Jackson blamed the letter.
Fifteen years of being best friends and Danny went and gave it up for a scholarship to some school in the middle of a cornfield in Iowa.
Traitor.
No one had talked about what they were going to do in the future. There were no plans. They just knew they had to stay together, stay in Beacon Hills, stay where they were safe.
But Danny had messed that up.
Now it was "Where are we going to live in ten years? Here?"
"What if someone gets married?"
"What about kids?"
They were teenagers, how were they supposed to know what was right? Why couldn't it just stay the way it was? Scott and Allison didn't try to move away when she started to show. They came closer.
There were arguments and fights every day. Lydia wanted to go to school now. Alison was talking about an apartment. Derek had gone quiet just when they needed him to be their voice. What was he supposed to do? The Hales had never asked questions. It was Pack first, Pack always.
Scott and Stiles knew what to do, though.
They had twenty different options, a half a dozen apartments and houses for rent, state parks, the cost of living index.
It was just what they needed. It was a plan, ridiculous, but it was what they'd all wanted someone to say. "Stay with us. Don't leave me on my own."
So they packed and put down the money for the first six months. Danny came by to say goodbye and stared in confusion as he saw boxes being loaded into the truck and bags stacked in cars.
Jackson came down from the porch with a blank face.
"Finally here, huh? Too ashamed to come by? Or just afraid we'd all be pissed?"
Danny's hands dug into his pockets. "Maybe. What's going on?"
Jackson quirked a brow, his voice casually detached. "Moving. To Iowa."
Danny's eyes went wide and Jackson smirked. Shoving the box into his friend's closet, he muttered, "Hope you college boys can read. It says 'fragile.'"