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Stiles is lonely.
That’s a fact that even he can admit. Mostly because he can’t deny it anymore. Which really… how much farther can he go. He’s already at rock bottom.
But some mornings, it’s harder to fathom.
His mom was dead. Spent her last moments breathing earth’s air making sure he knew she hated him. That it was his fault this happened to her. Stiles never could say anything to prove her otherwise. She left him with an absent, drunk of a father. Stiles was sure he didn’t even know he had a son sleeping just down the hall from him anymore.
Scott, his best friend since kindergarten, had abandoned him as soon as he had walked through the doors of high school. Scott hadn’t met him in the parking lot outside so Stiles could drive him home. Never texted him that night explaining why. Didn’t ask for a ride to school the next morning. A week later Stiles watched from the steps as Scott roared into the parking lot on a brand new dirt bike. Walked inside alongside a beautiful girl with a crown of flowing brown curls.
Right past Stiles. And didn’t spare him a look.
And Stiles had suppressed a sigh and walked inside. Alone amongst the masses.
He’d gone home that night, going through the motions with hot tears dripping down his face. He woke up the next day, feeling numb, in both his face and heart.
And nothing’s really changed since that morning. Though he can acknowledge that he should feel pain sometimes, he really doesn’t. When he walks past Scott during the day, it’s numb. When someone bumps into him, it’s numb. When he starts getting shoved in the halls. When someone slams into him on the lacrosse field. When he’s thrown against lockers during someone’s dangerous rush to class.
It’s all just numb now.
And try as he… well he can’t say that. He hasn’t tried to make it go away. He hasn’t done anything.
With each passing day, he’s sure that he’s slowly becoming one with the environment. No longer an individual person. Not anymore.
He’s just a part of the landscape now. Unnoticed. Unseen. Unwanted. Invisible.
He’s not sure what to do about it. Or with it. But he doesn’t know if he should.
Because surely. Surely if he was important. Then this wouldn’t have happened to him.
Maybe… maybe his mom would never have left him. Maybe his dad would still love him. Maybe Scott would still notice him.
Maybe he would still be worthy of someone.
But that obviously wasn’t the case.
Because none of those were the case. He was surrounded by people who hated him. In memory, in the stale air of his house, in passing glimpses.
So it was all he could do. Every day represented that same day.
He sighed and kept walking