The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot

Stiles was going back to school for the first time since they managed to get rid of the nogitsune. He hadn't really talked to any of of his friends for a few weeks. Not that he blamed them. They were all grieving in their own way and Stiles understood that they probably didn't want to see much of anyone for a little while, much less him... Stiles didn't even want to see himself. Although the demon was gone and he was no longer technically dying, he still wasn't sleeping. Not because of nightmares- though he was under no delusion that he had somehow been blessed by their absence. He was avoiding them. It was just that every damn time he closed his eyes, all he could see was darkness. Complete and total darkness. It was so absurd, how something he used to be so used to- something he never even thought about- was now the cause of his insomnia. He took it for granted before. He wished he could go back to then.

It seemed that the bruises under Stiles' eyes had only grown darker, more prominent, after they got that thing out of him. He couldn't stomach more than a few bites at each meal, something his dad noticed but never commented on, and it was taking its toll on his already thin body. Stiles looked more possessed now than he did when he actually had been. He took one look at himself when he woke up and threw a towel over the mirror.

When he got to school, he wasn't surprised when he didn't find Lydia and Scott waiting for him at his locker like usual. He wasn't expecting them to. And honestly, Stiles didn't feel like dealing with the impending wave of guilt he would feel when he saw them. Not yet. They had both lost someone so important to them. Scott lost his first love. He held her in his arms as she slowly let the life leak out of her. And Lydia. God, Lydia. Allison was her best friend. She had loved her more than anyone. Not to mention she lost her not-quite boyfriend right after.

And it was his fault.

He would avoid himself, too, if only he could.

Too bad it wouldn't last. Lydia was in his second period class, not to mention lunch. Oh God, lunch. How the hell were they supposed to sit and eat together like nothing was wrong? A whole lot of somethings were obviously so fucking wrong- so irreversibly wrong- and they would never be right again. You can't just play that off. But looking around, Stiles realized that they wouldn't have to. There seemed to be a dark blanket covering the school; there was none of the normal chattering or horseplay. Everyone was suffocating. Stiles had honestly forgotten that Allison had had friends outside of the pack. A lot of friends, actually. And even those who didn't really know her knew of her bright smile and lively laugh. A laugh that would never be heard again.

Stiles just needed to stop thinking. He was starting to feel the beginnings of a headache. He needed to remind himself that he wasn't the only one suffering the losses. With a silent sigh, he walked into his first period class.

***

Class passed quickly, fortunately. Maybe this whole day would be over before he knew it. But then he entered second period and saw Lydia sitting by the window. She looked immaculate, as always, but her eyes were nothing like they were just a few weeks ago. That cunning, brilliant light they used to hold was now almost non-existent. She looked tired, but only to someone who really knew how to read her. As if she sensed his gaze, she turned her head to meet his eyes. The flinch was almost imperceptible- a brief and subtle jerk of her body away from him, but it cut him to his very core.
Lydia tried for a smile, and it was a brave attempt, really... but it lacked any warmth or forgiveness. Stiles looked down and sat by the door. He was out of there the second the bell rang.

By the time lunch rolled around, it was clear that none of the teachers were trying very hard to deliver a good lesson. It seemed they had given up on trying to reach a group of unresponsive students. Stiles walked slowly to the cafeteria, putting off seeing his friends for as long as physically possible. Once he got there, he bought a bottle of water, just for something to occupy his hands with, and approached his table. There were two empty seats. Stiles sat down in one and avoided looking at the other.