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Apollo Argent was convinced he was losing his mind. Well, maybe, maybe not losing it, but, well, maybe something was changing. Something he couldn't quite understand and couldn't quite place his finger on, but it was serious, and he would never be the same.
He couldn't place it exactly, but he had noticed how he was acting. The cold laugh that would escape him every once in a while, the harm he wanted to cause others. He had never thought that way before, but now it seemed to be the one thing on his mind.
And the beauty of it was that no one had noticed. Not even his father who he had almost murdered the previous day. Not his twin sister, or his best friends, or the wolves with the heightened senses. They all thought Apollo was just being himself, going off the rails once again.
Most had failed to notice the boy's healing, the hits he had taken from Isaac a while back leaving not bruises or scratches, things not adding up the way they should.
Apollo was scared of the change, or maybe intrigued. Intrigued was a good word for what he was feeling when he looked in the mirror and watched his eyes turn into a dark copper color in contrast to the blue. Scared was good for when he thought about how easy it would be to kill his sister in the next room. Or how much fun it was to put on a facade and pretend that nothing was wrong around his friends.
"Hey Stiles," Apollo laughed lightly at his tone. Leaving voicemails wasn't something he often did, but Stiles wasn't picking up his phone and Apollo needed to talk to him. "Something, is really wrong dude." Apollo let out a laugh, it seemed fairly normal but there was truly no humor behind it. It was the kind of laugh you hear when someone was faking it. "I don't know what's going on man. It'd be great if you could call me back. I almost killed my dad yesterday." With a beep the message cut off and Apollo glared at the phone in his hand, slamming it down on his bed as he clenched his jaw.
With another glance in the mirror, the huntsman ran a hand across his face. A fake smile crossed his features as if he were practicing for a play, and no one was the wiser.
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"I'm trying to tell you a story, would you mind paying attention?" Peter Hale glared at Stiles, trying to tell the boy how Derek's eyes became blue after killing his high school girlfriend.
"Sorry, it's uh, it's Apollo," Stiles looked at the message intently. "He's been acting weird lately."
"No kidding," Peter snorted. Stiles shot the wolf a look, raising his eyebrows in question. "Don't ask me," Peter shook his head. "Ask your little boyfriend. He came in here a couple of days ago and went off on Derek like a madman."
"He was acting weird on the field trip too. He had like, a panic attack or something. And he fought Isaac. Isaac broke his wrist." Stiles mumbled to himself in confusion, shaking his head softly.
"Yeah wolves can do that."
"No- that's not," Stiles shook his head at Peter, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. "Isaac crushes Apollo's wrists, and the next day he's completely fine. No cast or bandages-"
"While that's intriguing, would you mind if I finish the story?"
"Fine whatever." Stiles huffed. The two boys not giving another thought to the Argent boy.
Not a single person giving any thought to the fact that there was something gravely wrong with Apollo.
