Beacon Hills mornings were calm as usual. The sun was just overhead; the cool but vibrant spring breeze lightly rustled the leaves of the trees in the school courtyard. When Stiles' veteran jeep stopped in front of the school with its familiar noise, the trio got out of the vehicle.
Scott's gaze involuntarily scanned the crowd.
And he saw her.
Allison Argent was standing in front of the school entrance, looking around with a gaze full of unfamiliarity as she slung her bag over her shoulder. Scott's heart pounded hard in his chest. The chaos of last night the forest, the blood, and the pain was erased for a moment. It was replaced by a single step drawn toward her.
Sean was the first to notice.
"We're going in," he said in a calm tone. He gave Stiles a quick look. "Let's not be late for class." Stiles understood immediately, nodding with a smirk. "Yeah, yeah, the McCall family is handling romantic crisis management." Scott hesitated for a moment but then walked toward Allison. Sean and Stiles left him behind and headed toward the school building.
Sean paused for a brief second as he entered the door. He looked back. Scott and Allison were talking. Scott's shoulders were tense, but his voice was soft. An indescribable unease washed over Sean. Then, without saying anything, he headed to class.
The lessons were like a blurry mist for Scott. The ringing of the bells, the teachers' lectures, and the hum of the classroom all remained in the background. His mind kept returning to last night.
And the full moon.
-Locker Room-
The locker room before practice was filled with the usual sounds of clanging metal lockers and footsteps. Scott's movements were distracted as he took off his jersey. Stiles was watching him out of the corner of his eye while opening and closing the locker next to him.
He couldn't help himself.
"How's it going with Allison?" he asked, his voice sounding overly casual.
Scott paused for a moment. "Good." Stiles raised his eyebrows. "Good? That's... pretty good." Scott didn't answer.
Stiles leaned in a bit and smirked. "Did she give you a second chance?" Scott nodded. "Yes." Stiles' face lit up instantly. "Then that's great, man!" He tapped his shoulder lightly and turned around to change. Just then, Scott's voice came. Low but clear.
"No."
Stiles froze. "No?" Scott's hands were trembling. He fixed his eyes on the floor. "The hunters in the full moon... the ones I told you about..." He paused for a moment. He swallowed.
"One of them is Allison's father."
Stiles turned slowly.
"And the person who shot me with the arrow..." Scott's voice rose involuntarily. "It was him." The hum in the locker room felt very distant to Scott for a moment. Stiles' face went blank. His eyes widened, his mouth hung open.
A single word echoed in his mind:
WHAT?
-Lacrosse Field-
The afternoon sun was perched over the Beacon Hills High School lacrosse field. The bleachers were half full; the rest of the team was lined up on the sidelines, while Coach Finstock paced around like a predator choosing its prey, twirling his whistle.
"Alright boys!" the Coach shouted. "One on one! You face the captain in turns. Whoever survives, another round!" Jackson Whittemore stood in the middle of the field. He adjusted his helmet slightly and squared his shoulders. The smirk on his face screamed that this wasn't a practice, but a show.
Sean was in the bleachers. He was standing. His gaze never left Scott.
When Scott got in line, his heart was beating irregularly in his chest. His breathing quickened, but he forced himself. Stay normal. Just run. The coach waved his hand. "McCall! Show yourself!" Scott started running.
The first few steps... were normal. The rest were not. Jackson came at him like a wall. The collision was hard too hard. Scott's body was flung through the air and crashed to the ground. As his helmet buried into the grass, laughter rose from the field.
"Hahaha!" "Did you see that?!" The Coach, laughing while slapping his knee, approached Scott. "You know what, McCall?" he said mockingly. "Even my grandmother ran faster than you! Hahaha!" Scott was kneeling on the ground. He clenched his fists. Shame burned in his throat. But the anger... was deeper.
He didn't lift his head.
"Give me one more chance, coach," he said. His voice was low but vibrating. The Coach raised his eyebrows. "One more chance?" Then he shrugged. "Fine. But this is the last one." Scott bowed his head. His eyes were no longer human eyes.
No one noticed this.
Two people noticed this. Sean and Stiles.
Sean took a step forward in the bleachers. A bad feeling welled up inside him.
Scott got back in line. This time Jackson was more serious, too. He loosened his shoulder and clenched his jaw. The coach blew the whistle.
They collided.
A sharp sound echoed across the field.
CRACK.
That horrific sound coming from Jackson's shoulder silenced the laughter instantly. Jackson collapsed to the ground, howling in pain. Scott fell too, but this time he had covered his head with his hands. His breath had turned into a wheeze.
Stiles bolted onto the field.
"Scott!" he whispered in a panic. "What's happening here? Are you transforming right here?!" Scott's voice came out trembling: "I'm transforming, Stiles!" Stiles pulled him up without a second thought. "Come on. Right now." Ignoring everyone, he dragged Scott to the locker room.
As soon as the door closed, Scott recoiled.
"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" he shouted.
The lockers vibrated. Stiles stopped but didn't take a step back. "Scott, look at me! Calm down. Tell me what's happening—" Scott lifted his head.
His eyes were golden yellow.
His hand trembled and turned into a claw. His muscles tensed. He swung at Stiles.
But he couldn't hit him.
Something stopped his arm in mid-air.
A deep growl filled the locker room. The lights flickered for a moment. The shadows in the corners of the walls shifted as if they were moving.
Stiles lifted his head.
Sean.
His eyes were glowing golden yellow. But his face hadn't changed. No claws, no teeth... there was only pressure.
Sean had gripped Scott's arm like iron. "Seriously," he said, his voice low but sharp, "Did you lose control enough to hurt Stiles, brother?!" With a single move, he grabbed Scott by the arm and threw him against the wall.
With the pain of the impact, something broke inside Scott. The growling stopped. The yellow in his eyes faded. His breathing became ragged.
He realized what he had done.
"I..." he said with difficulty. "I'm sorry." He looked at Sean and Stiles. There was fear and regret in his eyes.
For a while, no one spoke in the locker room.
Scott kept his head bowed. His breathing still hadn't quite normalized. Sean and Stiles were looking at him, but they weren't shouting or questioning him.
Stiles broke the silence.
"You can't play in Saturday's game."
Scott lifted his head. "What?" "You heard him," Sean said in a tone that was calm but not open to discussion.
Scott stood up. "I'm in the first string," he said hurriedly. "Coach—" Stiles cut him off. "Not anymore." This time Scott couldn't answer. Sean's gaze was clear. The discussion was over.
After school, as soon as Scott got home, he went straight to his room. He closed the door, lay on his bed, and stared at the ceiling. The images of the day played over and over in his mind: Jackson's scream, Sean's eyes, his own hands...
There was a light knock on the door.
"Scott?" said his mother, Melissa. "Can I come in?" Scott sat up. "Yes." Melissa entered and sat on the edge of the bed. Her face held both a mother's warmth and a nurse's observant gaze.
"How was practice today?" she asked.
Scott shrugged. "It wasn't bad." Melissa looked at him. "There's a game on Saturday. I can come watch, right?" Scott paused for a moment. "Yes... but I won't be playing." Melissa was surprised. "You won't be able to play?" "Coach's decision," Scott said, looking away.
Melissa didn't push further. She put her hand on Scott's shoulder. "These things happen. Take care of yourself, okay?" When the door closed, Scott lay back on the bed.
The laptop on the desk started ringing. Stiles was calling.
Scott answered. "Hey." Stiles' voice was fast. "Jackson was taken to the hospital." Scott sat up. "What?" "His shoulder is serious. Coach is losing his mind," Stiles said. "And... he was counting on you for Saturday." Just as Scott was about to say something, Stiles' face on the screen suddenly changed. His eyes caught on something behind Scott.
Stiles' voice dropped. "Scott..." His fingers moved quickly on the screen.
Scott behind you...
As soon as Scott saw the message, he turned around.
Derek Hale.
A shadow moved quickly.
Derek grabbed Scott by the throat and pinned him against the wall. "I saw you," he said in a harsh whisper. "On the lacrosse field. You transformed in front of everyone." Scott was struggling to breathe.
At that moment, the door burst open.
"Hey!"
Sean entered. His eyes locked onto Derek. With a single move, he separated Derek from Scott and pushed him back.
"Who the hell are you to walk into our house?" he said angrily. "And you dare try to threaten my brother?!" Sean clenched his fist.
Derek touched his chest. He looked at Sean with surprise. Then he slowly smirked.
"Watch your brother, Sean," he said mockingly. "Because he... is not like you." He took a step back and headed for the window. A second later, he had disappeared into the darkness.
Sean closed the door. He turned to Scott. His gaze was sharp.
"You won't be playing in Saturday's game."
Without saying anything else, he turned and went to his room.
Scott was left alone.
-Sean's Room-
When Sean closed his bedroom door, the tension inside the house was left behind. Without dimming the lights, he sat on his bed and put on his headphones. Music filled his ears; the rhythm was heavy, deep. Normally, these sounds would quiet his mind.
This time, they didn't.
With his eyes locked on the ceiling, the scenes of the day appeared one after another in his mind: the golden glow in Scott's eyes, Jackson's scream, Derek's cold gaze inside their home... and Scott's trembling voice.
Sean closed his eyes.
*Flashback*
His phone had vibrated.
Stiles was calling.
"Sean," his voice had said, low as a whisper, "Allison's father... is a hunter." Sean hadn't said anything at that moment.
"The arrow in the full moon," Stiles had continued, "The person who shot Scott... it was him. Scott told me today." There had been a silence on the other end of the phone. Sean's fingers had gripped the phone, but his voice was calm.
*Flashback*
Sean opened his eyes. He didn't stop the music. He stood up without taking off his headphones. The room was dim; the desk lamp was still on. He reached his hand toward the lamp to turn off the light.
He stopped at that moment.
The shadow of the lamp... had moved. As Sean's hand got closer to the lamp, the shadow had slid toward him. Not along the wall but as if it were following him.
Sean furrowed his brow. He pulled his hand back a bit.
The shadow pulled back, too.
His heart quickened.
"Don't be ridiculous," he murmured.
He reached out again. This time, the shadow fell under his fingers. Sean involuntarily touched the shadow.
It wasn't cold.
But it wasn't warm either.
It was as if it were alive.
He felt a sudden pressure in his chest. His heart began to beat fast. His breathing became irregular. For a moment, all the sounds in the room stopped; even the music seemed to recede.
Sean recoiled, pulling his hand back.
"Ah..." he said, rubbing his forehead. "I guess I'm starting to go crazy." He turned off the lamp. The room went completely dark.
Sean lay down on his bed. He closed his eyes. He tried to quiet his mind by holding onto the rhythm of the music.
And shortly after, he fell asleep.
In the corner of the wall, even when there was no light... the shadow seemed to stir.