Chapter Text
Food
Chapter One: How it begins
Nobody ever knows how a refusal to eat starts. But they all know how it ends. Ultimately, it ends with death. Stiles will be no different to that. He’s not immortal.
He just doesn't know how to stop it anymore.
The mirror is a shock, really.
Stiles stares at his skinny form and knows he has taken his sorrow too far. Truth be told though, he had no clue that it has already come to the point he can’t even face himself in the mirror. That he wants to deny that he’s this skinny eighteen-year-old young man, who hardly looks like the person he once was anymore.
Stiles needs to eat, but he knows he can’t. Not anymore. Lately, he just never really found any interest in food, as if it didn’t matter anymore what he digested. Anything nutritious was just meant to keep him alive, really. It didn’t have any taste anymore, like Frodo would say when he was possessed by the ring. Stiles felt like Frodo right now. He felt like he was crawling up Mount Doom with every passing day.
Nothing seemed important anymore to Stiles, so why should he bother eating? Life hadn’t really been the same since the Nogitsune or after Donovan’s attack and death, but even then, Stiles had known how to eat in order to survive. Today, even that feeling was lost on him.
Some people gain weight when they’re stressed out. They binge until their stomachs are bloated and their heads hurt. Until they have to rush to the bathroom to let it all out.
Stiles loses weight. Not by the pound either, but by the kilograms. It falls off him like a second skin, shedding so rapidly he can hardly keep it together. Stiles can’t help himself. Food becomes nuisance, something to forget about, when he’s stressed out. He can go hours without it, probably even days.
Stiles is completely stressed out right now, so he forgets about food.
Gone were the days that he craved nutrition because his growing body screamed for it. Gone were the times he stuffed ten curly fries into his mouth with the speed of a starving dinosaur. Gone were the days that he reprimanded his dad for not eating healthy, because they never ate together anymore. He had become quite handy in avoiding evasive questions and get-togethers that had something to do with food.
Gone were the times where he would devour a whole pizza in the company of friends, who would mock him playfully for stuffing his face but enjoying the sight of him eating nonetheless. Those were the best days, with his friends gathered around during quieter, almost peaceful times. Those days were rare these days though and they never felt the same since before Donovan.
Gone were those days, because they happened before the event that changed Stiles’ life forever. An event even worse than the Nogitsune, Theo or Donovan.
Let’s state a fact.
Stiles does know how it all started. He just refused to accept that his life had changed because of one stupid creature that wasn’t even supposed to be there that night. One shapeshifter, who had crossed the boundaries of another pack’s territory, blatantly ignoring the unwritten rules of werewolves.
It all began with that rogue werewolf that had surprised them in the preserve one night. It was still amazing, Stiles thought, that Lydia hadn’t screeched her banshee-scream to warn them both about his imminent death. After all, as a harbinger of death, she should have sensed that her best friend, or so Stiles hoped he was, was going to die.
Lydia didn’t scream. Later on, she would say that she had been as shocked as anyone that the werewolf had jumped them out of the blue, with his claws ready to kill.
The banshee had been distracted, she would apologize later. She was too preoccupied with other things, such as Jordan Parrish flirting openly with her and school sucking up most of her time. Not that she needed the studying or extra assignments. She just wanted to make really, really sure that she graduated top of the class, so she put in extra work to make sure that she got her wish. The irony of it all was that Stiles was the only person she had to beat.
Lydia’s wish nearly got Stiles killed. She had been arguing about an equation with him. Fiercely, wanting to make sure he knew that she was still the smartest of them two, even though he wasn’t that far behind. In some areas, he outsmarted her, but Stiles was too polite to remind her of that.
Lydia had waved her arms, made large gestures and told him bluntly that he should stop worrying about which college he would go to, since they had already discussed going to the same and that she wouldn’t allow for him to fail their plan to stay together for the next four years.
In truth, Stiles didn’t plan on going with her. He had applied for the FBI-Academy pre-program, with the help of Scott’s dad. He hadn’t told Lydia just yet. The decision to do so came shortly after the Beast had been defeated. The urge to help people and make things right after Donovan, existed firmly inside of him. His dad had told him he would make a fantastic FBI-agent and had encouraged him to take the plunge, even reconciling with his former enemy over it.
Stiles had been thinking about Derek while he walked next to Lydia. Ever since the werewolf came back from his lengthy trip, he had changed into a softer, changed man. The past year had been kind to him. Stiles had reacquainted himself with Derek, seeing the changes in him as an opportunity to grow his feelings for him.
Better yet, he had become Derek’s go-to-man whenever he had questions or needed anything. It pleased Stiles that he was the person Derek would turn to. He had hoped for it, but never expected it.
Derek was not the same man who left with Braeden after Kate’s attacks. He had come back as a better version of himself, less broody and more subject to outside suggestions and change. He had moved back into his loft, had redecorated it and talked about getting to know Scott’s pack better, even though he hardly knew the younger kids, except for Liam. Mason and Corey were okay, so Derek discovered quickly. They kept to themselves but they were there when they needed them. Hayden had left town, but Kira and Malia were still there.
Of course, so was Stiles, who had returned to being the heart of the pack after he had patched things up with Scott. Theo came and left to hell. Donovan’s death was the first thing Stiles talked about with Derek, sensing that the werewolf would understand. Talking about it with him had turned out to be the best therapy Stiles could have wished for.
Derek confessed to Stiles that he still felt guilty about losing Erica, Boyd and Isaac, but apparently, he was back in touch with Isaac and tried to persuade him to come back to Beacon Hills. Stiles would love that too, since he had grown fond of Isaac and his wicked humor. Scott seemed quite pleased with that prospect and even talked to Derek about how they could persuade him to come back.
So yeah, things were pretty much back to normal in Beacon Hills. Things even calmed down after the Beast’s defeat. Enough for Stiles to decide to pursue Derek, since he had fallen head over heels in love with the man for the second time in his life. When he did the first time, Stiles had been a skinny kid, too young to be noticed in that way and too hyperactive for anyone to bear for a long time.
Now, after the Nogitsune and the Dread Doctors and Theo and Donovan, Stiles also was a calmer, more serious version of himself. He had grown physically stronger too, with muscles adding to his lean form.
The teenager had grown up the hard way, but it had made him stronger in the end. He was going to the FBI as an adult and looked forward to the challenge. He wanted to tell Derek before he informed the others and ask him about his opinion.
So, when Lydia discussed colleges and options and grades, Stiles hardly listened to her. If he had told her he was heading for Quantico, she might have paid more attention to the sounds in the woods. She might have seen and sensed the werewolf they met on their way through the preserve, heading for the Nemeton because Parrish had asked some question about the tree and its magic. Since the area had been safe for quite some time, nobody saw any harm in them going on their own.
Parrish, an established hellhound, felt a connection to Lydia Stiles never did. He was happy for them both, as he saw their affection for one another as warm, true and genuine. Stiles’ crush on Lydia had come and gone a long time ago.
Lydia had offered Parrish to do the research with Stiles. And Stiles, happy that he had the perfect excuse to then drive the small distance to Derek’s loft and spend the evening with him on the couch, had happily complied.
The rogue werewolf came out of nowhere. From the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Lydia fly through the air as she was flung away by the shapeshifter. He turned too late and saw the claws on the head, aiming to kill him.
Stiles took two steps backwards to save himself from being struck in the face by the wolf, but the claws still grazed by his throat, leaving a burning sensation on his skin and in his flesh that he would never forget.
He stumbled, fell backwards and knocked himself out on the tree stump coming up to greet him. The last thing Stiles saw, was the werewolf reaching out for him. The beast grabbed him by the collar.
Stiles passed out straight away. The last thing he heard, was the growl of a familiar wolf. A wolf, who would come to save them both.