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It started so gradually that Stiles didn’t think much of it. Just chalked it up to too many nights using his amazing googling powers as requested -more like threatened- by the one and only broody werewolf himself.
It was nothing really. Just a barely there fuzziness around the corners of his vision. He’d blink a few times, rub his eyes, and it would go away.
Stiles didn’t think anything of it.
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The fuzziness would come back at odd times. Like when he was doing his homework, or when he was downstairs getting a snack.
Sometimes it would get so distracting that Stiles wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else and it would give him a headache. The only way Stiles could get his head to stop pounding was to sleep through it.
By the time he woke up the headache, and the fuzziness, was gone.
Stiles didn’t let himself worry about it.
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It was getting worse, Stiles was starting to realize. But he was scared.
Scared of what was happening to him, and scared to tell anyone. Especially the pack... Derek. He was already the weakling of the group, what would happen if he told them “hey guys I think I’m going blind!” ? They wouldn’t need him anymore, or well a more correct statement would be: Stiles would be useless to them. He hated being useless.
Things would change, things would be weird. The pack would probably distance themselves from him and eventually move on. Stiles would be left alone. His dad would become more stressed. Like having to raise a shitty son wasn’t hard enough, now he’d have to take care of a shitty blind son.
Stiles was terrified.