Ever since Stiles was young, he'd never been one to sit still. His parents were always telling him to be quiet, to stop fidgeting. So when he was finally diagnosed with ADHD at the age of 8, it's safe to say no one was surprised. He wasn't particularly hiding his disorder, but finding people who can handle the burst of energy that is Stiles was difficult. Especially when you're in a class filled with driven, concentrated individuals. Stiles' teachers never expected him to get an A in his classes, so when he hit straight A's more often than not, they had no choice but to move him into the highest achieving classes the school had to offer. His teacher at the time, Mrs Rogers, was not the type to go easy on him. In fact, she even went so far as to create a whole day after school, just to make Stiles do detentions. He was at school until 6:00pm on these days. This was one of many reasons Stiles hates Tuesdays.

At the end of a rather boring Tuesday, Stiles headed to his regular detention slot to find Mrs Rogers, the usually stone-faced woman, sat at her desk, staring into his eyes with such sympathy that it scared Stiles. When she got up and placed a compassionate hand on his shoulder, he was pretty certain he was going to explode. "Stiles sweetie, your dad is going to pick you up early today" And that was enough to make him shiver with unease.

As promised, Stiles' father was waiting at the front desk. He locked eyes with his son, and Stiles knew from the puffiness of his eyes and his drooping brows that his father had been crying. "Dad? What's going on?" his voice was no more than a whisper. The sheriff took his pale boy's hand in his and led him to the police cruiser he came in without another word.

When they were sat comfortably in the car, the sheriff finally spoke, "It's mom. Stiles.. Mom's gone" and at that word, he broke down.

Stiles shook his head, tears falling onto his shaking hands. "What happened?" Stiles asked, his voice filled with despair.

"She was hit by a car Stiles, I'm sorry… Oh god, I'm sorry kiddo". Stiles was in his dad's arms in half a second, sobbing at the loss of the most important woman in his life. His dad held him back closely, wiping his own tears.

Stiles didn't go back to school straight away. After a few weeks, the sheriff finally persuaded him to go in for half a day at least. It was only half an hour into the day when John's phone lit up with the school's caller ID. The school nurse was on the other end of the phone, speaking in slow, soft words that made John want to crush the phone in his hands. The nurse informed him that Stiles had had a panic attack, and that she thought it would be best for him to return home.

When the sheriff went to pick up his boy, he found him so unusually silent, tears dripping from his eyes viciously, dropping onto the tiled floor in tiny splashes. This wasn't the last time it would happen, as the sheriff found out over the next couple of months, feeling helpless as he held his son, unable to do anything except comfort him as he grasped at his chest, sobbing and breathing in small gasps.

John never thought he'd get his little boy back the way he used to be.

It was 6 months after that call that Stiles sauntered in from school, wearing the first real smile the sheriff had seen on his son since that despicable Tuesday. "Someone's had a good day" John said, scooping his son up in his arms and kissing his short hair.

"I made a friend, dad!" Stiles beamed, squirming in his dads arms until he was nearly dropped. His dad was shocked to see that same energy from months ago beginning to return. Stiles talked non stop over the next hour, telling him every single detail about his new best friend in the world, and by the end of it, John could picture him. Stiles and his wonky-jawed friend, sitting together and being kids.

"Slow down, kiddo! It's lovely to know what colour his mom's hair is and all, but you haven't even told me his name yet!" the sheriff chuckled quietly.

"Oh yeah, his name's Scott. Scott McCall"