They were used to the death by now. Used to the pain that everybody had learned to accept. One pack member in particular was a little uncomfortable with it all. But it was still hard, sometimes. The little things mostly. Waking up to her making breakfast in the kitchen with soft smiles or even just sneaking into her room in the middle of the night because he couldn't sleep. And it had been a long time.
A long time to the point where Stiles should be used to coping with this particular day. It had been eight years but sometimes it got to him. Last year, he was perfectly fine, thinking once in awhile of her, but this year, his mothers death would be harder to deal with. The day happened to land on a Saturday so Stiles didn't have to worry about making up some excuse to skip school and his Dad was at work, as usual, so Stiles was alone. And to some extent it bothered him because usually Scott would offer to skip school with him so he could distract him with video games.
That option was off the table this year.
He remembered the day clearly when Scott confronted him about the accidental murder of Donovan. It almost didn't seem real, Stiles phone lying on the kitchen counter as he stares aimlessly at the device. He finds himself contemplating whether or not to pick it up and call his best friend, to tell him it was too much and he just needed someone; he needed his brother.
With a strangled breath, he grabs the phone, ready to type in the number but changes his mind quickly and throws it back on the counter. Instead, he reaches on the top of the refrigerator, grabbing his fathers secret bottle of Jack Daniels and taking a long swig. The alcohol burns his throat but he drank anyways, setting the bottle on the counter before picking up his phone again as he realizes there's someone he can call.
"Hello?"
"C-can you come over please?" Stiles stutters into the phone, his voice a little gruff and broken.
"Are you okay?"
"Please, just come if you can..." And then he hangs up, grabbing the bottle and taking another harsh drink.
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
It was over an hour ago that Lydia had received the call from Stiles and she had tried to tell him that it'd be a while until she could actually come to him but he'd hung up so quickly she never got the time. On the drive over she began to worry about him, remembering the tone of his voice and how he desperate he sounded making her foot press a little harder on the gas pedal. When she finally arrives, it startles her that the front door is slightly ajar.
"Stiles?" She calls out, her heart shuttering at the thought of something horrible happening to the boy. Lydia hesitates slightly before entering the Stilinski household, her brows furrowing as she spies a few empty beer cans littering the floor. Loud and disruptive coughing emerges from the living room and Lydia follows the sound, her concern growing with each step.
"Stiles?" She mumbles, the slender boy falling into her sight and he whips is head around with a large grin. He's completely disheveled; baggy red eyes, half empty bottle of liquor in one hand and when he walks it's more of stagger.
"Hi Lydia!" He grins, stumbling over to his friend and he trips a little, falling onto Lydia but she catches him. His eyes trail up and down her figure and even though he was obviously drunk, he knew she was beautiful. Apparently he wasn't afraid to say it either. "Wow, you look hot." He hiccups, chuckling a bit at the end and Lydia guides him over to the couch.
"What the hell are you doing?" Lydia asks while sitting him on the couch. Stiles stares at the bottle in his hand, examining it with a blank expression as if the answer wasn't already obvious.
"I... Am getting drunk." He lifts the bottle to her eyesight before taking a drink and continuing, "and you, are going to get drunk with me. Then later maybe we can have hot sex." He smiles innocently causing Lydia to raise her brows at him.
