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There were rumors about Stiles Stilinski.
Yeah, that’s what they could be called. Rumors. Not the truth, not actually real— or that’s what a lot of kids liked to say, at least. Because Stiles Stilinski was, well… Stiles Stilinski.
He was the spastic, sarcastic, and eventually sardonic son of the local country Sheriff.
Stiles Stilinski was the kid who could pass every single math test without studying and then accidentally skip out on finals because he forgot they existed. He ran around in clothes that were too big for him and stumbled over his own feet when going at a normal pace.
Stiles was… well, he was Stiles. And that was the easiest way to describe him.
Things started changing around sophomore year of high school.
Miguel knew he wasn’t the only one who noticed it. Stiles started acting different and that would be putting it mildly. A lot of people at Beacon Hills started acting different, if Miguel was being honest, and that might’ve been when the rumors started spreading.
It began with the arrival of the new Argent girl. And by the time sophomore year was winding down to an end, Stiles Stilinski just wasn’t Stiles Stilinski anymore.
It made more sense in Miguel’s head.
He watched as the circles underneath Stiles’s eyes slowly started growing darker. The boy was laughing less and smirking more. There was this curl to his lips that could make Miguel’s heart stutter and he had never considered himself one to fall for a simple look, but he knew he wasn’t the only one recognizing the changes in Stilinski.
And then there were his bodyguards.
That’s the only thing they could be considered, at least. The three kids who had once been the outcasts of Beacon Hills and suddenly became irresistible overnight. Miguel might have believed it was witchcraft if he didn’t believe in things like that.
The point was, the three kids gravitated to Stiles like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.
“They’re part of a gang,” some kids said.
“They’ve killed a man,” claimed others. Miguel didn’t believe any of it.
Then Isaac Lahey’s dad showed up dead.
A lot of things added fire to the rumors, but that one was the greatest. In a matter of one day, the Stilinski gang went from possible criminals to full-blown murders and that really shouldn’t have been as sexy as Miguel considered it.
The boy’s dad was the Sheriff. Some kids like to say he covered for them; in whatever the hell went on in Beacon Hills.
Then Jackson Whittemore and Lydia Martin started hanging out with Stilinski too. And the rumors went wild from there.
More time passed. The Stilinski group was dubiously named ‘biker jeans and leather jackets’ and went on to get more unruly. Darker circles formed underneath Stiles’s eyes. By the time junior year rolled around, everyone knew not to mess with Stilinski and his friends.
They’d acquired a few more individuals. Two of the new girls. A younger underclassman who looked like a puppy but was rumored to have a hell of a delinquent background.
Erica had been suspended from school three times for threatening to disembowel anyone that looked at Stilinski wrong. There was this one time a lacrosse player rammed into Stiles a little too hard during practice and Lahey threw him into the nearest goal like he weighed nothing more than a lacross ball. But Miguel thought the middle guard was the scariest. Vernon Boyd, who had never been given a second glance until he came to school one day with Erica at his side and a leather jacket on his shoulders. And suddenly, everyone in school avoided him like the plague.
When he smirked, it was terrifying.
The Stilinski gang wore leather jackets. Those around them radiated an air of ‘I will cut you’. Not a single one wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous. Miguel thought it was a required necessity to join the group or something.
Strange things came and went with their group. It was the little things at first; there would be a couple of hikers reported to have gone missing. Stiles and his group would disappear for a few days, the school would get quiet, and when they came back, everything was fine. It was like there had never been a disturbance at all.
Then there were the big things.
A massacre of headless corpses or a pattern of brutal killings. Stiles’s face would grow paler, the shadows under his eyes would grow longer, and by the time the news reports had gone quiet, his smirk would have a sharper edge than ever before.
Kids claimed he kept a barbed baseball bat in the back of his jeep. Miguel didn’t believe it.
Around the end of senior year, though, people had decided maybe the Stilinski gang wasn’t a bunch of murderers. Maybe they were a secret group of vigilantes that kept Beacon Hills safe instead.
For some reason, Miguel couldn’t disregard that one as easily.
The rumors grew and branched out from there. Miguel was pretty sure there was a ‘Stilinski Gang’ conspiracy theorist group that met every other Friday and discussed things at the local library. Last he heard, people were thinking that Stiles was the leader of a group of supernatural beings. Which he thought was ridiculous, personally.
Because it was ridiculous, right? It had to be.
But then there was this one time Miguel’s best friend came to school with a picture of a figure in a red hoodie holding a bloody baseball bat, saying he’d taken it out in the woods. It took about three days for everyone to quiet down.
Miguel might have believed that one for a day or so.
There were rumors about Stiles Stilinski, yes. Miguel grew up in Beacon Hills and watched it go from strange to stranger. Even so, he steered clear of Stilinski and his gang. His father had always told him to keep his head down and Miguel did just that.
He didn’t mean to run into Stiles in the parking lot.
When the boy wanted to, he could look as charming as the devil. He’d grown his hair out over the years, his once gangly frame had bulked up and widened out, and his smile was infectious.
Miguel couldn’t be blamed for the way his heart skipped a few beats when he nearly bowled Stiles over while heading to his car.
“Oh my god,” Stiles said, stumbling. Miguel went stock-still and glanced around the parking lot, waiting for one of Stilinski’s guards to come over and take him out. But nothing happened.
“I’m so sorry,” Miguel said, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “I was in a hurry and I wasn’t looking where I was going and—”
“Hey, dude,” Stiles said, raising his hands. “It’s cool! Trust me, I know what it’s like to have literally no control over your own feet. There was this one time I was running away from a rogue wendigo and—”
Suddenly, there was a giant, looming figure standing behind Stiles. Miguel barely smothered a very unmanly noise and stumbled back a few steps and Stiles straightened too, whirling around.
But then he abruptly went lax.
“Derek, you giant asshole, we talked about this! The stalk-walk is how you get the cops called. And then you won’t be allowed to pick me up anymore!”
Derek only grunted and kept his eyes fixed on Miguel. He looked terrifyingly murderous.
“Anyway,” Stiles said, turning back around. “As I was saying… well, actually, I probably shouldn’t finish that story. But you get the gist, right?”
Wordlessly, Miguel nodded. He could’ve sworn Derek’s eyes flashed red for a moment. Stiles gave the man a sideways look and rolled his eyes, before turning back forward.
“Ignore Derek, he’s a bit of a fluff ball. I mean, the serial killer eyebrows tend to put most people off, but don’t be fooled. He’s not a serial killer! Or… usually. He’s respectable but, ya’ know, a little big doggy on certain days. Or full moons, I guess.”
“Stiles,” Derek growled. Terror coiled in Miguel’s gut but Stiles only chuckled.
“Okay, okay, let’s move along, big guy. Hey, it was nice running into you! Miguel, right?”
Derek’s eyes seemed to flash red again. Miguel could’ve sworn he missed something because Stiles’s smirk seemed to widen even more when he nodded. Turning away he heard the faint hiss of ‘that’s where it came from?’ and ‘yeah dude, I panicked.’
Miguel was still trembling when he pulled himself into his car.
Four years, a dozen accounts of murder, and one terrifying-looking serial killer later, and Miguel decided when he graduated, he was leaving Beacon Hills forever. This place was ridiculous; and he didn’t think it was run by anyone other than Stiles Stilinski and his gang.
That shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was terrifying. Miguel had to get out of here.
Whether they were all rumors or not.