white lies, sterek au [TEEN WOLF, DISCONTINUED]

• Chapter Five •

>once upon a time,
I swore I had a heart,
long before the world I know,
tore it all apart<
|Battleborn, Five Finger Death Punch|

Stiles

{A few days later}

We were all standing in a circle, comforting each other quietly as the priest spoke his words. It's the day of the funeral, probably the worst day of my life after mom died. Derek and Scott, and so all of my friends, are standing next to me, almost making me drown in their compassion. I get it, they want to make sure I'm fine, and that I know that if anything happens, they're here. But sometimes, I just want to be alone, stare at the sky and cry like nobody else watches.

"May you rest in peace, John Stilinski.", the priest said and moved a few feet back, for the grave to be filled with dirt. I wanted to fall right there on the ground, grab my dad's hand and scream for him to come back to me. To wake me up from this horrific nightmare. Yet, I did nothing. I just stood there, pretending to be okay, just like I did all the other days. 'Cause they feel good about themselves if you do that, right? If you act fine, they feel like they've healed you. Like they healed the wounds that're never going to stop bleeding.

"My condolences.", the priest smiled politely to me and patted my shoulder. I just nodded coldly, trying to escape this process as soon as possible. I wanted to go home, sit on my bed and do nothing. Literally nothing, as if I'm the one who's in his deathbed, not my dad. Correction; was in his deathbed.

Time passed like a blur, and before I could even realise, almost everybody was gone, heading towards their homes like nothing happened today. Like John Stilinski, sworn protector of Beacon Hills, isn't dead, and everybody is going to be fine under his watch. But no, this is not how the fairytale goes.

"Stiles?" I felt a hand squeezing my arm and turned my head, just to see Derek looking at me with those big innocent eyes of his, his soul full of sadness.

"Are you ready to go home?" he asked and rubbed my shoulder a bit. I just nodded, completely ignoring his interest and lust for discussion. He mumbled an 'okay' and started walking towards the car, his hand still placed on my shoulder. I walked with him like a robot, not giving the least of attraction for anything else than sadness. I want to be sad. I want to grieve, drown in my own pain for a while, just to feel that this is real. I have control of it, I'll be able to slip out of that stage easier than everybody thinks. I'm not gonna let his death get to me, I only need a little time on my own.

I was already in the car when I realized I haven't spoken a word since we got to the graveyard. I never said goodbye, or at least thank the people that were there for me. I just stood in silence, waiting for a miracle that isn't able at all, not even in the supernatural world. I ignored the interest that all of my friends showed today, and just sat there arrogantly.

"Thank you." I whisper, praying to God that Derek heard me and I wouldn't have to repeat my self. Fortunately, he did. He gave my hand a squeeze and swallowed the lump in his throat hard.