Protector
Even after all this time
The Sun never says to the Earth
“You owe me”
Look what happens with a love like that
It lights the whole sky
- Hafiz
When he’s four years old, Scott's dad leaves him at the park, promising I'll be right back, gotta pick something up and disappears for an hour. Used to being alone, Scott doesn't mind sitting in the empty sandbox, under a blinding sun.
He doesn't mind playing with the hot sand, letting it slip through his fingers, mesmerized by the grainy substance. When all the sand has fallen back into the sandbox, he picks it back up, and lets it drop all over again. Scott babbles and giggles to himself, liking the sand a lot, until he's interrupted.
There’s a boy squatting in front of him, curiosity in his bright eyes. Scott moves over so the boy has room to sit and shows him how pretty the sand is. There’s plenty so he doesn’t mind sharing.
“No fun,” the intruder says, proceeding to cram the sand together and harden it. Scott doesn't know what the boy is doing by smooshing the sand together but because he wants to play with him, he helps form the sides.
They laugh while smacking the sand around, swatting powder through the air. When they’re done patting it down as much as they want, the other boy claps with a squeal.
Scott is happy.
He notices the boy isn’t looking at him anymore but passed him, out at the park. There’s a woman there, pale skin and dark hair. She’s smiling and laughing next to a man dressed in uniform, a badge pinned to his shirt.
Eventually, Scott starts playing with the sand again, tickling his palms with the dust until the sound of a zipper and water leaking break his concentration.
The beautiful sandcastle is crumbling and it’s turning wet, like the ocean came up and destroyed it. But they’re not at the beach and it’s not raining.
The pale boy zips his pants back up and looks content with his work. The castle is a mushy pile now and seeing it forms tears at the corner of Scott's eyes.
The boy peed on the castle that they built. He messed it up even though they worked so hard together. It’s not fair.
Not long afterwards, a shadow looms over their sunny spot because the dark haired woman is hovering over the two toddlers, gasping.
“That wasn’t nice at all, Stiles,” she lectures, upset, picking him up roughly. Even though she’s mad, Stiles is grinning from ear to ear. He nuzzles into her neck and yawns.
She takes him away.
And Scott is alone again.
Every other afternoon, Scott's dad leaves him at the park while he runs his errand and the boy from the sandbox shows up once and a while too. The boy introduces himself as "Stiles" and Scott forgets about the sandcastle incident, instantly warming up to him. They babble and throw their hands around to communicate, laughing at whatever they find funny, not bothering much with any of the other kids.
Before the daylight is spent, Stiles inevitably acts up, pushing other kids off the playground, and his mom will undoubtedly come grab him. Scott thinks it's weird because whenever Stiles is bad, she picks him up and he always smiles, like it's the best thing in the world to get in trouble.
Whenever Stiles' dad is there - Scott remembers him as the cowboy - and Scott's dad shows up to take him home, the two end up in an argument. It ends with Scott's dad roughly dragging him home and slurring words at Scott like he can't tell me how to raise you or I'll drink if I wanna drink. Things that Scott can't possibly understand.
But when his dad yells no more of that damn Stiles kid, you hear me? Scott freezes up and then balls his eyes out.
When Scott starts Elementary school, he sits in the back of the classroom, too timid to actively talk to anyone. All of the other kids are much rowdier, already teasing and playing with each other. He hides behind his backpack, looking down at his hands shamefully.
His mom told him that his first day would be fun and that he would make so many new friends. She made him promise to be on his best behavior and to meet someone new. He doesn't know how to do that.
“Hey.”
The voice belongs to a boy in a red hoodie with moles across his cheek. It's Stiles. He’s cocking his head, invading Scott’s space to look into his half-hidden face. Scott grows embarrassed.
Scott hesitates to speak, even though they've played plenty of times in the park before. Maybe it's because he remembers his dad's words, the warning to stay away from Stiles. The memory is fleeting however because Stiles takes out a pack of skittles from his pocket.
"Wanna share?"
Scott nods quickly and reaches out to grip the bag. They both pull at the same time on accident and rip it open, spilling skittles all over the floor. The kids in class start giggling madly and the boys look at each other.
Seeing Stiles' genuine smile, Scott forgets about his dad. He doesn't think anything about Stiles could ever be bad.
In second grade, Scott has his first asthma attack.
It’s a humid day so he isn’t supposed to be outside for recess, not running around at least - for asthma reasons - but Stiles wouldn't stop annoying the teacher until she let him go. He'll be okay. I'll watch him.
Now Scott’s suffering the consequences. He’s wheezing, hunched over and coughing all over the ground, unable to catch his breath. His head is swimming and the other second graders become blurry objects around him. Some of them are screaming and some are just staring. Finally a kid yells for a teacher - that's Lydia - and another kid appears at his side, rubbing his spine.
That's Stiles.
But Stiles is supposed to be playing baseball on the field with the other boys - he told Scott it would be real quick and that he would play with him right after - but Stiles is here instead, patting Scott’s back gently. If it weren’t for the blood rush to Scott’s ears, he might catch what Stiles is trying to say. Scott’s eyes are watering and he’s going faint until something familiar is pressed against his lips.
It’s his inhaler.
And Stiles is the one holding it.
A few puffs of air and Scott can feel the tingle coming back to his body. His brain whirls a little less and he pants a couple more times before easing back down to Earth.
Back to the burning asphalt and the chalk dust going up his nose and to Stiles’ grass stained face.
“You’re okay, buddy,” Stiles assures him. He doesn’t sound like a second grader. It’s the voice of someone older, like the words were stolen at some point and are being reused for Scott.
It’s the first time Scott hears Stiles’ voice wobble. The only second grader to get in a fight this year and he’s on the verge of crying.
The attack subsides and Scott forgets to thank Stiles but that’s okay. The teacher is there now with the school nurse and they check Scott, speaking to each other in hurried whispers. He hears the words hospital and emergency. The nurse is glowering at the teacher, blaming her for the incident - but Scott isn’t paying attention.
He notices Stiles’ face screw up at the words- as if they announced Santa Clause wasn’t coming to town this year. Scott only knows what a hospital is because his mom works at one. Maybe Stiles' mom works at one too? When Stiles catches Scott looking, his expression flickers back to normal as quickly as it came and he squeezes Scott’s shoulder in reassurance.
In the end, the school nurse decides the inhaler helped enough but forces Scott back inside. The teacher puts both boys in timeout once the nurse leaves and they don't see how that's fair.
But Scott thinks it's okay.
Because Stiles is with him.
On a Friday afternoon, Scott’s mom drops him off at the Elementary school, landing a quick kiss on his cheek. He returns it and hops out, running into Stiles getting off the bus. They immediately start talking about comics and video games, getting into a debate over their favorite superheroes.
The argument lasts the entire day, annoying half the kids in class who tell them to shut up. Stiles doesn't get the hint or doesn’t care and rambles to his heart’s content but Scott doesn’t wanna talk anymore because one kid tattletales.
“Spider man is the best! He doesn’t need super strength to save people!”
Scott doesn’t reply this time and Stiles frowns, leaning over their table.
“Scott?”
Scott shrugs, scribbling on the addition problems due at the end of the day. Stiles squints, skeptical, and crosses his arms.
“Who cares about that?”
“I do.”
“But it isn’t fun. Let’s do something fun. Come on.”
Scott has trouble denying Stiles but the hissy fit that their classmate had earlier has him glued to his chair.
“Scott, I said come on.”
“I’m not done.”
Stiles reaches over to take the piece of paper from Scott but he moves it out of reach.
“Stop, Stiles!”
“Why? You gonna tattletale too?”
“Do we need a timeout, Stiles?” Their teacher asks, coming up to where they were sitting. She has a hand on her hip and she pushes her horned glasses up her face. Stiles looks like he has something smart to say back but thankfully keeps his mouth shut.
“You two be quiet and do your work. I don’t want to call any parents.”
As soon as she leaves, Stiles chucks one of the building blocks over the table in frustration.
“Call, see if I care.”
Scott doesn’t know what to say.
The first night Stiles spends at Scott’s house, they’re in third grade. It’s the most fun either of them have ever had. They watch a few movies that Scott’s mom left out on the table and then build a blanket fort to tell scary stories under. Scott isn’t very good at telling them but Stiles is, going boo! at all the right places. They always end up laughing in the end.
It’s still daylight outside so they throw the blanket off and Stiles has an idea of what they can do next.
“Adventure!” he cheers, leading Scott to the backyard.
There’s a forest behind the house and Stiles explains that they’re going to go look for monsters. Scott's stomach curls and he doesn't like that idea but doesn't want to disappoint Stiles so he's quiet. It's Stiles' first time over after all so he might not come back if Scott is mean to him.
Stiles runs in the house and returns with a backpack slung over his tiny shoulder and a thumbs-up.
“I got a flashlight. My dad always takes one when he adventures," he says proudly, flickering it on and off before shoving it down into the backpack. "And the sandwiches your mom made too."
They get to the edge of the woods and Scott stops, looking at the leaf covered ground sheepishly. Blends of orange and yellow and red fall from the sky like paper planes, landing in a pile by their feet.
“What is it?” Stiles asks impatiently, vamped up for their trip and disappointed at the sudden stop.
“What if the monsters are hungry and want to eat us?” Scott asks, poking his fingers together, distracting himself.
“That’s why I brought the sandwiches. The monsters won’t want us if we give them food.”
“But,” Scott coughs, “I can’t go anywhere without my inhaler.”
“Already got it,” Stiles retorts, revealing the little green and white thing from the smallest pocket. “Anything else?”
“I have to. . . Pee?”
“You peed before we left. Come on, Scott.”
Nervously, Scott follows Stiles into the woods. The trees are half dead because it’s the middle of fall and the leaves crunch under their shoes, echoing in the silence. There’s nothing magical to be seen in the woods really, at least Scott doesn’t see anything. He wishes they could go home and play in their blanket fort instead of this.
Every now and then Stiles will explain the kinds of creatures they’re looking out for. Scott nods but doesn’t understand any of it. He doesn't know how Stiles learned about this stuff in the first place. Nobody at school taught them.
A few times, Stiles gets overexcited and asks Scott if he sees that over there but Scott always misses it. By the fourth time it happens, Scott worries that maybe Stiles has a connection to the supernatural that he just doesn’t. That makes him sad.
He doesn’t want Stiles to leave him behind.
Scott drinks some of the water that Stiles packed and then Stiles does and they stumble down a steep hill, both almost crashing into each other at the bottom.
“Hey, look,” Stiles points. There’s a small creek, narrow enough to leap over. Playfully, they pretend to shove each other in until Stiles actually trips and falls. Scott gasps but luckily it’s shallower than they thought so Stiles only gets wet up to his ankles.
“No nymphs,” he whines, getting out of the water. Scott doesn’t know what that is but he doesn’t like to see Stiles’ disappointed.
“Maybe there are some the other way?”
“Nah,” Stiles sighs, “They only like the water. But we might see a troll. Let’s go look!”
Going up a particularly steep hill makes Scott start breathing heavily. Stiles doesn’t hesitate to stop and help him the rest of the way. He then pulls out the inhaler and watches Scott take a couple needed breathes.
“Better?” Stiles asks, concerned.
Scott nods.
Before long, the sun is setting and Scott realizes he has no idea where they are. All the tress look the same, like they've been walking in circles. Stiles takes the flashlight out and beams it over the emptiness.
“Can we go home?” Scott asks quietly. Stiles looks like he’s going to protest but doesn’t and they start walking back the way they came.
The bare trees are starting to freak Scott out. Their limbs are curvy, twisting in on each other, and he has to rub his eyes to remind himself there aren’t faces on the trunks. It's getting colder too so he hides his hands in his jacket pockets, trying to keep on par with Stiles’ brisk walk.
“Hm. I didn’t think we went this far,” Stiles huffs, hopping back over the creek with Scott.
The sun is disappearing more and more from view and Scott swallows hard. He’s not going to cry. He has to be brave, like Stiles.
And Stiles is brave. He zaps the flashlight all over the woods, trying to retrace their steps calmly. More than anything Stiles seems annoyed that they didn’t find any monsters.
Scott shivers and shamefully drops his head. His eyes are watering. He's never going to see his mom again. They're stuck here. He's cold and afraid because the trees won’t stop reaching out at them and sometimes he thinks he sees a glimpse of glowing eyes in the bushes. Before he knows it, a little noise escapes his throat.
The flashlight beams in his face and Stiles is turned around.
“Scott?”
No answer.
“Hey,” Stiles says quickly, voice softening, the flashlight now pointed to the ground. “We’re getting out of here. We’re gonna be home in a sec so it'll be okay.”
“I’m scared,” Scott sniffs, huddling up in his jacket more. He wipes his nose - which is turning red from the cold now.
Stiles looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t. He shifts the backpack on his shoulder to fit more comfortably and then reaches his empty hand out to take Scott’s. It causes Scott’s body to stop trembling and he doesn't feel like crying anymore.
They keep walking like that, Stiles more determined and Scott less afraid.
Stiles leads them, slowing for Scott to catch his breath if he needs to, and continuing until the sun is completely gone from the horizon. Scott doesn't know how Stiles will get them back to the house now because they can barely see but that thought is interrupted when Stiles comes to a sudden stop and Scott runs into his back.
“See that?”
Scott follows Stiles’ gaze to the top of a tree and squints. He wants to see it this time, whatever Stiles can see. There, in the treetop is a winged creature with brilliant gold eyes, staring straight at them. It’s only for a second but Scott holds his breath and then the bird disappears soundlessly.
“You know what that was?”
“What?”
“A Griffin,” Stiles beams, bubbling over, “It was so cool! I mean we only saw it for a second but - seriously so cool!”
Scott gawks and Stiles squeezes his hand, pulling him along.
“We’ll be okay. Griffins are protectors from evil. We're safe now.”
At the time, Scott doesn’t know Stiles is making that up to comfort him. He doesn’t realize the bird is in reality just a Great Gray Owl. He believes Stiles. Without a doubt in the world. For the rest of the night, he holds his hand and he’s too amazed about the ‘Griffin’ to remember how scary the trees were.
By some miracle, they only walk a few more minutes before they’re out of the woods and in Scott’s backyard again.
“We did it!” Stiles yelps, running up to the back door and dropping to his knees to kiss the dirty doormat.
“Ew,” Scott laughs, wrinkling his nose. Being raised by a nurse had its setbacks in these situations.
They go inside and it’s only ten o’clock so Scott’s mom isn’t home yet. The two boys scarf down their sandwiches and go straight to bed. They planned to stay up all night on soda and candy and pretend to be asleep if Scott’s mom got home but the plan doesn't work out.
Because when she does get home, neither of them are faking it as she peeks in Scott’s room to make sure they’re safe and finds the two fast asleep on the cot by Scott's bed. It was meant for Stiles to sleep on.
But Scott ended up there anyways.
“You liiiike her.”
“Nuh-uh!”
“Yuh-huh!”
“I know you are but what am I?”
“In love with Lydia," Scott grins, tongue poked out.
Stiles throws an eraser at Scott’s nose and his cheeks pinken because Lydia walks up, her silky red hair braided neatly on her head.
“I’m picking up the book reports,” Lydia greets, carrying herself more like a lady than a little girl.
Scott takes his report out of his bag and hands it over, unaware of how Lydia’s eyes sparkle when she looks into his face. He then glances at Stiles who hasn’t moved and is now looking at anywhere but Lydia.
“Paper?” Lydia repeats to Stiles. Her hand is stuck out and the nails are painted a striking red to match the dab of gloss on her lips. She's the only girl in class that wears makeup.
“I don’t have it,” Stiles shrugs, “But that’s because-”
“We’re the only ones who read the book then,” Lydia cuts off, playing with one of her curls, speaking to just Scott. He's still looking at Stiles - who’s mouth is sort of ajared - until a few seconds of silence go by and he swivels to face her again.
“Huh?”
"You always hand in the work, Scott. You're so smart," she regards. He blushes at the praise and his voice goes higher.
"But you're smarter!"
"Wow. That's the fist time a boy told me that," she muses, pleased, and twirls around to the other side of the room.
“Lydia is nice,” Scott observes, returning to his homework, finding Stiles watching him. After a minute, Stiles goes to the bookshelf in the corner and pulls a thick book out. He opens it up at his desk, fidgeting and muttering but ultimately concentrating.
Stiles spends the rest of the day reading and doing the book report.
When Scott goes to school on the first day of fourth grade, he finds a stewing Stiles in their usual spot at the back of the class. He’s glaring across the room and Scott plops down next to him, eyebrows furrowing.
“Stiles?”
He says nothing so Scott wiggles a hand around in front of his face to get attention. He doesn't like being ignored.
“I don’t like him,” Stiles grumbles, swinging his legs under the table.
Scott doesn’t know who him is until a boy walks up and Stiles automatically squints harder.
“I’m Theo,” the kid says, about as pale and skinny as Stiles. He’s smaller though with kind of crooked teeth and the first thing he does is sit in front of Scott.
“Why were you talking to Lydia?” Stiles questions out of nowhere, subtlety at absolute zero. Theo doesn’t seem offended and answers without batting a lash.
“She lives next door to me.”
“Are you kidding?” Stiles shrieks, “You should move somewhere else!”
“Why?” Theo asks, looking to Scott instead. Scott shakes his head.
“He likes Lydia.”
“Scott!”
“Sorry,” Scott giggles.
“Traitor!”
“I said sorry,” Scott whines, hoping Stiles isn’t actually upset with him. Theo eyes the two of them and puts his face against his palm, pressing his elbow into Scott’s desk.
“Can I be friends with you guys?”
Scott doesn’t hesitate to respond with a “Yeah su-” but Stiles interrupts with “Hell no!”
When it slips out, their teacher is at the back of the class in a flash and is yanking Stiles from his chair, hissing down at him.
“You’re cursing in my class? That’s a very bad way to start the year, Stiles, very bad. This means a phone call to the Sheriff.”
Scott’s heard his mom curse but she’s always told him that it was a grown up thing so hearing Stiles say hell made him gasp and cover his own mouth in horror. Meanwhile, Theo seems amused by the whole ordeal and shuffles up closer to Scott’s desk.
“Wanna help me eat all these gummy worms?”
Scott misses what Theo says because he’s watching Stiles be pushed out of the class and a tinge of guilt goes through him. Stiles is always getting into trouble. He’s either too loud or too whiny or the other kids think he’s too annoying. How come everyone has to pick on him?
Stiles is gone now so he sighs and tries to listen to whatever Theo is talking about. He never noticed before but it’s hard to pay attention to other kids besides Stiles. None of them are as interesting.
"No, thank you. I like skittles more."
Before too long, Stiles comes back, blank expression painted on his normally colorful face. His eyes are bleak, his shoulders slumped, his lips thin. He doesn’t say a word to Scott or Theo and grabs his backpack, down casting his eyes before he leaves.
No, wait, Scott thinks, This isn't right.
Scott’s seen Stiles get into trouble so many times. Over most things he does, like not knowing when to be quiet or not doing his homework or trying to argue with the teacher who just isn't having it. He’s never acted like this about it though, not even when he had to clean the whole library by himself.
Not like this.
Concerned, Scott runs into the hallway after Stiles and calls after him.
He waits and waits but Stiles never looks back.
“Did you get in trouble?”
It’s the first thing that pops out of Scott’s mouth when he sees Stiles the next morning. He could barely sleep because he was so curious about what happened. After all, they don’t keep any secrets.
“No,” Stiles shrugs, sliding into his desk seat. “It’s nothing.”
“But-”
“Leave me alone, Scott!”
It’s silent after the outburst so Scott fiddles with his backpack strings for a while to avoid tearing up. He tugs at them over and over until he has an idea.
“Check this out, Stiles,” Scott says eagerly. “My mom got me these.”
He was so excited to show the Pokemon cards to Stiles that he didn’t even open them the night before.
Stiles is quiet - like something is still on his mind - but he sits up, interested when Scott lays the foiled card deck on the table. The two of them unwrap the deck together - more like rip apart the foil - eyes gleaming in wonder.
“Oh cool. How do we play?” Stiles asks, excitement returning on his face.
“I dunno. My cousin says you just get all of the cards. There’s a bunch but my mom won’t get me more until I’m done playing with these ones.”
They look through the deck, oohing and aahing at the holographic cards the most, pointing out which monsters were the coolest. Scott knows that Stiles likes monsters so he’s glad to see him going back to normal.
They start making up their own rules for playing until the teacher finds them and asks that they put the cards up and do their word problems. What strikes Scott as odd is how she tells them. She says it very softly, looking at Stiles with an odd expression and promises they can have candy if they finish before the end of the day.
“She’s bossy,” Stiles mutters defiantly. He gets in a bad mood for a while but works on the problems regardless. While they're doing the work, Stiles' pencil scratching stops so Scott looks up curiously.
"I've been studying my multiplication," Stiles brags, showing Scott that he was already done.
For some reason Scott feels a tug at his chest, super happy that Stiles finished before him. That Stiles tried really hard for once. He doesn't know why.
Stiles is looking somewhere else and Scott follows his gaze. When he finds it leads to Lydia, he sighs and laughs to himself. That's why.
At least Stiles has cheered up a little.
Scott doesn’t want him to ever stop smiling.
“Let’s play more Pokemon tomorrow,” Scott tells Stiles at the end of the day, on the walk to the bus lot. Stiles kicks a pebble on the ground and nods enthusiastically.
They chat for a little while until Scott’s mom shows up. She parks close by and rolls the window down, beckoning her son over. Scott can see she’s still wearing her scrubs and knows she has to go back to work as soon as she drops him off at home. He wishes she could stay with him sometimes. She’s a lot more fun than his dad.
Turning to Stiles, Scott toys with the straps on his bag and juts his chin out.
“See you tomorrow. My mom’s here.”
“Bye,” Stiles replies as Scott turns to leave and there’s a hint of something in his voice. It sounds far off and not like Stiles at all. Before Scott gets to his mom’s car, he whirls around and shuffles through his bag quickly, pulling out a Pokemon card. It was the one Stiles admired the most earlier.
“Here, you have it.”
Stiles looks confused at first - like he’s in disbelief - before he grabs the hologram and turns it over in his hands.
“You’re giving me Ninetails?”
“Yeah.”
Stiles stares at it and then shakes his head, putting the card back out.
“But it’s a holographic one. You can’t collect them all if you give them away, you know.”
“I’m not giving it away,” Scott frowns, “I’m giving it to my best friend.”
Whatever was bothering Stiles that day must have hit him all of a sudden because he wipes at his eyes and nods, unable to speak.
Scott wants to ask what’s wrong but isn't sure how. He looks back at his mom and hopes she isn’t mad that he’s taking so long to get to the car. She doesn’t beep at him like usual, so he reaches forward and hugs Stiles.
It makes Scott want to sleep for some reason, hugging Stiles. It’s so comforting and nice, like he’s wrapped in a blanket that his mom just took out of the dryer.
It feels like home.
“My mom hugs me when I cry,” Scott explains, smiling gently, “It always makes me feel better.”
There’s a muffled sound and Stiles sinks into Scott a little bit, gripping him back.
“Mine doesn’t,” he whispers, voice cracking.
Before Scott can reply, his mom drives up and tells them both to get in. She says she’ll call Stiles’ dad and drive him home so he doesn't need to worry about catching the bus.
When they get in the car, Scott notices his mom is looking at Stiles’ in a strange way, the same way the teacher was looking at him. Like she knows something Scott doesn’t.
He doesn’t ask about it and jumps in the back seat with Stiles to make sure he isn’t lonely. Stiles has calmed down and he’s clutching the Ninetails card in his small hand, rubbing it mindlessly every so often. Watching him hurts Scott’s chest.
They drop Stiles off and on the way home, his mom starts saying weird things.
“Stiles is having a hard time, honey. It was sweet, what you did today when you hugged him.”
“What’s wrong with Stiles?”
She swallows and pulls into their driveway, shutting the engine off.
“His mom has been staying at the hospital for a while now.”
“Is she sick?”
“Yes,” she murmurs, gently rubbing the top of his head. Scott thinks to himself and then brightens up.
“You can make her better, mommy, you always make people better.”
His mom stares at him and tries to smile but it doesn’t last for very long.
“I don't know if I - " she stops and clears her throat, "You're right, I can try. Like how you tried with Stiles today. You should always do that for people, Scott. Be there, hold onto them, don’t let them give up. You can do that because you're strong and you're my son.”
Scott grins and gets out of the car, slinging his backpack with him.
“You think Stiles can come over soon?”
“Whenever you guys want,” she discloses, reminding him that dinner is in the fridge and to lock the front door behind him. Scott waves as she drives off and runs inside, sneaking by his dad who's snoozing on the couch. He gets to his room and looks at his Pokemon cards again, enthusiastically thinking of ideas for when Stiles can come over.
While he imagines how much fun they're going to have this weekend, he doesn’t know that Stiles is across town, sitting in the hospital waiting room.
With his head in his hands.