Stiles was drunk. And not the good, fun, happy go lucky kind of drunk. He was nasty, nearly falling over, world spinning kind of drunk. All in thanks to his so called friends. They were really at fault here. The poor choices leading up to the night had been a culmination of two months' worth of fuckery. Now, it had come to a head. He was just riding the wave. And right now the wave was telling him to sit down and take it easy. He opted for taking a long pull from the bottle of whiskey instead. It burned just like all the other times he had done it that night. Still tasted terrible. But he kept on drinking. It was a shitty day after all.
He had woken up that morning, happier than in recent memory. It was going to be a good day. Stiles could feel it. His father was down in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. There was a spread of bacon, pancakes, and hash browns. His dad even went so far as to make the both of them an omelet. It was, of course, a welcome surprise to start off the day. They rarely got to spend mornings together anymore. With him being the sheriff, the hours were long and the gratitude low. Most days, he came home exhausted and barely conscious. Stiles understood of course. But today was his birthday. And his father had taken the time to make sure they would spend at least part of it together. It made the pancakes taste all the better.
They talked of what they might do for the evening, after he got home from school. Stiles didn't want to make any concreate plans. Just in case that one of the others might have something in mind. If that was the case, then he'd gladly invite his dad to come with them. But only time would tell. He opted to text the others and find out. But first, he was going to enjoy this breakfast for all it was worth. He wasn't like to have this much time with his dad in the morning for a while.
The drive to school was a good one. He caught every green light, never got stuck in traffic. Anything like that. Once he got there, Isaac bounded up, squeezing him in a tight hug. As he had taken to as of late, the other boy rubbed his face over Stiles chest. It was a weird way to say hello. If there ever was one. Erica wasn't far behind. Stiles could tell by the clicking of her heels. He grabbed him from the back, her arms like boa constrictors. There was a few moments where Stiles thought he wasn't going to be able to breathe. She laughed at his suffering. With Erica came Boyd, and his own manner of affection. It had evolved from a pat on the back to a sort of awkward half hug. Almost as if he was scared to be affectionate with a member of the same gender. Well, with Stiles anyway. Boyd was plenty touch feely with Isaac.
Cora was the real surprise. She actually said hello, with a real smile and everything. That's what threw Stiles off. She was amicable towards him. But in a distant sort of way. Not really giving him much attention, but not really ignoring him either. They day was leaning towards the strange. If in a good way. Scott was the last. He came up after walking away from Allison. The two of them had just got done talking. Properly talking for the first time in over a week. The both of them seemed level headed and calm. She wasn't crying. And Scott wasn't struggling to breathe. He greeted him with a quick hello and hug. As if everything was okay. So Stiles counted it was a win.
When the first bell rang, they all went off to their respective classes, knowing they'd see each other at lunch. It was rushed and a little odd that they separated so quickly. And not one of them had acknowledged that it was his birthday. Eh, it was fine. There was enough time in the day for it. There would be plenty more moments for them to have after school.
The day progressed quickly, every class seemingly ending just as it started. Stiles was thankful for it. When lunch rolled around, they met up at their usual table. There was a lot of chatter. About everything and nothing. Isaac seemed to be in a particularly good mood. He actually engaged in conversation rather than just idling in the background. Erica sat atop Boyd's lap, grinning wickedly. She was in as good a mood as Isaac was. Scott, decidedly less than.
Ever since the conversation with Allison earlier that morning, he had been tense and on the edge of something. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. Stiles tried to be diffuse the tension in his friend with his usual brand of humor. It was mildly successful. He seemed to respond better to Isaac than anyone else. Which was odd. But Stiles didn't look too much into it. It was his birthday and he was happy. And he was bound and determined to keep it that way. Even if Scott was being a bit of a sourpuss. The rest of them weren't down and out, so he certainly wasn't going to be.
When lunch ended, they went back to class, still giddy and laughing. In all the comradery, no one had wished him a happy birthday. Maybe they were planning a surprise party? That seems like something Erica would pull. Throwing together a last minute get together. Full of streamers and glitter and balloons. That cheesy, almost cliché party nonsense that didn't really have a place to begin with. Really? Because nothing says happy birthday like a plastic sack of someone's breath. Multiple plastic sacks of breath just bouncing around. The image was rather comical. Stiles laughed to himself as he went into the final class of the day.
It was Harris. The man was normally a raging cock nozzle, but today was different. Ever since Stiles presented the recorded conversation, his chemistry teacher was surprisingly mellow. And not just towards him. Towards the rest of the class as well. It seems a lesson in humility had served him well. The equations for the experiment were still hard to decipher. But Stiles loved a challenge. It wouldn't have been fun if it was easy. Lydia just smiled at him as only they would really grasp the material.
Towards the end of class, he felt his phone buzz, alerting him to a text message. It was from Lydia. She was telling him happy birthday, seeing as she wasn't going to be able to see him after school. Her father was in town and apparently wanted to reconcile. Stiles understood. He text her back saying the compulsory thank you. Several minutes later, he got a text from Danny wishing him happy birthday. As well as the offer to use his fake ID to score him some booze should he need it. He replied to keep the offer open. There was no telling where the night was gonna go. The last one was from Jackson of all people. He made it abundantly clear that the only reason he was texting him was because Lydia told him to. It was still a surprise. Stiles responded by calling him a jackass and saying thank you.
When the final bell rang, Stiles sprang from his seat, ready to see what his friends had in store for him. Maybe there was going to be a surprise party after all. When he got outside to the parking lot, those hopes were dashed in their entirety. Isaac was getting into Cora's car. Erica and Boyd as well. Scott was on his bike, geared up to follow them. They were heading towards the Hale house. That was the only possibility. There was no way in hell Laura was going to allow a bunch of teenagers to throw a party at her place. She might have been a laid back person, sweet and kind of funny. But she was still an adult with a family. They had forgotten. They had forgotten his birthday. Hadn't even acknowledged it.
It was then and there that Stiles felt something wither and shrivel away inside of him. It was a long standing process, starting when his friends created distance between him. He could actually feel it. The way part of him just turned into nothingness, leaving a hollow place behind. It was the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak. He didn't cry. He didn't scream. He just got in the Jeep and headed home. There wasn't much else he could do. There wasn't much else he wanted to do. The people who were supposed to care about him didn't. And that hurt. It hurt more than it had the right to. But that was life. It didn't pick and choose who got mowed down. Things were seemingly fair that way.
The house was empty when he got there. It didn't make him feel better. There was particular brand of loneliness that he felt himself saddled with. An all-consuming weight that bared down on his shoulders. Smothering the very essence of him. For a day that was supposed to be for him, it wasn't. Not in a good way at least. His friends were no longer his friends. They had, one by one, chosen themselves over him. And on the day of his 18th birthday of all days. At least his dad had remembered. At least they were going to be able to spend some time together. That's what Stiles thought anyway.
When he got the call, he knew it was nothing good. His father never called him from work. It was as he expected. There was a string of suspicious animal deaths just outside of Beacon Hills. And people were panicking. He was going to be working late. When the dial tone clicked out, so did Stiles. He wasn't even going to bother being upset. There was no point in it. Wasted energy on people who had forgotten about him. Except, being the masochist he was, he decided to text all of them asking what they were doing. The responses were all lies.
Isaac said he was hanging out with Scott, going over lacrosse drills. Which he wasn't. They did drills every practice to the point of mania. No way he was reviewing them outside of practice. Scott said he was working at the clinic. Which, he wasn't. He always had Tuesdays off. Erica and Boyd said they were on a date. Dinner and then a movie. Which, again, they weren't. Stiles didn't know what else he had expected. The lot of them had become rather adept at lying. About where they were. About what they were doing. Keeping Stiles in the dark all the way. It was special kind of hurt. One that happened rarely. But when it did, it sliced down past bone and straight into the soul. Leaving a mark that would never really go away. It was the second time that Stiles had felt it in his life. It hurt just as much as the last time.
He decided to take Danny up on his offer, asking him to get a bottle of something cheap and strong. When he got the confirmation, he headed over and picked it up. This was something he had every right to. Something that he had earned. Stiles stared down the brown paper bag and made a choice. It was last second and rushed, but he was going to the Hale house to confront his so called friends. He was going to make them answer for their lies.
He did his best to keep under the speed limit. The last thing that he needed was to be pulled over with a bottle of whiskey in his front seat. His dad wasn't going to be anywhere near happy with him when he found out. He was already planning to get drunk. Might as well keep the damage minimal. When he got to the house, Cora's car and Scott's bike was there. Just as he expected. He didn't even bother knocking. He just launched himself inside, straight towards the living room. They were all there, huddled on the couch, watching a movie. Their faces said it all. They had been caught in the lie. Stiles didn't care that he was intruding. Didn't care that he was invading someone's house. He was too pissed off to care. He was too pissed to apologize.
"Happy birthday to me." he said without meaning to. The lot of them reacted exactly the same. Their faces went pale, eyes blowing wide. Isaac actually whimpered a bit. The four of them stood, saying nothing. There wasn't anything that needed to be said. They had forgotten. And they had lied about what they were doing. Finding some excuse not to be around him. That was the truth of it. And Stiles accepted it. Erica moved to say something. Probably some generic, half ass apology meant to quell his anger. He cut her off before she could say anything.
"Fuck all of you." With that, he left. He tore out of the drive, away from the lies and heartache. Shifting the gears, he drove deeper into the preserve. The part that was forbidden to the public. But he didn't care. He didn't want to be found. He didn't want anyone near him. Stiles was already alone. Might as well enjoy it. After the Jeep was parked in a remote spot, he got out and popped the cap on the whiskey. The first taste was always the worst. Bitter and pungent on the front. Sour as hell on the end. It was foul and in no way pleasant. But it was strong and would do the job. He felt the burn in his stomach just as the first text message came through.
It was Isaac. Asking for him to come back. So that they could explain. Erica sent a similar text. Saying Catwoman needed her Batman. Scott just said he needed him. Boyd didn't say anything. Apparently, Stiles wasn't worthy of a text. He shut off his phone and went back to drinking. The first two hours were fuzzy and warm. A delightful haze of abandon that Stiles let himself fall into. Surely, drinking more would help. Turns out, it didn't. It coiled down in his belly, broiling and writhing. He felt sick. Anger burned at the back of his skull as the world became a distant and far off thing. He just kept drinking.
Before he knew it, the sun had set. The stars were out and the night was brisk. A good thing too. Apparently, whiskey made you sweat a lot. He was about three quarters of the way done when shit really hit the fan. Every last ounce that he had shoved away came crashing through. All the hurt form his friends lies. All the anger from him finding out. All the insecurities he had from never being good enough for anyone. It was too much. He launched the bottle way, propelling it into a tree. It shattered in a shower of glass and wasted alcohol. Probably for the best. He was pretty drunk. Drunk enough to cry anyway.
It wasn't loud or grotesque. It was quiet and subdued. There was no bodily shaking. There was no snot running down his face. They were just simple tears, coming of their own accord. It was of course that time when someone decided to show up. Or rather, several someones. It was Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Scott. The four of them there, breathing heavy and visibly distressed. As if they had any right to be. As if they were somehow upset. It was a farce and an obvious one at that. Stiles wasn't going to fall for it. They of course remarked on how he was drunk. And why he was out here. Why he was doing this. Stiles' answer was simple and straight forward.
"Cause, errbody forgess me." he managed to slur. But it was no less true. His mother had forgotten him after the dementia took her. She actually forgot her own son. Worse still, she actually thought he was a demon sent from hell to kill her. Despite being only ten years old the time. She screamed horrible things at him. Things that no child should have to hear from their mother. His dad was no different. After they buried her, he spent most of his nights, buried in a bottle. Drinking away his pain. Just like Stiles was doing. On the good nights, he would just pass out at the table. On the bad ones, he would let Stiles know just how much he wasn't loved. That he was the reason his mother died. That his dad didn't want anything to do with him. And it was a recurring trend.
Scott forgot him all too easily when he got popular. When he got a pretty girlfriend. He left Stiles behind without a second thought given. Erica forget him when she found Boyd. He wasn't really mad at Boyd. They didn't know each other that well anyway. But Isaac forgetting him. That hurt. He tried his best to be a good friend. To be there when he felt he was needed. But apparently, no on needed him. Not anymore. Once they were through with him, once they got what they needed, people dropped Stiles off at the back of their mind. Never paying him so much as a spare thought. It was heartbreaking to think about. Even more so to say it aloud. Which he had.
The four of them were crying. Actual real life tears. Stiles didn't understand why. They weren't the ones being left in the dust. Tossed aside when they had no more use. There was no reason for them to cry. They hadn't earned it like he had. He was just about to comment on it when he lost his balance. Falling over into the damp ground. There was a sharp pain that shot up his hand and arms. Twigs cutting into his skin. The alcohol numbed most of it out. Besides, there was a lot worse pain the world. He was experiencing some of it now.
Scott and Isaac were by his side, frantic and on the verge of a panic. Their faces were funny looking. The brow all furrowed and lumpy looking. Hairy cheeks and something was wrong with their eyes. A bright, shining yellow. It stood out in the dark night air. Huh, things were getting weird again. He heard someone screaming into a phone, and another person rushing up from behind. The world span around and around. Along with his stomach. He turned just in time to vomit before someone called his name. Stiles didn't answer. He was too busy passing out cold.