Chapter Text
He woke up and did his morning routine, simple things, nothing major. He lived on his own and worked as a deputy at the town police department. The job made him happy and he was comfortable with the way his life was. No more teenage drama, he saw his friends as much as possible. He was living a normal life now. After a nasty break up this is what he needed. Normalcy. He hadn't had it in such a long time he had forgotten what it felt like. He walked to his jeep and drove to the station, checked in, grabbed the keys to a patrol car and went cruising around town. He saw no signs of trouble anywhere so he just drove and drove. Recently his mind was shot with numbness , he wasn't his sporadic self. His friends noticed and only asked him about it on occasion. He didn't know how to describe it. He didn't want to admit he still had nightmares, he didn't want to admit his body still hurt and he still had scars from his abusive relationship two years ago. It made him feel like he was begging for help and he hated that feeling. He was grown now, he was a big boy. He needed to learn how to take care of himself. His father helped a lot, him and Scott, were the only ones who knew about to bruises and knew not to talk about them in front of anyone. He didn't have breaks as often as he used to, he dove into his new job to make sure of that. He didn't want to sit and mope and, like mentioned, make it seem like he was begging to for help. Before he knew it, his shift was over. The day had been uneventful, unlike yesterday. Yesterday he wrote quite a few tickets. He clocked out with a yawn then headed home. Some would say his life is boring and he was antisocial but to him, he was content. He had all the people he needed in his life for the moment, he knew eventually he would be back to his old self, but two years of physical and emotional abuse really does a number on a person's personality. He pulled up in the driveway and saw his best friends bike in the driveway and saw him sitting on the porch. Scott visited him every week, sometimes twice a week, but with Scott being fresh out of medical school to fulfill his dream of being a veterinarian and trying to open his own practice, he hadn't seen him in a while. Stiles had walked up to him with a smile, his stomach filled with butterflies, but only because he hadn't seen him. "Hey there stranger." Stiles smiled, Scott smiled and pulled him in for a much overdue hug. Scott held onto him for a while, Stiles let him. In fact he almost started crying. Scott helped him out of his situation more than anyone. He even beat up his abuser. Scott got him out of there and helped him get to where he is now. He'd still be in the hell he was in if it weren't for Scott coming over that day. Scott pulled away and smiled at him, "I don't plan on going that long without seeing you again." He said with a comforting smile. "Good, I've missed you," Stiles smiled, "So are you staying a while or just dropping in?" He asked. "I was thinking we could spend the evening together, y'know maybe grab something to eat and hang out," Scott replied hopefully, "Like old times." Stiles smiled, he needed that. He needed it to be like it used to even if it was only for an hour or so. "That sounds perfect." **** Stiles woke up on the couch, his apartment smelling of pizza and Chinese food. He sat up and saw Scott asleep on the floor, game controller still in his hand. Stiles smiled. He felt like he was in high school again. Scott was going to be late for work and Stiles should be chasing the next supernatural lead. He fell back on the couch and thought of all the good times. Scott had helped him with his outlook on memories.
Acknowledge the bad ones because they help put you where you are today, but reminisce about the good ones because they helped you get to where you want to be
He thought about the time he dragged Scott into the woods looking for a dead body and getting in trouble by his dad, then being grounded for listening into his phone calls but not listening again and going out with Scott to just look for trouble. He thought about chasing Lydia for all those years. He snickered knowing that he thought he was in love with her but he didn't even swing her way the whole time.
What followed suit was the fact he thought about the bad things.
Being with his ex.
The first three months didn't even seem like an upside anymore, they were great but in the end it was all a part of long painful relationship that Stiles wishes he could forget. The hitting, choking, slapping, kicking, all of it. Any abuse you could think of was done to Stiles at one point of another. What hurt the most is that Stiles gave everything to him. His first time, his first kiss, his first date, his first everything. All for three years of pain. He was sure he almost died more than three times. The weird part was he never went to the hospital and he made Stiles hide it so well, like he had done it before and was good at abusing people and keeping others oblivious.
He clenched his eyes shut and remember reality, he chanted in his head; It's okay, he's gone. He will never hurt you again.
It calmed his breathing the more he said it. He had to do it for ten minutes at times, sometimes even longer. His panic attacks were so much worse, luckily he doesn't have them as much as he did shortly after the relationship, he thanks Scott for helping with that as well.
Scott beginning to stir was what it took to break Stiles from his thoughts. The two went to a small cafe for breakfast, then went their separate ways.
"I'll see you in a week or so, an I'll call you buddy." Scott said and gave him another hug.
"Thanks for coming," Stiles smiled as he pulled away, "It means more that you realize."
Scott smiled, "No problem bro, call me if you need me. I'm only a phone call away." Scott said sincerely.
Stiles smiled. "Scott, it's been two years. I'm better now." In the first year and a half, Stiles had continuous nightmares, he woke up screaming and gasping for air. His scars and bruises would hurt him so much so he would try and overdose. He couldn't be left unattended.
But, by the grace of God, his nightmare ceased to hardly once a month, his scars faded into barely visible, his bruises faded to non-existents.
He was truly better. He enjoyed his friends coming to spend some time with him without the pity of his previous situation. In the beginning as well, at times, the whole Pack would sleep in and around Stiles' bed to assure his safety. Now that they had aged and grown into independent adults with their own lives, things were better. Easier.
"I know, but still," Scott said in a serious yet meaningful voice, "Day or night, I don't care, I'll be here."
"Thanks buddy." The two shared one more hug, then Scott mounted his bike and sped away.
****
Stiles drove into the driveway half past ten pm, got out and entered his apartment. He shrugged off his coat and hung it up on the coat rack, then went upstairs to shower and do his nightly routine. He turned the water to a satisfying, temperature then he shed his clothes and got in. His showers were simply reserved for relaxation and his thoughts. As he first got in, he let the hot water massage his tense and tired muscles, then he began thinking about cases and his work. Eventually he got out, dried off, brushed his teeth and decided he would skip the files that were on his bed side table and got to sleep. He sat down on the bed and noticed that the files were no longer where he left them. He furrowed his brow and looked around on the floor, under his bed, around his room, and failed to find them. He scratched his head trying to remember if he had moved them or took them to the station. A noise from across the hall startled him from his thoughts. He looked out into the hallway, his attention now spiked along with his nerves. He ran to his nightstand, ripped it open and saw his gun was gone. His stomach sank. The idea of this being a prank left entirely.
Someone was in his home and now he was basically defenceless.
He darted to his closet and rummaged for his baseball bat, once again, it was gone.
"Looking for something?" He heard. He flipped around and saw Theo. His ex. The man who abused him for years. Stiles immediately started shaking.
"I remember we went to the batting cages on our . . . second date, I think," Theo pondered at the memory, "You were so good at it, I was shocked. You sucked at lacrosse, but rocked at baseball."He said, smiling at the fond memory.
Stiles remembered too, it was the perfect day. Stiles was happy that day, Theo made him happy. For six months Theo made Stiles the happiest he had ever been. He thought Theo was the one God had made for him. He couldn't have been more wrong.
"What are you doing here?" Stiles asked.
"I miss you baby." Theo replied with this look of sincerity in his eyes.
"You mean you miss hitting me? Miss fucking me when I begged you not to?" Stiles said roughly.
"Stiles, you know I never meant to hurt you. I love you."
"Get out."
"Stiles, please. I never wanted to hurt you. Things just got out of control and I took it out on you, I'm not who I was before," Theo said, he moved towards Stiles slowly, "I've changed."
Stiles didn't believe him for a second. But he would be lying to himself if he said there wasn't the boy who fell in love with Theo, happy to see him and that he so desperately wanted to believe him.
"No, you're the same manipulative monster you always were." Stiles said sternly.
"Sti, I know you don't mean that. I know you miss me, I can feel it. We're meant for one another." He said, his voice sounded so believable. The old Stiles would have already melted and run into his arm begging for him to do and be better.
"Maybe a part of me does miss you. You were my first everything, I'll always have a sick love for you, but I'm different now. I grew a backbone and you can't real me in anymore." Stiles stood his ground. The memories were so horrible, he couldn't believe he was here making all of those surface once again.
"I understand your feelings, I hurt you and I never meant it. I never set out to hurt you, Stiles."
"So all the times I almost died, all those times I could barely walk or move, and I looked likea fucking black and purple Picasso painting, was just your way of showing you loved me? You're even more fucked up than I thought if you think I would believe that now."
"I do love you-"
"You don't belat the shit out of someone you love, Theo. I let the first slap you ever gave me go, because you made me believe you were just beyond your breaking point, but then I will never understand why I didn't leave your sorry ass after the next four, then the next eight, then the next four hundred throughout three fucking years." Stiles ranted, his words like knives, as they should be.
"Stiles,please, calm down, I just want to talk and prove to you that I'm different."
"People like you only change their ability to manipulate. People like you never would and never could change." Stiles said harshly. "Now get the hell out of my house." Theo stared at him for a second, actual tears in his eyes.
"I'm sorry Stiles," He said taking steps closer to him, "But I'm not going to be able to do that." He said lowly. Theo swung his right arm across his chest and, with great force, swung it and back handed Stiles across the face.
The action sent Stiles to the floor and out of consciousness.