Benji didn't like Stiles.
When Derek, Scott, and Deaton had described him, they had clearly left some stuff out.
First off, what the hell kind of name was "Stiles"? A stupid name, that's what, and yet it seemed to fit his new guardian so well it was weird. It was as if Benji couldn't imagine him without a different name, and he had only known him for maybe a half hour.
Secondly, and perhaps the most important reason why, was that Stiles was annoying.
He was overly sarcastic, to the point where it grated on Benji's nerves. He talked too loudly, moved too fast, and jumped topics so quickly it made Benji's mind ache from trying to understand Stiles' thought processes.
Benji wasn't sure how an overly hyper twenty eight year old managed to become sheriff, but he called shenanigans.
His fiancé, Lydia, was okay though. Though she was kind of weird, which had to have been a given for anyone who was engaged to that man, she was kind of funny. Best of all, she didn't push him to speak.
Not that he would've had the chance to, with how much Stiles was running his mouth.
Instead of taking Benji to the house, Derek had dropped him off at a local Italian restaurant, where he met Stiles and Lydia. He disliked this and would've preferred to stay with Derek, who didn't seem to actually care if he ate. But since he was at the restaurant and it would be weird if he didn't order anything, Benji ordered a simple house salad.
It was gross, but all food was gross, and this way It was gross, but all food was gross, and this way his new guardians wouldn't be upset at him for ordering a huge amount of food he wasn't going to eat.
"So, Benji, you like your salad?" Stiles asked, a drop of desperation mixing with his voice as he tried once again to engage with the fourteen year old. When Benji just grunted in reply, Stiles continued to talk, the silence making him anxious.
"Still don't understand why you only chose a salad. Healthy option, don't get me wrong, and probably the better option, but this spaghetti is to die for. The sauce is spectacular. We should come back sometime so you can try it. Or you can have some of mine now? Oh, I guess you wouldn't, since you've barely even touched the salad. Not hungry, eh? Should've considered that-" Lydia touched Stiles' arm and he sighed, stopping his word vomit.
Stiles, to be honest, didn't quite know what to do. Here in front of him was a small, too thin teen with too pale skin, messy black hair that hung in his dark brown eyes, and dark purple bags under his eyes. Benji reminded Stiles of himself, painfully so, but considerably more damaged.
From what he learned in the phone call with Deaton and Scott, Benji had been possessed by a nogitsune for over two months, and had been tormented by it for over a year. How the boy had survived, and how the boy still seemed somewhat sane, was beyond him. Stiles wanted to help him, he really did, but he recognized the guilt and the pain guarding Benji's eyes, turning the brown into an empty black. Did he even want help?
Stiles' eyes flickered to Benji's arms. He couldn't see the scars Scott had told him about through the black knit sweater, but the knowledge of what the kid had tried to do weighed heavily on his mind. The nogitsune had pushed this boy to the brink, and if it hadn't been for Scott, well.
This kid wouldn't be sitting in front of him right now.
"Stop staring," Benji snapped, feeling uncomfortable. "It's rude.'
"Oh! I'm so sorry-'
"I don't like you
The words slipped out of Benji's mouth as the exhaustion from the day suddenly hit him. A flicker of guilt danced in his stomach as a flash of hurt went across Stiles' face. But all of a sudden, it disappeared. He shouldn't have to pretend like he enjoyed his company, when in reality Stiles was way too much for him. He was tired, he wanted to sleep, and yet here he was, in a fucking restaurant, choking down pieces of lettuce while hearing some guy he had never met before attempt to make conversation.
"Huh?" Stiles blinked.
Benji laid down his fork. "I don't like you. I don't want to be here. And yet I am. I know I'm only here because Scott thinks I'm going to off myself the instant I'm alone. But guess what- I'm not going to, so you both can chill out. Here's my proposition: stay out of my life as much as possible, and I'll warn you if I feel the slightest urge to throw myself off the nearest building. Alright?"
Stiles sighed. Helping Benji wouldn't be easy.
And the kid definitely didn't want the help.