Walls, Masks and Plaid Shirts (Book One of the 'Plaid Shirts' series)

My discovery - (Derek's POV)

A/N- once again the character of Sheriff Stilinski needs to be a dick in this story so sorry but he's an asswhole in this story. 😕Also same trigger warning as last chapter!

We fallowed Stiles back to his house. The boy had stopped drunkenly stumbling and seamed to be in a sober state. Now he just looked exhausted. It was scary, in resent days, well since I started to actually start to notice him again that is all he has looked like. A breathing corpse on moving legs. Half the time it doesn't even seam like he breathes. I feel guilt and self hatred boil up from the pit of my stomach as I remind myself how bad myself and the pack have let it get before even noticing the boy was upset, never even mind depressed. How could I have not noticed this with my Stiles, my Stiles. There was only so much denying myself and my wolf before just asserting that it was no mere crush I had on the Stilinski boy but that the pale, skinny human was in fact my mate. This also may have been helped along by the many, many, many dreams where I was plowing into him calling him my mate, my subconscious accepting it before my self. And of course waking up from those dreams and needing a nice cool shower to deal with my ummm... problems while imagining the pale mole dotted body. SNAP OUT OF IT DEREK PETER HALE! FOCUS!

My focus returned to me as Scott yanked on my arm and pulled me down so I was crouching beside him and the rest of the pack behind the fence of the Stilinski back yard. Peak ping through the gaps in the fence I could make out the figure of Stiles standing at the back door. His hand was out stretched and his heart been was erratic, his breathing shallow. Scott turned to the others, "We wait until he is inside his room then enter through his window. They are grieving today, I think it is best to leave Mr Stilinski to his sorrow and not intrude.". Scott spoke surely, he wanted to respect the man whom he thought of as a second father, the man he cared so much and respected by leaving him in peace to morn his wife.

Stiles just stands there deep in thought, a whole array of emotions pouring off of him it is hard to pin point the different once but he seams... anxious, a different anxiousness to what he normally has. Boyd whispers beside me and the rest of the wolves (and kanima) turn to him, "Is it just me or is Stiles scared to go into his own home?". The question catches me of guard, he does smell scared but what of, it just doesn't make sense, non of this makes sense. How has stiles managed to wear all this pain under multiple layers throughout the years. From what we could work out he has been on various different medications for various different mental illness through out the past ten, yes ten years of his short life. It just doesn't make sense that he has managed put on such a complex max that he had evaded detection of those closest to him. Well Stiles, it's time to take off that mask. At the door Stiles takes a deep breath and twists the knob walking into his house. We get up form our hiding place and scurry over to the corner of the garden below his window, giving us a perfect view (and hearing range) to see Stiles gazing at his fathers who sits facing w
Away from him at the kitchen counter.
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Stiles once again just stands there waiting. Thinking. Beside me Scott shifts nervously, he to is unnerved by the smells wafting from the house, the sadness, depression, Stiles' fear and the strong smells of alcohol permitting not Stiles anymore but from his father. Just as the tension becomes unbearable and Isaac beings to move to get up the Sheriff speaks, "I thought I told you not to come home today". I shoot a questioning look at Scott, the rest of the pack follow my lead. Scott looks pale. "I... I don't understand?", the question in this voice creaks a crease between my brows. Why, why would the Sheriff kick Stiles out, today of all days, they have always had such a close relationship. Stiles face looks like he has been slapped and he takes a step back towards the walls, recoiling as if on instinct. " I ummm.... I just wanted to sleep in my own bed". Stiles reply is stuttered and to my surprise it is Jackson who whimpers. From our hiding place I watch in horror as the sheriff balls his fists that are resting on the counter.