He reached for the door of his jeep but Theo grabbed his arm, significantly more gently this time.
"I'm not patronizing you. I'm concerned," Theo said gently. He removed his hand from Stiles' arm and opened the door for him, gesturing for him to step inside."I just want to help you, Stiles. I care ab-"
"You can help me by getting out of my buisness," Stiles spat as he stepped into his car and turned the key in the ignition. "It's better if you just leave this alone,"
All Theo could do was watch with a pained expression as Stiles pulled out away from him.
Stiles' heart was beating out of his chest as he drove out of the BHHS parking lot. Theo knew something was up and if he found out that his father was the one who hurt him, child services would take him away because he technically still wasn't an adult. Although, it felt surprisingly good that at least somebody cared about him, even it was Theo Raeken.
Theo had only told him truths where Scott lied to him. Theo held a sustained trust in Stiles, through thick and thin. Theo wanted Stiles in his old pack for who he was, and was willing to fight for him. The more he thought of it, Theo had been a better friend that Scott lately, and he was much better looking.
Stiles mentally kicked himself for thinking the last part.
He continued down the side road ahead of him, ignoring the black spots dancing across his vision from the lack of sleep he had received over the past several days.
He attempted to stop his hands from shaking and his eyelids from drooping but he couldn't resist his bodies exhaustion. He pulled over on the side of the road and reclined his seat, immediately feeling more relaxed. His jeep's clock read 3:24 PM and he had to cook dinner for his father by 6, so he figured he had more than enough time to collect himself.
He laid his head back against his seat and sighed in pleasure and relief, as sleep unexpectedly overcame him.
Stiles was startled awake as a car roared by on the road beside him. He groggily moved his seat back into position and then looked at the clock in horror.
8:30 PM.
He moved his key to the ignition, missing twice before he got it in, and then slammed his foot on the gas frantically. He bit down on his lip in frustration, hoping, praying, that his father didn't start drinking yet.
The sheriff would probably be outraged by the fact that Stiles didn't even bother to come home to cook dinner, or check in for that matter.
He slipped his phone out of his pocket as he pulled into his driveway and looked at the seven missed calls in panic. One from Theo, One from his dad, and there was one text: "Get you ass home now."
Stiles sprinted from his car, slamming his door closed, and raced to his house. His dad stood from the kitchen table as Stiles raced through the door and glared menacingly. He had been sitting at the table with a microwave meal and two bottles of bourbon, One completely empty and the other half full.
"Where have you been?" The Sheriff asked with a dangerous tone. He walked close enough to Stiles that he could smell the alcohol on his breath and see the anger in his eyes.
"I- I-" Stiles started.
"I told you Stiles, I told you 6 PM! That is when I expected to dinner to be on the table!" His father yelled, Spit flying from his mouth.
"It won't happen aga-" Stiles began, dejectedly.
"It better not happen again!" The Sheriff shouted, poking Stiles' chest aggressively with each word. "You can't just expect me to do everything around here!"
It took all of Stiles' will to hold back the snarky comments that threatened to escape his mouth. He knew that it would feel great to snap at his father, tell him that he hasn't done anything since losing his job, but it wouldn't do any good. His father wouldn't remember it in the morning, or whatever time he would wake up.
He remained completely still as his father made his way back to the kitchen table where he poured himself another glass of bourbon, and gave Stiles a threatening look.
Stiles got the idea and made his way up to his room where he locked his door, a safety measure that he had just recently picked up, and collapsed onto his bed.
He didn't know how long it would be until he got hurt again, but he knew that if his father had consumed more alcohol it wouldn't have just stopped at the verbal abuse and poking tonight. He knew that if things continued, One day he would be going to school in a cast rather than just covered in bruises.
Maybe he did need to tell someone.