Two| tw x tmr

3.

Beacon Hills is a mess.

Even after eight years, it's still a mess.

But then a phone call is made to the Sheriff. He takes the phone, irritated.

"What?!" He nearly yells, bottle of alcohol in his hand.

"Noah. We found him."

The bottle shattered.

"Excuse me? Stop pulling pranks! My son has been dead for eight years! Let me mourn him for God's sake!" Then the tears returned.

"Noah, please. He's damaged, he needs you."

"Wait... you're not joking?"

"No."

"He's— is he hurt?"

"Physically or emotionally?"

Noah let out a tired sigh, not liking this at all.

"When can I see him?"

"We will bring him to you. It'll take a few hours for emotions to crash back to him. He still remembers you, that's good. So we'll be there within a week, for your and his sake."

"What?"

"We'll see you in a week, Noah. Be prepared. He isn't the same he used to be." And with that the line went dead.

***

Noah stepped into the Room. For the first time he stepped foot in the Room. It didn't have his son's name on it anymore, that was too painful. So instead he started calling it the Room.

He smiled as he looked around, he was coming back.

***

When he entered the school no-one paid attention to him. He had a dark, broken—oh so broken— look in his eyes. He stood tall, proud almost, as he walked through the hallways as if he had some unfinished business here. Maybe he did. Maybe it was everything he needed to do before disappearing again? Set something right?

He looked very different. Of course he did, he'd been gone for eight years. He vowed to himself not to let anyone know anything about the real him. Not about his powers, not about WICKED—

["At least you don't remember everything."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They... took a liking in you, Tommy."

"A liking?"

Newt nodded sadly. "You'd feel unclean if you remembered."

"Wait are you implying—" Newt nodded again.]

A shudder ran up his spine, he tried to suppress it, it worked— sort of. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin, especially after his whole memory came back to him.

But he was also more in controle now, because now he knows how to use his powers. He now also knows that he had his powers his entire life. Even his dad knew.

"Who are you?"

 He turned to see a girl-- Malia. He tries to loosen up a little bit, he grins. "I'm hurt you don't recognise my scent."

"I do, but he's dead."

 "Malia, it's me, Stiles," he says, pretending to have forgotten the fact that she literally tried to kill him for coming near her, after getting kicked out of the pack.

 "STILES?!" ah-- Lydia Martin.

***

*two years later*

 "OUT! We threw your pathetic ass out years ago and we're doing it again! You're useless!" 

 Stiles nods, not expecting anything different. He grabs his phone and deletes their contacts. "Concider this... me moving on."

 He walked out of the loft doors, looking forward to tomorrow at school.

 He went to his room the second he came through the door. He couldn't care less about his homework, so he went to sleep.

 When he woke up he shuddered, stupid dreams.

 He got dressed in his 'Stiles' clothes. 

 Once at school he grinned. Cross-country positions were open. The day went on as usual until cross-country. 

 He grinned as he stood at the field. Jackson walked out, laughing the moment he sees him.

 Thomas didn't pay attention to him. But Jackson made it hard for him. "Wait! No fucking way! Stilinski is trying out? HA! You're gonna lose, you brat."

 "Says you," Thomas huffed.

 "Alright Ladies!" Coach yelled. "Two laps on the 10 mile track!" everyone groaned and protested but Coach shushed them. "If you want to make this team, then I suggest you don't whine! Now-- GO!"

 Everyone dashed away, but Thomas didn't. He stretched just a little bit more, before he followed the rest.