bruised//«stiles stilinski»

Part 21

Stiles POV

It's been 72 hours. I sigh as I walk through the building, towards the phone boxes. Oliver sees me and jogs over.

"Hey, Sti!" He smiles enthusiastically.

"Sti?" I grimace at him.

"Short for Stiles. It's called a nickname." He grins. I sarcastically raise an eyebrow and nod.

"Uh huh." I answer back bluntly, not looking at him and continuing my walk towards the phones.

"Where're you goin'?" He asks, his eyes wide.

"I need to use the phones." I tell him. "My 72 hour assessment thing's over." I say, as I push past a person wandering across the hall. They let out a little yelp but I don't bother apologising.

"Oh." Is all he answers.

When I get to the phone- and Oliver's finally wandered off somewhere- my fingers hover over the numbers, deciding what to press. I dial the school. It's stupid, but...

"Hello? Beacon Hills High School, Mr Finstock speaking." Says a rough, familiar voice. I try and swallow the huge lump in my throat before opening my mouth to speak.

"C-coach?" I ask, my voice wobbly.

"Who the hell is this?!" He growls.

"I-it's Stiles. Uh, I'm... I-"

"Stilinski, where the hell have you been?" He asks, and I can imagine the pissed off expression that's probably on his face right now.

"Uh, I'm... I'm calling from Eichen house..." I whisper croakily.

"Where the hell is tha-" he starts but arubtly stops. "Oh. Y-you're in Eichen? As in the nut- sorry, the mental home?" He asks, his voice softer.

"Y-yeah. I just wanted to call to explain since I can't come to school." I say, proud of how much I didn't stutter down the phone for once despite my racing heart an sweating palms.

"Oh." He whispers sadly. The line goes quiet again.

"Coach?" I prompt.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sure. I'll, um... I'll inform the staff. Hey, Stilinski? Why didn't your dad just call?" He asks, and my blood runs cold.

"H-he... He doesn't know I'm here."

***

Derek's POV

"Why the hell would be even do that to himself?! He isn't crazy!" I think aloud, smacking my palm against the table in anger.

"Jeez, Derek! Calm down." Scott says, his hands up in the 'surrender' pose. I scowl and roll my eyes, pacing the room.

"How do we even get him out?" I ask angrily.

"I don't know..." Sighs Scott, slumping on the couch in defeat. "But we need sleep, Der. Come on." Scott stifles a yawn as he stretches out across the couch, closing his eyes.

Suddenly I yell, "How the hell can you be sleeping when your best friend is locked away in some nut house with nothing but his own thoughts where he might do something stupid-"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

I glare at my phone but walk to answer it anyway.