I turn on the shower as hot as it will go. It practically burns my skin, but I ignore it. Scrubbing away until my entire body is red, and then some.

I curl into a ball on Derek's couch and stare ahead at nothing, until he turns on the TV we all convinced him to get. He flips through the channels and stops on the MLB network. The game is just beginning, Mets VS Astros.

I let out a content sigh and move into a more comfortable position on the couch while Derek leaves to make us some coffee.

It starts to rain, and for a moment things don't feel so messed up.

Rain always makes me feel safe and cozy. When you're indoors, it feels like a shield, makes any space seem like a safe little hut away from the world.

I wouldn't mind if it rained forever. I'd stay in Derek's loft where nothing could hurt me, I would read every book he owns and maybe he'd tell me stories of his past, and I'd tell him stories of mine.

We wouldn't talk much, but the pitter-patter of the rain would break the silence, and make things feel whole.

Derek hands me a mug of coffee and I smile at him, taking a sip.

"Do you-uh- do you mind if I crash on your couch tonight?"

He must hear my heartbeat stammering out of my chest when I ask him, terrified he'll get weirded out by me.

"Uh yeah, sure. Why?"

"Well, my dad is working the night shift," my dad had worked the night shift other times since New Years, and I had been okay, but this time, "and usually I'm okay when he has a night shift. But tonight…. I- I don't think I'm in the right mind set…"

I trail off and Derek glances out the window.

"That sounds… will you be alright tonight?"

I nod, "yeah, I'll be okay if I'm here. I-I just don't think I should be alone."

"Is it just your fear of being alone or something more?"

"I'm afraid if I'm left alone tonight, I'll do … something I'll regret."

Derek eyes widen at my implication and he scoots a little closer to me, but still leaves a gap between us.

"Well, you're pack. You're always welcome here. Especially now, when you seem to really need it."

I smile at him and he gets up to head to the kitchen and start on dinner, and I find myself following him.

"Mind if I help?" I ask timidly as he raids the fridge.

"Sure, but uh-" he pulls a cabbage, some onions, and a tomato and from the fridge before shutting it and opening the freezer, "I might have to run to the store, or order something."

He rummages through the pantry before pulling out a box of rice and a pack of egg noodles.

I give him a confused look and put the rice back in the pantry, before opening his fridge, which wow, it's practically empty, and pulling out some butter, and returning the tomato.

I pre-heat the oven and turn to a very confused Derek.

"Where do you keep pots?"

He rummages in a cabinet under the stove and pulls out a cheap looking metal pot.

"Start boiling some water, I'll chop the vegetables."

"Um, Stiles, what are you making?"

"Haluski." I tell him, as if it's obvious, because to me it is.

Derek gives me a confused look and I elaborate, "It' just noodled and cabbage. It's Polish."

"I didn't know you were in tune with Polish Cuisine," he tells me, as he turns on the sink and lets water pour into the pot.

"My mother was from Poland." I tell him and he doesn't say anything after that.

I teach him how to make haluski, and we end up with a full pan, so theirs leftovers. We sit on the couch to eat and we're about halfway through with our meal when Isaac walks in. He follows his nose straight to the kitchen.

"What is this?" He shouts, and Derek turns to me for the answer.

"Haluski." I barely whisper.

"Haluski!" Derek shouts back even though Isaac probably heard my whisper. He probably wanted to keep up the calm illusion that only he could hear me, since I only trusted him with my words.

Isaac returns from the kitchen with a bowl of his own and sits on the chair.

I scoot a hint bit closer to Derek, and the three of us eat in silence.

The Mets win the game.

After we did the dishes, Derek went searching for a spare blanket after giving me an extra pillow from his bed.

"He's spending the night?" Isaac asks, slightly baffled.

Derek nods, not paying much mind to Isaac's confusion. Isaac has a thoughtful face for a moment before he timidly turns to me.

"Is everything okay at home?"

I nod, confused.

"I-I mean is everything cool between you and your dad?"

What's he implying? Does he not want me over? Is he trying to remind me I have a perfectly nice home to go to, and shouldn't be staying at the loft?

I want to ask, but my lip quivers instead, so I just nod again.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were…safe."

Oh. OH.

"He's not… hitting me. He's just working overnight and I…don't want to be alone. But uh, thanks for looking out for me."

Isaac nods, but I can tell he's still trying to put the puzzle pieces together.

Derek returns with a pillow from his bed a large green knit blanket.

Isaac runs off and returns with a pair of basketball shorts, and a t-shirt.

I smile at him, and awkwardly gesture to the bathroom, my was of asking if it's okay that I take a shower.

"Yeah sure." Derek responds in an aloof voice.

I look at both of them, and gesture a second time, as if to make sure it's okay. I'd feel guilty stealing the shower, but both Derek and Isaac shake their heads.

"I'm more of a morning shower person." Isaac states and Derek nods in agreement, although I'm not sure they're being 100% honest.

I slip into the bathroom and turn on the shower, waiting for the hot water to heat up. While I wait I take one of the small paper cups and pour some mouthwash into it, I can't brush my teeth since my toothbrush is at home, and I figure this is better than nothing.

I wait until the water is scalding and strip down, stepping in. I can't skip showers anymore, not that I would skip them often before. But before if I had a late night, I would figure skipping one shower wouldn't kill me. But now it doesn't mater if it's 1AM, I'm taking a shower.

I quickly shampoo my hair with some axe shampoo, which I assume is Isaacs. Before picking up a bottle of body wash, it's some fancy brand I've never heard of, and pour some in my hands before scrubbing down my body.

It smells like pine trees, figures Derek would buy it. The scent is familiar though, nice. I slowly sink down, sitting in the middle of the tub as the hot water pours over my body, leaving my skin red.

I stay like that for a few minutes, pushing aside the sudden urge to scream, before getting out of the shower and drying myself off with a fluffy dark blue towel. I slip back into my boxers before putting on the basketball shorts and T-shirt Isaac loaned me. The T-shirt falls to my thighs, and I look like a little kid wearing their parent's clothes.

I put the towel in the laundry basket before folding my jeans and shirt, and taking them outside with me. I place them next to my backpack and curl up on the couch. It's only about 10, but I'm already exhausted. I guess my tears wore me out.

Isaac heads upstairs to his room, and Derek turns off all the lights, except for the one on his table, as he types away on a laptop. The clicking noises calm me, and I find myself drifting away.

I feel something cold on my neck, and wake up to see Andy staring over me, a knife pressed to my neck.

"Scream and I'll kill you." He whispers, and I nod, glancing over to find Derek asleep in his bed.

"I can't fucking believe you. First you beg for it, and then you lie to my girlfriend? Pathetic little shit."

I open my mouth to say something, but he just presses the knife to my neck, and I immediately stiffen, feeling a hint of blood oozing from where he pressed the knife.

He grabs the hem of my shorts and pulls them down in one swift motion.

"After this, you'll never even think of telling anyone. I guess you didn't learn your lesson the first time, didn't learn how to keep quiet."

He drops the knife, and grabs my forearms, pinning each one above my head with a separate hand.

I start screaming.

"STOP! STOP! LET ME GO! STOP! HELP! HELP!"

I'm screaming as loud as I can, but Derek doesn't even twitch in his sleep, and Isaac never comes bounding down the stairs.

"LET GO OF ME! STOP! STOP IT!"

"-ILES!"

"NO! NO!"

"STILES!"

"STOP IT!"

"STILES PLEASE WAKE UP!"

"STOP! STOP! AHHHHH!"

But suddenly Andy is gone, Derek and Isaac in his place.

Derek is on my side, while Isaac is next to me, pining my arms above my head

My eyes dart around frantically and I start screaming again.

"LET GO OF ME! LET GO OF ME! STOP!"

Isaac immediately frees my arms, and I pull them to my sides, wrapping them around my chest. I let out a few pants and close my eyes.

"I'm sorry, you wouldn't stop, and I had to pin your arms down." Isaac tells me, and I open one eye.

It was just a dream, Andy isn't here. I'm with Isaac and Derek, they wont hurt me. Derek wouldn't let anything hurt me. I'm safe here.

"W-wouldn't stop what?" I ask and Isaac gestures to my arms, and I realized I left some pretty bad scratches on them.

I examine them, and Derek looks petrified. He slowly reaches a hand out, and places it on my arm.

"S-sorry I woke you."

"It's fine, don't apologize. I'm going back to bed, but let me know if you need anything." Isaac tells me with a tired voice, as he heads back upstairs.

Derek squats down next to me, not letting go of my arm.

"He was here." I whisper to him after a moment, knowing Isaac's probably sound asleep again and wont hear me.

"He held a knife to my neck, I was screaming but you were still asleep and he was gonna do it again. He-he said he would teach me to stay quiet. I kept screaming, but you didn't hear me."

Derek shakes his head, "I would never let that son of a bitch hurt you again. You're safe; " his hand travels down my arm before grabbing my own, "okay?"

I squeeze his hand and nod, never wanting to move from this position.

Derek holds my hand until I fall asleep, and I don't have another nightmare.

My phone alarm wakes me up, and I slowly untangle myself from the blanket. I reach down to grab my clothes from yesterday, and wish Isaac were downstairs so I could ask to borrow another shirt.

Derek must read my thoughts because he reaches into his dresser and grabs a plain black t-shirt, tossing it to me. I nod I thanks and go to the bathroom to change, splashing some cold water on my face and gargling mouthwash again. I keep deodorant in my backpack so I use that. I wear my hoodie from yesterday to cover the nightmare scratches on my arm. When I re-enter the living room Isaac's sitting on the couch eating a granola bar. He heads to the bathroom after me and I go to the kitchen and grab my own granola bar and a glass of water.

I wait for Isaac to get ready so I can give him a lift to school.

I really didn't want to go to school today. Not just because I was dreading school, but also because I didn't want to leave the loft…leave Derek. He's the only person I feel completely at ease with, feel safe with.

The ride to school is a bit tense and awkward. I can tell Isaac is struggling with whether or not to say something.

He decides to say it.

"Look, um," he fidgets in his seat, "I know you and I don't... well we were never that close. But I can tell something's up. I know you're dad isn't abusing you, but someone's doing something. And um," he rubs the back of his neck "just, I know we're not that close but I'm like here for you or whatever. I mean, shit that sounded douchey…if you ever need someone to like, beat the shit out of someone…or someone to talk to, I'm here."

Even though his speech is anything but eloquent, and probably turned me off ever wanting to have a heart to heart to Isaac, like ever, it still means a lot.

"I smile at him gratefully, stopping at a read light.

"Um, one more thing…." He trails off and I look at him expectantly, "why…why don't you talk?"

I turn my head back to the direction of the light, and don't respond, letting the jeep echo in silence until we reach school.

I park in my usual parking spot and ignore the bewildered expression on Scott's face as he sees Isaac exit my car.

I doubt Lydia told anyone what I said, but I'm still terrified when I enter school that everyone will know. I close my eyes as I push open the doors to the school, but my ears aren't filled with whispers, and when I open my eyes, no one is staring, so it's safe to assume Lydia didn't tell anyone.

Scott glances at me a few times in Chemistry, and I panic for a moment, before remembering that I gave Isaac a ride to school and he's probably beyond confused. I wonder if Isaac will mention the fact that I spent the night, I'd pay good money to see Scott's reaction to such scandalous information.

For once in my life I was glad about spending lunch with Morrell, mostly because I wanted to put off dealing with Lydia for as long as possible. During math I never looked away from the whiteboard, eternally grateful that Lydia and I sat on opposite ends of the classroom. But during lunch, I'd be in full view for her to glare at. And it's not just like I was afraid of having her glare at me, as pathetic as I may be at times. I was afraid of a constant reminder that she doesn't believe me. A constant reminder of what happened.

I sat on my usual seat across from Morrell, wrapping my arms around my legs and resting my head on my knees.

"So Stiles, are you ready to share what's causing your curious lack of speech?"

I had been asked this question countless times, and never answered. Could semantic satiation be applied to an entire sentence?

"I do speak." I respond and she immediately perks up in her seat.

"Besides telling me to call you Stiles, this is the first time you've ever spoken during one of your sessions." She accuses.

"I said I speak. I didn't say I speak to you." I respond flippantly, envisioning Derek.

She ignores my icy tone, jotting something down in my folder.

"Do you associate speech with trust?" She asks, glancing up.

I'm caught off guard. I imagined her to ask my why I choose not to speak to her, or who I do speak to. Not to be so spot on with her question.

I don't respond, trying my best to keep my face neutral. She jots something down in the folder, but doesn't seem surprised by my lack of response.

I was the textbook example for mixed emotions, mostly my emotions about the pack meeting tonight.

On the bright side, Derek and his loft, on the downside, Lydia.

I wondered if she would even go to the meeting. I had a feeling she would. She's probably assuming that I'm not going to go, since she had the back up of all her friends, and I don't.

Well, I do actually, I have Derek, but she doesn't know that.

After Morrell I'm at my locker getting my books for AP Stats when Danny stops in front of my locker.

"So are you going tonight?" He asks casually and for a millisecond I think he's talking about the pack meeting. I'm about to freak out, wondering when he found out about the supernatural. But then I realize if Danny knew, Derek would've told me, so I just turn to him confused.

"AP art auditions?" He elaborates, and my eyes widen.

Shit, I had completely forgotten. I was convinced they were next week.

"What time?" I ask him.

"Uh," he opens his binder, and pulls out a sheet of paper, handing it to me, "here, all the info's on that."

I nod and start speed reading so I can give it back, but Danny's already closing his binder.

"You can keep that, I grabbed it for you." He tells me offhandedly and I smile at him, closing my locker and heading to Stats.

I pull out the flyer as soon as I'm in my seat, and read over the times.

' AP Sculpting Audition- 4PM

AP Photography Audition- 5PM

AP Studio Art 2D Design Audition- 6PM

AP Studio Art 3D Design Audition-7PM

AP Studio Art Drawing Audtion-8PM'

Ugh, figures mine would be the last. It looks like all the auditions were an hour long, which meant I probably wouldn't be able to get to the pack meeting until 9:30. I pull my phone out under my desk and send a quick text to Derek.

"Is it okay if I miss the 1st half hour of the pack meeting?"

To my surprise, Derek's reply comes immediately.

" Why, you avoiding Lydia? Cause you can't do that forever."

"No it's not that…AP art auditions are today. I dunno, thought I might go. Its stupid though I don't have to."

"No, you should go."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's a great idea."

I smile to myself and shut my phone back in my pocket, trying to catch up on our lecture.

I realized half way through that I didn't have a portfolio ready, and began to freak out a bit, trying to think of ways to get a proper one together in time. Thankfully I had a few hours, so that was good. Most of my drawings were in the abandoned janitor's closet I had claimed as my own, so I could probably go collect them after school and get something together.

After Spanish class, instead of going straight to my locker, I went straight to the janitor's closet. Insert joke about how that's a metaphor for my life.

I was about to collect up the papers so I could decide which ones to use and buy a folder for them, but I realized I really liked the way the looked right now. Portraits of trees decorated the walls of the closet, making it look like some vast, uncertain forest.

I took a picture of it, and sent it to Derek, not even thinking as I did so.

I decided to stay at school during the auditions, instead of head to Derek's and then come back, and then go back to Derek's.

I spent most of it seated outside the art room reading a book Derek loaned me, Fahrenheit 451.

Waiting is inevitably boring, but Derek sends me a good luck text halfway through, which helps brighten up the time.

The AP Drawing auditions start, but since the alphabet is against me, I'm one of the last people to be called.

"Sti-stilini-ski?" I hear a woman call, and immediately trudge over to the table.

"Ok, have you ever taken any art classes before?" She asks and I shake my head.

"Okay, well I'm going to be completely honest, most people usually have to take on-level before AP. I'm not saying theirs no chance, I'm just letting you know the odds. Even if you have a talent, you usually have to learn how to properly use it first. Only those with a very exceptional talent find themselves straight in AP." She explains to me and I nod.

"Now, let me take a look at your portfolio."

She waits a moment and then tilts her head to the side, a smug sort of look on her face.

"You do have a portfolio, correct?"

I nod, but then jolt my head to the side, gesturing to outside.

"It's not on you?" Then go get it." She tells me with a tired sigh.

I gently take her arm and once again gesture outside.

She looks at me confused before the woman next to her leans over and whispers something.

I have a feeling the woman either whispered, "oh his drawings are all in a janitors closet, obviously" or "you know he's about as talkative as Cassandra Cain, right?"

But it doesn't matter, because she follows me outside and to the janitor's closet. Baffled until I turn on the light, and then she seems mesmerized.

After a few minutes she turns to me, her smile lacking it's smug charm.

"Congratulations, Mr. Sturminsli, you have that exceptional talent."

If I didn't subconsciously link physical contact with mental breakdowns, I'm pretty sure I would've hugged her.

I smile during the entire drive to Derek's, until I park and see Lydia's car and Scott's bike and remember, oh shit, I actually have to face Lydia.

I awkwardly slide open the loft door, and find space between Isaac and Derek on the couch.

"Why are you so late?" Allison asks.

"He's only 20 minutes late." Isaac comments.

"Yeah, but these meetings are only an hour long."

Everyone turns to me expectantly, so I turn to Derek, giving him a tiny nudge with my elbow, as if to say 'you can tell them'.

"He was at the AP auditions." He tells them.

"AP classes don't have auditions." Lydia points out with a pretentious tone, as if she'd caught me in a lie. I'm not lying this time, and I wasn't lying last time.

"AP art does." Isaac responds, smugly.

Scott gapes, "Stiles in AP art? Um, Stiles in art at all?"

I hate how the focus of the meeting has been directed at me. So I was late, can they just move on with their lives? I understand they must've been suffering without me, but still.

I glare at Scott, and to everyone's surprise, especially my own, I speak.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Scott quickly attempts to backtrack, "nothing, it's just, I've known you since kindergarten, and you've never mentioned an interest in art."

I know he has a point, but I'm still angry, "don't act like you know me, Scott. You don't, not anymore."

I can tell he wants me to elaborate, but Isaac cuts in.

"So how'd the audition go? No offense, but I hear it's practically impossible to get into AP art without taking on level first."

"Not entirely impossible." I mumble with a smile, and blush when Isaac gives me a congratulatory pat on the back.

I ignore Scott's dumbfounded expression and we settle back into discussion on the new students, the Alpha twins.

Lydia doesn't speak to me again during the meeting, she doesn't glare either. She just observes me, kind of the same way Isaac does sometimes. I wonder what she's looking for, what she's expecting.

I have an idea I'll find out eventually.

A/N: * Wipes forehead * well, that was by FAR, my longest chapter yet. Mostly filler, but hopefully it was a proper THANK YOU FOR 100+ REVIEWS! Oddly enough, I was originally planning on having the pack meeting last chapter, but then decided I didn't have enough plot for this chapter. Anywho, thank you again for all the reviews! They inspire me to make the story longer, and for me to update faster. You guys are the absolute best, and I'm so happy theirs so many people that like this story. Also, I through in the Mets game because Stiles likes the Mets, and I thought he deserved a victory, but alsoooo because I'm actually a lifelong Mets fan myself. They're actually how I discovered Teen Wolf. I saw something about Dylan O'Brien and the Mets, and was like "ooh Mets" and clicked it. Which introduced me to my love Dylan, and my obsession, Teen Wolf. So, if you like this story, then thank the fact that I'm from New York.