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Sometimes it’s too Late

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He’s getting good at hiding. He keeps his heartbeat steady, and he stops his hands from shaking. He quiet now. There’s no more rambling and flailing limbs that might hit you if you get too close. Instead, he watches.

He watches Scott’s fidgeting when he stands beside him. He listens to the stuttering excuses of called off plans. He watches fear dance behind Lydia’s steady glance when she speaks to him, how she always makes sure there is someone in between them. He watches Kira and her parents give him looks of pity, but keeping a close eye on him just incase. He watches Argent and Issac follow him around town, just incase. He hardly catches Derek and Peter anymore, but when he does, they don’t speak. They stare, both of them. At the same time. It’s a little unnerving, but he figures it’s necessary. 

He listens. He listens to his dad take on every shift he can, figuring if anything happens, Argent can take care of it. Of him. He listens to Melissa and his conversations, the concern and fear in both their voices. He listens to the sound of Argents car when he pulls up on the curb outside his house. He listens to the claws of whichever werewolves takes camp outside his window that night. 

It’s a Friday morning. He gets out of bed an hour after his alarm rings, not bothering to shower. He doesn’t care how he looks anymore. He just throws on a random shirt, and the same jeans he wore the day before. He throws on his red hoodie, grabbing his bag before making his way downstairs.

Surprisingly, his dad’s sitting at the table. He can feel the eyes on him as he makes his way to the sink to get some water. 

“Good morning.” His dad mumbles from behind him. He gets ignored.

He drinks the cup of water fast. He needed to get out of there. He couldn’t sit in here with his dad, pretend everything’s okay when it’s nowhere near. 

“How are you today?” 


“Are you going to speak today?”

Stiles shakes his head at that. What’s the point? All he every did was annoy those he cared about when he did speak, so why was it a big deal that he isn’t now? Everyone should be glad.

He heard his dad sigh. “You can’t keep doing this.” 

He shook his head again, this time making his father slam his hands down on the table. He didn’t react.

“Damnit, Stiles. You can’t keep closing off. What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t how we handle these things. It’s like you’re not even my son anymore. Claudia would be disappointed!” 

Both of them froze at that. He didn’t mean for those words to come out. He’s frustrated. This is his son, and he’s slowly killing himself. He can’t bare to watch it. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. He wants to apologize, but he can’t get himself to do so.

Stiles just stared at him before walking to the front door. “Sorry to disappoint.” He said, turning to look his dad straight in the eye before walking out the door. The first words he’s said to him in a couple months. His voice was hard, but distant. There’s no sadness on his face, No tears in his eyes. It’s blank. Almost numb.

He shuts the door like nothing happened, stopping at his jeep. He reached for the door handle before stopping.

Claudia would be disappointed.

This was his mom’s jeep. Hers. He doesn’t deserve to drive it anymore. So, he walks. 

When he gets to school, the pack’s gathered by the front entrance. He walks past them. He doesn’t speak, or even glance at them. He misses the looks of sadness they send him. 

The know he’s spiraling. It’s like there’s a dark cloud that surrounds him. They don’t ask him if he’s okay. The know the answer. They don’t include him in plans. They know he’ll say no. They watch him from a distance, watching the way their losing a friend to his own mind. Still, they don’t do anything. They don’t know how. 

Derek and Peter are standing by the woods, watching. They feel bad, but what can they do? Derek’s never been fond of Stiles, never actually caring about him. He’s too loud, too sarcastic, too curious for his own good. He meddles in places he has no business being. Watching him now is strange. He’s different. He doesn’t talk, while a few months ago he’d talk your head off. His expression never changes. It’s all the same. Blank. 

Peter always found him interesting. He was brave, loyal, but annoying and witty. Now, he’s not anything. He’s just there.

Stiles didn’t bother sitting by his friends in class. He sat in the back, so quiet even his teachers began to be concerned. He skips history and english. At lunch,  he doesn’t go to the cafeteria. He doesn’t want to see them. He doesn’t want to see their looks full of hatred. He doesn’t want to see the empty chair where Allison’s supposed to be. 

He goes outside. He seems Argent parked outside and they make eye contact. He goes to the lacrosse field, no lunch in hand. He hasn’t had much of an appetite lately. He stops when he spots Derek and Peter. He should be surprised to see them, but he’s not. They look surprised though. The probably didn’t think he’d notice. 

Peter motioned for him to come to them. He turned on his heel and walked away. He missed the defeated looks on their faces. He doesn’t want to hear what they’ll say. How it was his fault, how he was weak. How he let him in.

He hears enough of that from Allison at night. 

At the end of the day, it’s almost like that morning all over again. He walks out the door, and the pack is gathered right beside it. He notices their looks this time. Argent’s still parked, staring at him again. Derek and Peter are gone. Scott opened his mouth to say something to him, but he ignores him. He walks home.

He misses the way Scott’s face falls, and the worried looks from Kira and Issac. Lydia looks distraught. A feeling runs down her spine and she gets goosebumps. She can’t place it, so instead she says, “I’m worried about him.” still staring at him as he walks away. 

“Me too.” Scott says. “But I don’t know how to get to him. He won’t talk, he doesn’t answer my calls, my texts.” 

“I-” Lydia starts before stopping, all of them looking at her. “Um. Can we meet at your house? All of us, including Derek and Peter. Stiles.” 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll text Derek. Meet around 7?” They all nod before splitting up. 

Stiles’s phone chirps, and that actually startles him. He wasn’t expecting anyone to try to get ahold of him. He takes out his phone to see a message from Scott.


To: Stiles

From: Scott


meet @ my house, 7? everyone will be there. important. plz come.  


He scoffs. He ignores it. He’s heard everything before. He’s weak. A coward. It’s his fault. He knows. His dad isn’t home when he gets there, as expected. 

His stomach rumbles, painfully. He can’t remember the last time he ate. He doesn’t care.

He walks up the stairs, throwing his stuff down on the ground. He takes his phone out of his pocket, turning it off before throwing it down as well. He doesn’t want to talk. 

He lays in bed, closing his eyes. Maybe a nap would be better. He knows it’s a lie, but he lets sleep take him anyways.

Stiles looks around. He’s in the preserve. What’s he doing here? He doesn’t want to be here. 

He continues to walk forward, his bare feet getting cut on the branches he steps on. He walks for what feels like hours until he gets to the nematon. 

“No...” He whispers. There in front of him, is Allison. Her lifeless eyes are staring back at him. 

“What’s the matter, Stiles?” She says, slowly sitting up. Blood was dripping from her face, and he couldn’t look anymore. 

“Don’t close your eyes.” She whispered, suddenly being extremely close. He can feel her breath on his ear. “Look at what you did to me.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispers back, tears starting to roll down his cheeks. 

“You did this, Stiles.” She says louder. “You let him in!” 

“I’m so sorry!” He says louder as well.

“You killed me.”

“It’s your fault.”

“It was you.”

“You took her away from me.”

“How could you.”

“You couldn’t save us.”

“Everything’s your fault.”

“None of this would’ve happened, Stiles. Why’d you have to drag me into the woods with you.”

Everyone was shouting at him. Scott, Lydia, Derek, Erica, Boyd, his dad. Everyone. He covers his ears with his hands, sobbing. 

“I’m sorry!” 

He jumped up, a scream torn from his throat. He was sweating, and tears were coming down his face. The sun was still shinning through his window, and he looked at the clock. 7:20. 

He couldn’t take this anymore. 


Everyone was gathered in Scott’s living room. They sat in silence, waiting for Stiles to get there. Scott and Kira were sitting next to each other, both staring at the floor. Issac was sitting by Derek and Lydia, while Peter stood against the wall with his arms crossed. 

Lydia was jumping her leg up and down. The feeling was getting stronger. “Scott, you texted him right?”

Scott sighed. “Yeah, told him to be here at 7.”

“Did he say he was coming?” Kira asked.

“He didn’t text back.” Scott said, voice cracking. Stiles was his best friend, his brother. He wanted him back.


Stiles walked into the bathroom, looking in the medicine cabinet until he found what he was looking for. His mother’s pain medicine. She had gotten a new prescription the day before she went into the hospital, and they were never able to be used after that. He walked down stares into the kitchen, grabbing his dad’s bottle of jack daniels before running back up the stairs.

He was done. 

He took out a piece of paper, hesitating before scribbling something down.

It’s my fault. I’m sorry. For the woods, the nogitsune, for Allison. Take care of my dad.

I love you.

He swallowed the pills down with the alcohol, ignoring the burn in his throat. It felt good. He was calm. He felt better than he did in months. He later on his bed, facing his open window. He should close it, but he can’t bring himself to. The sunset was pretty, and he smiled. He watched it set, the light turning to darkness. His body was getting numb and floaty, and he just smiled. He can get peace now. He closed his eyes, telling his dad in his mind that he loves him. 


His heart stops beating, and there’s a faint sound of a banshee screaming his name in the distance.