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The day that Stiles was waiting for was finally here. The day that he moved out of his father’s house and into an uptown apartment he would share with his boyfriend of four years, Theo Raeken. He wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. If you told his high school self that he would begin dating his childhood best friend/ teenage enemy, he would have laughed in your face. Hell, if you told him that werewolves existed in middle school, he would have laughed in your face as well.
He was almost done with packing up his old room, before he came across an old, dusty book on his bookcase. He sunk into his bare mattress, determined to open it for the first time in years.
Stiles’ fingers trembled as he flipped open the old and faded scrapbook. It used to be yellow, back in the day when his mother worked on it. Now, through the years, it developed a dark residue. Even the color change reminded Stiles of the dark mental place his mom was before her death.
The first page was a beautiful baby blue with his given name at the top in cursive. In the middle of the page, there was an ultrasound. Stiles’ felt his eyes start to water as he read his mother’s whimsical handwriting at the bottom. “I will always be there for you, my darling boy.”
The next page was his mother holding him as a newborn in a hospital bed. She looked tired and happy, smiling brightly at whoever was behind the camera. His dad was to her right, also looking tired, but joyful. The sheriff looked young here, years before worry lines and gray hair appeared on the man. Around the picture, there was hand-drawn confetti as well as his weight and time at birth.
He skipped a few pages, knowing that he was short on time. This page featured a Polaroid of Stiles’ first practice at the tot lacrosse league. He was covered in grass stains as he grinned at the camera, with an arm around a teammate. Stiles looked closer, thinking that it might be Scott.. Holy shit, it was Theo. There were cute kids’ stickers around the photographs, even a red heart on the right hand corner. Stiles smiled to himself; if Theo was here he would make fun of his boyfriend for having a schoolyard crush.
Flipping a few more pages, he found an old drawing he did. It looks like a pack of werewolves. He grinned to himself at the irony until he read his mother’s caption: “My little artist! I know he’ll have a future in art.” Stiles inwardly blanched, previously forgetting about this moment in his life. He turned to science and facts after his mother’s death. He was not longer into art and refused to take part in it after the funeral.
The following page didn’t have a picture with Theo either but multiple cut out Christmas photos of Stiles and his dad. In the biggest one, in the center, had him and his dad in a light-saber battle, with the Christmas tree in the background. “Christmas time,” said the text at the top with far too many exclamation marks.
Stiles smiled fondly, thinking about how young and pure he was, before werewolves and the dread doctors and, well, everything. He flipped to the next page. Again, it was another sports practice. Maybe football? This time Stiles was in the center, both Theo and Scott on his sides, all three were covered in dried mud and grinning at each other. He found himself tracing over the photo, remembering better days. The surrounding theme was the classic red and white colors of all Beacon Hills sports.
The last page that had content was a photo of Stiles and Theo, crying as they hung on to each other. Stiles remembers that day and the pain that went along with it. Theo left Beacon Hills at the end of fourth grade that day. The page itself wasn’t decorated and there were a few more blank pages afterwards. Wondering why, his eyes snapped to the date on the picture. It was dated a year before his mom succumbed to her illness, back when she was weak and her memory was failing. Back before she viewed her own son as a monster.
Fresh tears that were threatening to fall since he opened the memories finally hit the pages, soiling the old worn paper. His breaths were raspy as he tried to get himself under control. He softly closed the book and placed it on his bare mattress.
Looking around his equally bare room, only filled with cardboard boxes, Stiles started sobbing, putting his face in his hands. This was his childhood home, there’s memories in each square inch. Plus, the sheriff was getting old and only had Stiles to take care of him. Maybe Stiles made the wrong choice after all.
He was so into his own head that he didn’t realize that his boyfriend made his way up the stairs into Stiles’ old room. By the time Stiles noticed him, Theo pulled him into a spine breaking hug.
Stiles voiced his fears to Theo, shaking into the warm embrace.
“Love, we are only moving ten minutes away. We can have dinner with your father every night of the week if you want. We can even make his lunch every day and bring it to him at the police station.”
Stiles thought about how grateful he was for Theo, and these memories, as he sighed into Theo’s comforting and familiar touch. Slowly, he got control over his emotions and his tears dried against his skin, leaving a salty residue. Not saying anything, he kissed Theo’s cheek in gratitude.
“Come on, love,” Theo whispered into Stiles’ neck, squeezing him harder. “We only have the rental truck for a few more hours.”
Nodding, Stiles stepped away from his boyfriend, wiped the salt from his face, and tucked the scrapbook under his arm. “Okay. I’m ready.”