It's the calm before the storm. The other shoe just dropped. Stiles sat staring at the floor in the doctor's office waiting for his dad to finish asking questions. It's not easy being the one who can fight off an Alpha werewolf with a baseball bat only to have this happen to him.
Stiles couldn't hear what the doctor was saying. He couldn't focus on anything other than the pounding of his heart. After everything, he thought he had beaten it. He didn't have to do radiation or chemotherapy anymore. He was able to regulate it with pills. He was able to finally grow his hair out. The buzz cut was a good look on Stiles, but having hair that he can comb like everyone else did wonders for his self-esteem.
Stiles fidgeted and tried not to contemplate the outcomes of what the doctor was saying. It was back. After being in remission since the spring of his sophomore year, he had his whole life to look forward to. Then the alpha pack showed up and caused so much chaos. Taking his pills daily was something he was used to. But after what happened at the Motel and losing his pills, Stiles was afraid to ask his dad for some more. They were expensive.
So Stiles had spent the better part of two months not taking his pills. He thought waiting for the next prescription refill wouldn't do anything. He was in remission after all. How could that do so much damage to him? Stiles closed his eyes and felt the tears filling up in his eyes.
How could he ever look at his dad again? Or Scott? God, Scott didn't even know he was sick. No one in the pack knew. That was the promise he made his father make so that he wouldn't be that kid. The kid whose mom died of cancer, only to have him following in her footsteps. 8 years of oncologists and pills and radiation treatments and side effects of everything. 8 years of battling everything only to be told he was fine.
Until today. Today was the worst day of his life.
Stiles nearly jumped when he felt his father's hand touch his. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked at his dad.
"I'm so sorry, dad," he barely whispered. His dad had on a sad smile as he wiped Stiles' tears from his cheeks.
"It's okay. We'll figure something out. We'll get past this somehow," his dad promised before he pulled Stiles into a hug. Stiles felt overwhelmed as his body shook with silent sobs, tears flowing from his eyes.
Not once did the sheriff shed a tear. He just held his son for as long as he needed. There would be a time for his tears, but it is not today.
Stiles sat down at his desk staring blankly at his computer. He wasn't needed to research anything for the pack in a long time. His fingers and brain were itching for some kind of supernatural baddie to show up so that he could focus on anything else. Anything would be better than researching the one thing he had dreaded all his life.
He glared at his Google search bar. "How to tell your best friend that you're going to die like that girl in that movie from years ago?"
Not his best Google-fu, but at least it was something.
Stiles glanced up at his dad who looked like he had been standing in his doorway for a while. Stiles just bit his lower lip as he felt the tears fall down his cheeks. He didn't know what to say. For the first time in his life, he didn't want to say anything at all.
His dad cleared his throat and moved over to him. As he crouched down, the sheriff took Stiles' hand. "I know that this is a lot to handle right now, son. If you want to stay home today you can. I'll call the school—"
"To tell them that I'm home sick?" Stiles whispered sarcastically.
The sheriff looked down and shook his head slowly. "I could always say you have explosive diarrhea," his dad tried to joke. He gave his son a small smile.
Stiles gave his dad a watery smile, "If only."
The sheriff took a deep breath before he patted his son on the shoulder. "Whatever you need, Stiles, just tell me. The doctor will have information for us soon for treatments. We'll figure something out."
Stiles nodded. He watched as his dad left the room and waited for the sheriff to drive out of the driveway before he threw his chemistry textbook across the room.
Stiles wanted to scream or shout or hit something. He wanted to do anything else but sit here and think about what this means to him, to his dad, to his friends, and to quickly disappearing future. He didn't want to listen to the doctor who said his best chance was to go to Germany for an experimental treatment. Experimental, ha! Experimental meant expensive and he was not going to use his last few months on this Earth causing his father to go bankrupt.
So how was he going to spend his last few months? Stiles wiped his face with his shoulder before he picked up a pen and his notebook for chemistry class. He could always make a list.
Stiles stared at the blank piece of paper for the better part of ten minutes before his phone buzzed alerting him of a text message.
Dude, where r u? Class in 15.
School. Stay home and veg in front of the tv or laptop all day. School where he could pretend for a little while that he wasn't sick, where he could see his friends. Home where he could curl up into a ball and cry himself to sleep. School it is.
Stiles shook his head and quickly sent a message back saying he was on his way. He sent off a second letting his dad know he was heading to school. There was no point sitting at home when he could be at school learning about stuff that he will never use in the future. Stiles smiled softly. This was the first time that he could legitimately state that to Mr. Harris who couldn't dispute it.
He didn't have a future. Stiles gathered up his things, including the scuffed up chemistry textbook before heading downstairs and out the door to his jeep. He threw everything into the backseat before flooring it to school.
It's not like his dad was going to pull him over for speeding.