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Stiles walked down the tile path which was just along side the pool. Scott was off in front of him, Jackson was somewhere, and Allison needed to be in the know. Not to mention Lydia was somewhere probably having a decent time. It was probably not the best idea to invite the "girls" from Jungle but he was too wasted to fully fix it. Stumbling a bit he was almost caught up to the beta when the familiar ring of his father's voice echoed through the party.
Pausing he leaned on the column only to see his father in a familiar suit that tugged his heart.
"Why am I wearing black?" His father snapped at some guy Stiles doesn't know. "What are you an idiot? I just came from a funeral! People wear black when they go to funerals!"
Stiles was stunned.
"Dude chill--!"
"Chill? Get outta my face!" His dad hissed, shoving the guy away violently, before stumbling around for a moment. The thrumming of the music suddenly gone, void and noiseless other than his harsh breathing. Finally after what seemed like forever Stiles met his dad's gaze. Goose bumps crawled over his skin, panic bubbled in the back of his head, tears stung and threatened to spill over the periphery of his eyes. God, the empty glass in his hand was about to fall with how shaky his hands had become.
"It's you," His dad growled raising the half full bottle of Jack, "It's all you...you know every day I saw her lying in the hospital bed slowly dyin'. I thought how the hell am I supposed to raise this stupid kid on my own? This hyperactive little bastard who keeps ruinin' my life!"
Stiles swallowed the pain. Somewhere he knew this wasn't happening, that he was at Lydia's party but this felt real. It felt real because there's this pit in the bottom of his stomach that was bottomless and felt like it was actually eating him from the inside out. Others were looking, looking like they always do at him. With sad looks. Like when he tripped in the hall in sixth grade. The poor ADHD kid who's clumsy. Or when he had a panic attack at lunch in fourth grade. The poor kid who lost his mother too soon. Even to this day it hurt like no other.
"It's you. You Stilesss," He sneered before pointing right at him which should just be a gun to get this over with, "You killed her, you hear me? You killed her. And now you're killing me." Suddenly his dad chucked the bottle at him and it was coming in slow motion. The glass hurtling through the air and a tear finally fell down his face as everything when black for a moment, and there was no impact. Looking around again it was just a party...just a party.
Stiles bolted awake, the icy sheets of his bed rolling to the floor. His head whipped around frantically; the window was open and cold night air was whipping his blinds around, his door was closed, he was alone. For a long while he was curled up trying his best to calm down without alarming his dad. Eventually his breathing evened out, the world stopped spinning yet the chills that rolled down his spine we're leaving.
Mom. His mom, he killed her. His dad was right...maybe if he hadn't asked for so much. If he hadn't been so hyper and spazzy she would've have the energy to get better. Then again it doesn't take energy to stop a shrinking brain. The tears rolled back in, his head clouding up. The damn Nogitsune had to bring this up again, it couldn't live happily in the past. Along with the buzz cuts and over sized baggy jeans.
On top of that, with all the supernatural, he was killing his dad.
The late nights, the constant worry. This thought circulated before which was both terrifying and reliving. Death for him would stop the worry for his father, it would devastate him, but keep him safer. Also he would be away from these crippling nightmares and thoughts. His breath hitched with it, the allure of it, made his body stop trembling and mind stop racing for a moment. Then there was Scott...Lydia, Malia, hell even Liam who may need his help.
"1...2...3..."
He needed to get a grip.
"...4...5...6"
But the warmth of fading away.
"7...8...9..."
Just going into a dreamless sleep.
"...10..."
No. No because his dad would drink again, maybe take himself away. No because Scott wouldn't know what to do even if he was the Alpha. No because his mother would expect more from him. Just because he let her down once didn't mean he was going to again. Biting his lip he got up on shaky legs and made his way to the window to shut it. After that he picked his blankets up and lazily threw them back on his bed before opening his door gracelessly. The creak echoed through the hallway but that didn't phase him as he walked down three doors to his dad's room.
He didn't even have his hand on the knob when a soft table light clicked on and casted under the door.
"Come on in son. I heard you...panicking." His dad called.
Stiles recoiled, unable to stop the sob that ripped from his throat. Opening and closing the door he rushed to the bed and threw himself in it holding his only parent close. His shoulder shook and body still felt cold. He didn't realize he was babbling until his dad was literally covering his mouth and telling him to breath. Huffing through his nose he ended up breathing shallowly as sleep filled his head. Under the covers his father still held close and ran his fingers over his head, just like when Stiles was a kid.
"You didn't kill her. You're not killing me. Stiles...shhh...just sleep."
"O-okay." He stuttered
"You didn't kill her."
His eyes fell shut.
"You're not killing me."
His breathing evened out.
"Just sleep."
He slept.