Chapter Text
Stiles felt fidgety. Like he needed to do something. But he was too tired and drained from energy to do anything even though he felt like he could run several miles without being tired yet he felt exhausted. He looked at the clock, it was 4 am in the morning. He hadn't slept since Saturday, 5 am when he had woken up from another one of his very, very disturbing nightmares. Stiles had only had four hours of sleep then.
Leaning back in his computer chair Stiles sighed and gazed blindly at the beaming screen, being the only light in the room it had since a while ago, started to irritate his eyes. Though he had finished that assignment that was supposed to be in Monday morning which was a good thing.
'I should really go to sleep'
Stiles thought and stretched in his seat, yawning. He needs to, he know he needs to sleep. But those nightmares, were just terrifying sometimes. They were even sometimes just...weird, odd. The most peaceful dreams he had was when he fell, from a high height, but then he woke up when dream Stiles was about to make a bloody splash on the ground.
Stiles knew why.
He has had those dreams before. They were simple but yet more terrifying than any of the other dreams because the message was obvious.
He wanted to die. Stiles desired it.
It wasn't like he was aware of it. It had started with his dreams, and those started when Scott got bitten, only vaguely at that time though. They had increased when Scott got together with Allison, and now the pack and everything with the kanima and Gerard had screwed him up.
Not to mention school overall, and his dad's increased drinking which had lead to one violent outburst from him, where Stiles had received a black eye and once he had to help his dad, Mr Stilinski up the stairs because he hadn't been able to walk properly. Stiles dad had been so worried and anxious about the black eye the following morning but Stiles had just brushed it of and blamed it on the lacrosse, that Jackson had accidentally tackled him too violently (which wasn't a total lie).
He had started to feel left out since the kanima incident. Sure, Allison hadn't gone back together with Scott, but they did say hi, and chatted sometimes, like friends trying to fix things to make them alright. And not to mention how much Scott had started to train with the rest of the pack, he often hung out with Isaac, and a lot after school. Stiles thought, 'sure, a new friend and you want to get to know them, I'll give them some space and time'.
That was just the start of this feeling of being lonely. He knew the feeling, but now it was like a heavy weight on him. When you are carrying a bag with too many books it becomes very bothersome and heavy, but this feeling. You can't take of like a bag, it hurt inside of him. Physically. Something slowly squeezing your heart, and that grip's strength just increasing with time.
He had found out about a few things they all did without him. Pack-meetings, running through the woods(typical werewolf stuff) training and so on. Even Allison and Chris knew about those things as they had started to co-operate with Derek and Deaton to keep Beacon Hills a safe place for every resident. They sometimes helped with training, but on the Argent's part it was mostly shooting bullets and arrows at them when they felt like doing so because the werewolves were under the suspicion of strange murders.
Everyone belonged somewhere. Erica and Boyd had found their place when they got bitten. They belonged to a group they had come to like and enjoy as friends and pack despite the things that had happened. After being saved by their alpha, the oh so mighty and badass Derek Hale, and the rest of the pack, with Stiles as locator, from the Alpha pack, they knew where they belonged and they wanted to be there too. They had their place.
Stiles had always been a sort of solo person, but that didn't mean he enjoyed others companies, and he as much as any other human being, wanted a place in this world, an identity, a small group of friends, closure, contact.
It was during the middle of the summer, when he thought of it, that the crying had started. The empty feeling ad become too much for him, but the crying helped, just as it helped when he got his panic attacks. Those had by the way returned like being run-over by a truck. It was a sort of silent comfort, and he could somehow sleep peacefully after that, even though it might just be an hour or so, then the dreams would come back again. But it helped.
Stiles felt his eyes flicker, it darkened before him. He felt his stomach growl.
'When was the last time I had a proper meal...three days ago, I think?' he thought and rose an eyebrow at himself.
His appetite had decreased, and he had been getting more exhausted too, like really tired, like he could lay down and fall asleep right on the spot. Though he knew he couldn't because his mind was always railing and he couldn't really fall asleep unless his brain decided to crash on him or if he took his sleeping pills. Plus his Adderall made him edgy and more fidgety sometimes.
Stiles shut his computer and rose from his chair, though not as smoothly as he had expected. His vision got dotted with black spots and he wobbled a bit. He took his clothes of quite swiftly for being as tired as he was, and looked in the mirror.
His redish/brown buzz cut was much longer and he actually had some more hair on his head now, but it was messy, like bad messy. Stiles analysed his body. Pale skin, dotted with moles. He was tall and lanky, though thanks to his recent training and lacrosse he had gained some muscle but he could feel the weight dropping on him. He had purple-tinted sacks under his eyes that he could barely keep open.
Stiles laid down in his bed, he looked at the sleeping pills. He was on his way to crashing but since he wanted to sleep for more than four hour this time because he needed it and felt like getting away from reality for a while. Stiles downed two of them, even though that might be risky due to his current conditions, but he didn't really care. He should, but he didn't. And what was that tingling feeling, was someone watching him? Nah, he thought, just his damn paranoia. Stiles thought all kinds of things like that, but in the end more than half of it turned out to be false alarm. If it was a robber or something, he kind of just didn't care.
''Oh God I'm really messed up aren't I?'' Stiles mumbled with a raspy, low sleepy voice into the silent room.
''Derek threatens you still, though sour wolf isn't brooding as much as before, Scott has Isaac and the rest of the pack, the pack has each other. Lydia has Jackson, she doesn't really need you. Everyone has it good, and dad has Melissa and his job...he's important, everyone is in a way...'' Stiles continued his mumbling.
'I am not' he thought 'they'll do just fine without me, the don't need me. No one does, and no one ever will...''
Falling into a hopefully peaceful slumber, Stiles was unaware of his little stalker outside his bedroom window. He thought he had felt the cool wind sweep into his room but figured he had just imagined it, unknowingly brushing it of, as a certain red eyed individual, had seen and heard most of the show, and decided to make a visit.