Chapter Text
Prologue
Stiles hooked his messenger bag over his shoulder as he walked down the street towards his apartment, his other hand holding the cell phone to his ear while he talked to his father, “Dad, we’ve been over this like... a million times,” it was hard to keep the frustration out of his voice, but they had this same conversation, literally, almost every time they spoke lately. Seriously.
“I know that, but you never give me a decent reason as to why you won’t come home for your summer break,” his father sounded just as frustrated with him.
“I told you I have a job,” he looked both ways then crossed the street, jogging a bit at the end to avoid getting hit by a driver who clearly didn’t understand the concept of pedestrian right-of-way. Stepping onto the sidewalk he added, “I’ll get more hours during the summer because I won’t have classes to work around.”
“You chose Berkley because you got a full scholarship so you wouldn’t have to work Stiles, and could focus on school!”
That wasn’t completely true.
Well, the part about getting the full scholarship was true.
But he chose Berkley because it meant his father wouldn’t have to pay a dime for it. He didn’t want to add any more financial burdens to the man’s shoulders after years of it during high school. While they didn’t talk about it, Stiles was sure his dad was still paying for hospital bills from those tests and brain scans during junior year. Not to mention when the Sheriff got shot...
Of course he never told his father that was the real reason because he knew the man would tell him not to worry about it and that they’d have figured out a way. The thing was... they wouldn’t have. What would have happened is his father would have over extended himself and be paying bills till he ended up in the grave. Stiles couldn’t live with that. Besides, it wasn’t so bad - he liked Berkley and it was a great school with all the programs he was interested in. And another reason had been because it wasn’t too far from home.
“Dad, I need money to pay rent for my apartment and for food.”
“An apartment you didn’t need to rent when the dorms were perfectly fine.”
Stiles rolled his eyes. Two years was long enough in the dorms and this was an old discussion that didn’t need repeating, “Sure, if I never wanted any privacy.”
“You could have gone to the library--”
“Dad!” he immediately regretted snapping at his father, so he took a deep breath and tried again, straining to keep his voice even, “Look, I don’t see what the big deal is. You can come visit me here like you did before. If I come home you’ll be working shifts most of the time anyway, right? This way, you can take off for a few days and we’ll have actual time together. It’ll be more fun. Besides, there’s nothing to do in Beacon Hills.” It was all perfectly logical and he didn’t understand why his father wasn’t getting it.
“Stiles...” his dad’s voice softened, “Don’t you want to see your friends?”
Sometimes he wished the man wasn’t so perceptive, “I talk to them all the time.”
“But you don’t see them.”
“We Skype.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Just about...”
He heard his father sigh over the line and had to stop himself from doing it as well. “Did something happen? I mean, since the last time you were here... I don’t know, you’ve been pulling away.”
“I’m not pulling away Dad...” I’m avoiding. There was a difference.
“You know you can talk to me about anything.”
“I know,” But not about this. The last thing Stiles wanted to do was relieve the moment out loud that seemed to have itself on repeat in his brain, skipping over and over like a bad recording.
“Stiles... it isn’t a good idea. I can’t do this with you,” his eyes were full of pity...
Stiles shuddered and tried to focus on his father’s voice to push aside the memory, even though his chest tightened and his heart stuttered.
“Son, I can’t force you to tell me anything... But just know anytime you want...”
“I do know Dad. I do,” he rubbed the center of his chest and paused at the corner across the street from his apartment building, “Look, I’m almost home and...” He smelled gas.
His brows came together as he looked around, people passing by him, talking and oblivious. The smell though was intense and made him gag.
“Stiles?” his father called to him through the phone.
He brought the back of his hand up to his nose, wanting to block out the scent. Didn’t anyone else smell it? How was no one else aware this? Why were they all ignoring it? Stiles turned, trying to locate the source, but he couldn’t see anything strange... no trucks or power and gas employees. Lightheaded from the stench he was sure if someone caused a spark, the whole world would blow up.
Of course, thinking that way, he shouldn’t really have been surprised when that’s exactly what happened.
The world exploded in a huge flash of light and sound.
The last thing Stiles heard was his father calling his name from far away and then there was just silence.