Parker should've died that night and the whole world knew it. He was an innocent bystander, shot through the heart with at least three bullets and somehow, by some Gods miracle, he pulled through.
But everything came at a cost.
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Beacon Hills High, 2004
Jersey number 24, Parker had been wearing that jersey from day one. Lacrosse hadn't been just a hobby for him, but also a means of escaping the world that was around him.
Oftentimes, he'd find himself feeling suffocated by the immense struggles his father Noah had inadvertently placed upon him since his mothers diagnosis. The boy had been raised to not complain and to take everything on the chin and that was what he did. Day in, day out, he'd sit with his little brother Stiles and work on whatever he needed, always putting his priorities behind anyone else's.
If he wasn't there to make sure Stiles had eaten a good meal with nutrition and substance, the boy would've eaten sandwiches and take outs. Neither of which would help the boys brain progress.
Suddenly, Parker's own ADHD and anxiety were sidelined. But the blue eyed boy didn't care, his outlet was during lunch breaks and free periods.
That was until Coach Finstock saw how good the boy with no training truly was.
"We're gonna win state championship if you carry on the way you are, Park." Coach Finstock called out, placing a heavy hand onto the younger males shoulder.
Coach was a proud man of how far the Stilinski teen had come in such a short amount of time, almost fatherly proud since his own couldn't come to his games. That definitely didn't mean he got any special treatment though, it meant he was placed under more scrutiny; being the Sheriffs son and all.
"Your brother here tonight?" He asked, but Parker just shook his head in response.
Stiles was with their grandparents for a few hours, enough time for Parker to win the game and get changed before Stiles went to see their mom.
"Nah, he's with my grandparents, they're gonna visit my mom whilst the match is on."
Coach hadn't much of an idea about Parker's home life, or anyones life actually- he just knew that things weren't getting any better. Most, if not all, of his teachers knew that too. Now that was a slight excuse for special treatment but the boy never played into it.
As Coach started his usual monologue he had lightly borrowed from a movie, Parker drowned it out- focusing completely on his breathing. Calming himself down was the easy part, but remaining in such way? Now that was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
"Still here old boy?" Peter Hale, Parker's closets friend, called out from the locker room door.
Parker was almost a whole year younger than Peter was but the worry lines and grey hairs spun a whole different story. The nickname had stuck and no matter how hard the Stilinski tried to shake it, it just wouldn't budge. Accepting his fate was easier than arguing with a grumpy wolf man who had more anger issues than Parker had concentration issues.
