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There used to be a time when Scott could feel happy, even excited about lacrosse. He's barely given himself the opportunity to process any of what's happened to the point of moving on muscle memory more than actual involvement.
A few weeks after Peter is locked in Eichen House and Chris departs with Braeden and Derek, Scott is feeling more lost than he has since being bitten. The alpha who turned him, his trusted advisors and allies, are all gone. Scott knows it's only temporary but he can't help worrying about where he stands.
He has a beta now, Liam and Malia practically siblings in the pack as they're both still learning. He still has Stiles and Lydia and Kira, but they don't understand. They don't have the weight on themselves as he does, the crown of being a true alpha whose power is constantly sought out. Lydia still sits in the grief of her death scream for Allison, haunted in ways Scott won't ever be able to fully understand, while Stiles' paranoia increases, hypervigilant after his possession.
For as much as he cares for Kira, Scott finds himself distancing from even her. She's ceaselessly supportive, more than he feels he deserves. He's the one who wasn't fast enough to save Allison, wasn't smart enough to know Peter would betray them. He trusted Deucalion instead of his own pack and refused to try to understand Derek's perspective those first few months after turning.
Scott feels like he's running on empty, too old to be in high school still, privy to too many horrors for his few years. How the hell did he get here?
He closes his eyes as he sits on his bed, breathing deep. He feels helpless, like no matter what he does is right, and he realizes that helplessness had made him so fucking numb, full of fake smiles that don't reach his eyes and laughter that sounds like choking in his own ears. He can't even let himself fall apart because that would make him too vulnerable, open to attack. He's been running against a brick wall lined with mountain ash for the better part of his high school years. They were supposed to be the highlight of his life.
Scott opens his eyes again to look at his hands in his lap, open as if grasping something. He notes the way his veins protrude just the slightest amount from his wrists. He thinks of how easy it would be to just make it all stop.
A knock on the door startles him out of his focus and he looks up as Stiles walks in.
"Wanna go to the movies?" He asks.
Scott gives a half smile and nods, pushing himself to standing. As he tugs on his shoes Stiles leans against his side, arm wrapped around Scott's body. He lets out a breath at the reminder that maybe there are good things to stick around for.