Stiles sat in the bathroom with his guitar, which Giovanni had lovingly deemed his "star's dressing crapper" on Friday nights. Though Stiles wondered where the patrons of the coffee shop would go to relieve themselves, he'd accepted the gift graciously, grateful for somewhere to gather his nerves before singing. He looked at himself in the mirror, trying to calm his nerves. Jeremy had come to see him, and said that there were a lot more people than last time, probably because of the video's popularity. This was probably supposed to make Stiles happy and excited, but somehow the only thing that came out of him in response was vomit. How had he gotten into this mess? He just wanted to let off some steam and maybe make some money. He now had his fifty dollars, along with almost a million views on youtube.
Despite the video's popularity, Stiles was still convinced it was just a fluke. Jeremy had uploaded it without his knowledge, and now nearly a million people had seen him spill his most intimate feelings. Stiles managed to only be mildly upset with his uncle, largely because a lot of the comments on the video were very positive. The thought had crossed his mind that Scott may have seen the video. He'd almost dared to wish that Scott had seen it. But his life didn't seem to work out like that. In all likelihood, Scott would never see the video. And that was for the best; in fact, he hoped that nobody he knew would see the video. It hadn't even reached a million views. Videos go viral every day. This was hardly outrageous success by current standards. It was fairly dubious that anyone he knew would see him sing. And even if Scott did happen to see it, he probably wouldn't understand. He'd probably just be happy for Stiles. Because he was with Danny. He loved Danny. And only Danny.
He started going over the song in his head. He'd already known the lyrics by the time he'd picked the song, but he dedicated the entire week to learning them nonetheless. Uncle Jeremy had suggested that he sing something more painful, since it was hard for him to keep the hurt out of his voice while singing love songs. Immediately, one song popped into his head. On the way to Washington, he'd listened to the song several times. It seemed to sum up his current relationship with Scott perfectly. They'd had a good thing going, headed toward something better in Stiles' mind. However, Scott messed it all up by dating Danny. And he'd messed it all up himself by acting like a four-year-old who didn't get the toy that he wanted. Now, the illusion of his perfect world was shattered, along with the perfect future he'd been imagining. This song seemed to illustrate his exact situation.
"Hey," Giovanni said, popping his head in the door. He was older, but distinguished; every bit the type of person that would own a coffee shop. He had graying hair and an omnipresent maroon apron. His dignified appearance was often offset by his vulgar speech, however. "You feeling okay? I heard you started blowing chunks a while ago."
"I'm fine," Stiles said, weakly managing a half-assed smile. "I was just nervous."
"Alright, well that whiny bitch with the tambourine is almost done, and you're up after her," he said with a smile, ducking out of the bathroom.
Stiles inhaled deeply, standing up and looking in the mirror. He adjusted his t-shirt, smoothing out some wrinkles over his stomach. It's no big deal, he told himself. It's just a bunch of people at a frickin' coffee shop. It's hardly Madison Square Garden. Gathering his nerves, Stiles walked out of the bathroom.
The hippie girl with the tambourine smiled at him as they passed each other on his way to the stage. He picked up a stool and dragged it over to the little platform where he'd sung his heart out to Scott a week earlier. Adjusting the microphone, he tried to ignore the crowd, focusing only on Scott's face in front of him. If he could manage to pretend that he was singing only to Scott, then maybe he could get through the performance without puking.
Sitting on the stool, Stiles adjusted his fingers on his uncle's guitar. He was surprised that he could still remember how to play the guitar. He'd only had a few cursory run-ins with the instrument since he learned how to play it as a child. Apparently, it was like riding a bike: once you learned it, you never really forget. Still, he'd gotten a lot more practice in the past week than he had in the past few years.
Looking up at the crowd, Stiles froze. His uncle hadn't been exaggerating. The little coffee shop was filled far beyond fire-code regulations, so that every table, chair, couch, and inch of floor space was taken up by onlookers. Were they all there to see Stiles? That didn't make much sense. Why would they all come to see him? He figured that a large number of them were only there because they saw the video and thought it would be cool to see someone they saw on internet, or something like that. There was no way so many people would care about his singing.
Suddenly, he felt overwhelmed. The people seemed to close in around him, to stifle his breathing. He could handle the group of people who happened to be in Giovanni's coffee shop while he was singing; he could block them out. But this was too much. There were too many people, and they were all looking at him.
Stiles closed his eyes, trying to distance himself from all of the people in front of him. Staring at him. Watching him. Judging. He thought about performing for Scott, trying to let him know how much pain he was in. Don't ever stop singing. The words echoed through his mind. Don't waste your talent. Share it while you still can. He realized that she was right. His mother would never again share her many talents with the world. When she realized this, she'd tried to let her son know that he had to share his gift while he still could. Because she could never sing again, he would.
Stiles began strumming his guitar, his hands now moving almost automatically to where the were supposed to go. His excessive week of training kicked in, and he was calm, letting his instincts take over. However, he still couldn't bring himself to open his eyes.
"Where do you go with your broken heart in tow? And what do you do with the leftover you?" Stiles sang, imagining himself trying to explain how he felt to Scott. "And how do you know when to let go? Where does the good go? Where does the good go?"
As Stiles sang, he tried to picture how Scott's face would look. He tried to imagine a look of comprehension on the boy's face as he heard the words, understanding Stiles' frustrations. He managed to open his eyes, Scott's image fixed in his mind's eye. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't find me attractive. Look me in the heart and tell me you won't go," he sang, imagining Scott now understanding the fragile state Stiles was in. He imagined Scott would now understand why Stiles took so long to confess his feelings, and why he was so afraid of rejection.
"Look me in the eye and promise no love is like our love. Look me in the heart and unbreak broken, it won't happen," Stiles crooned, imagining Scott now understanding the weight of the situation. He imagined that the boy could finally accept that their relationship had changed forever, and it was up to him now how they would proceed. He held the power to make or break the perfect future Stiles had imagined. Even if it didn't go exactly as he'd foreseen in his head, Stiles would be just as happy to be with Scott. To have him in his life again, and even more than ever before.
"It's love that leaves and breaks the seal of always thinking you would be real, happy, healthy, strong, and calm. Where does the good go? Where does the good go?" Stiles sang, hearing what his mother called the "honey" in his voice. He imagined Scott now able to comprehend why Stiles left. He would know that the power that Scott held in determining their future together was scary now that it had become real. The fact that he'd been rejected by the one person in his entire life who had always been there, through his mom's death, through his struggles with his dad, through his problems in school, the fact that he'd been rejected by the one person that meant the most in his life was too much to bear. So he ran.
He imagined Scott's face breaking, his love for Stiles almost over powering. "Where do you go when you're in love and the world knows? How do you live so happily while I am sad and broken down?" Stiles sang bitterly. In his mind's eye, Scott now understood how Stiles felt, half way up the coast, alone and dejected. He'd confessed his love, and everyone he knew in Beacon Hills had seen it. There was no way he could stay, and now he was alone, imaging the love of his life living happily in the arms of another man.
As Stiles made his way to the end of the song, he imagined Scott realizing the incredible weight that they had on one another's lives. They were a consistent source of good in one another's lives. Even when Scott focused all of his time on Allison, Stiles stood by him, helping him through his wolfy problems. When Stiles needed help dealing with his dad, Scott was there for him. They'd stuck by one another throughout their entire lives, and had depended on one another to grow. He imagined that Scott would finally realize the great loss that came with Stiles leaving. Finally, Scott would resolve to set things right, bringing the boy back into his life, no matter what it took. "Where does the good go?" Stiles crooned softly, ending the song with a demure, sullen sort of pain, the kind that comes with accepting a heavy loss in one's life.
The crowd erupted into applause, and Stiles blushed, waiting for the image of Scott to go away like it did last time. However, something was wrong. Did he usually think of Scott with so much stubble? And was his hair always so unwashed in his memories? Did he somehow imagine Scott differently this time? The image of Scott started clapping, wiping tears away with his shoulder. Stiles continued to stare, confused. He looked around, and noticed the people standing around the figment of his imagination. Danny, Lydia, Derek, Peter, Jackson, and Isaac all stood around him. Why had he imagined them? He didn't particularly feel comfortable singing around them. Why had his mind conjured them up as well?
The images start to move, working their way through the applauding crowd to get closer to the stage. Suddenly, Stiles realized that these weren't figments of his imagination, under his control. As if they'd materialized from his subconscious, the pack had actually been at the performance. He hadn't been imagining Scott, but actually watching him.
Tears welled in his eyes as the pack reached the stage. "Stiles!" Scott cried out above the din of approval. He reached out a hand, meaning to help the boy off of the stage. Stiles' stomach dropped as he looked from one face to another. Everyone seemed to be slightly tearful, bedraggled, and proud. What were they doing here? How had they found him?
Stiles looked into Scott's brown eyes, noticing the tears. It dawned on him that Scott had actually undergone the process of understanding that Stiles imagined. Then he looked to Danny. Danny was there. Danny was there with Scott. Suddenly, the air in the room got stifling.
Turning away from the pack and Scott's outstretched hand, Stiles ran. Once again, he turned his back on the pack and ran away. He jumped off of the back of the platform and ran into the little bathroom. Seven pairs of eyes followed him, watching him once again as he ran away from them.
**The song in this chapter was Where Does the Good Go by Tegan and Sara**