“Okay so you’re going to call me when it happens, right? I mean you should call me, like right when it happens” Scott bounced on the balls of his feet as he and his best friend walked home. Stiles was trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, keeping his eyes locked on his feet, but who was he kidding. He had turned sixteen that day, which meant that soon his soul words would appear somewhere on his skin. Of course he’d been hopeful since the minute he woke up. All throughout the day he’d mistaken every little itch and ache on his body as the start of the daunting process to come. Every person dreamed of it, they yearned for it, those words were supposed to be a constant reassurance that someday someone out there would mutter those destined words to you and you just knew, you knew you would never be alone again. Or at least that was Stiles’ take on it. Perhaps it was the fact that on more than one occasion he’d felt like he’d end up on his own. He truly only had Scott and his father. And someday Scott would finally decide to get a life of his own, and his father… well he wouldn’t always be around.
So yeah, Stiles probably clung to the idea of a soul mate a little too much.
Scott’s house was within his sights and Stiles smiled to himself “Yes Scott. Although I don’t know when that will be”
“It doesn’t matter. You were there when mine appeared, and since you refuse to let me come over I have to settle for hearing it over the phone. So don’t forget” Scott was adamant, having had received his words just two months before Stiles, and his ears would perk up every time anyone new came his way. They were proudly out for display, wrapped beautifully around the side of his neck. He had developed a habit of rubbing them when he was nervous or anxious, they offered a release Stiles was excited for.
“I promise buddy. You’ll be the first person I call” Scott searched his eyes, looking for any source of doubt. Presumably he hadn’t found any because he eventually hugged the skinny boy goodbye. Stiles hadn’t even heard the door latch closed before he was sprinting down the street on his way home. He didn’t know what to expect, they tell you about it in school, how the words feel etching themselves onto your skin. They never tell you how you feel the first time you read those words, how you feel processing every letter and understanding that there is someone out there for you. Stiles had always felt like the outlier around all his friends, he was anxious for the person who would make him feel like he belonged.
Stiles bounded through his front door eager to get upstairs. There was no regard for anything else as he weaved through the furniture trying to get to the stairs. He just needed to make it to his room and he could finally breathe. Instead, he was stopped abruptly by his father who was already blocking off the staircase. Stiles stumbled back, looking at the man as he wondered where he had appeared from “Easy there”
“Dad-” Stiles tried weaving around him, irritation present all throughout his body language.
“I know you want to hurry up and see your words. I just want to make sure you aren’t freaking out too badly”
“What? Who? Me? I don’t freak out” all his father did was lift an eyebrow and Stiles was caving. His defensive stance fell and he relaxed his shoulders. The breath that fell from his mouth was long, and one he honestly hadn’t felt like he’d been holding in. “Okay. Yeah, I’m scared dad”
“I know you are-” he placed a hand on each shoulder looking into his son’s eyes. Stiles could see his own soul words that crawled up his forearm “you look like sunshine” his father had in fact had a sunburn and his mother was making a joke but to an unknowing person it was more of a beautiful first line and less like a joke. Claudia had been gone five years, but her words stood strong and permanent along his fathers skin. Stiles always wondered how his father went on, but had the common curtesy not to ask. His one chance was gone, how do you ask someone if they’ll try to move on. Stiles shook his head, zeroing in on his father talking once again “-but I tell you, it will be so amazing. They’re already out there, you’ve just got to remember to breathe”
“Right. Breathe, okay” Stiles twisted his neck, hopped around and loosened up as if he were gearing up to fight. The sheriff patted him on the back and finally stepped aside letting him charge upstairs.
Later that night, well after he’d gotten home and locked himself in his room, Stiles had still been waiting for the first words to appear on his skin. Stiles spent the first hour speeding through whatever homework or reading he was assigned. After that knowledge shock and still no change he decided to try and lie down. Perhaps they’d appear in the middle of the night and it would be a nice gift to wake up to. Instead, his mind raced as soon as he tucked himself under the blankets, and he ended up re-reading an old comic book.
An hour later as the clock on his beside table read close to 10pm he tossed yet another book aside and was reaching for a different one when he felt the unfamiliar feeling of a burning sensation on his ribs. He was going to ignore it but then it started to singe and itch more and more and before he knew it the noise was frightening and Stiles was sitting up on his mattress clutching his side. He wouldn’t say it was panful, just unfamiliar and uncomfortable as hell. By the time it finished he was racing to the body mirror on the back of his door. His heart pounded in his chest, ringing in his ears, and beating against his bones as he waited for the process to end. His eyes wanted to take it in slowly and savor each and every letter but the excitement got the better of him and his eyes darted through the phrase. With wide eyes and a steadied breath he raised his shirt, and isn’t ashamed to admit he cried at what was there.
“You’re a dipshit, and probably the worst person in the world”
And there it was. The words he longed so badly for, the ones that were supposed to be his lifeline to something better. That was it. And he felt emptied out with every word.
The suddenly sullen kid dropped his shirt only to pick it up again, afraid he had read it wrong. But there the words stood, prominent and hateful, and they were almost more hurtful to read the second time around, and the third and the fourth. Because each time made it more real, made it more permanently seared into his brain. He fell to his knees and didn’t even know he was crying until his father knocked against the door and opened it when he hadn’t gotten a response. For a minute he stood there, taking the view in “Kiddo, I heard some stomping is everything okay?” The tears on his face was all Noah needed to step forward and read the words himself. He seen the hurt throughout his child’s eyes and glanced to where he was holding up his shirt “Aw Mieczy” His father only used the nickname when he knew his son was upset, when he needed his father to be vulnerable. Noah hugged him a while before silently putting him to bed like he used to when he was younger. In his own way he was being caring, he knew Stiles wouldn’t want to talk, and if he let him he’d stay there in that spot on the floor all night.
Stiles didn’t call Scott that night, in fact he avoided everyone the rest of the week and sulked in his sheets the entire weekend. When he did finally tell his best friend, it wasn’t by choice. Scott had snuck in through his window after the sheriff had turned him away so many times. Stiles wasn’t even mad, he let his friend try to cheer him up and take his mind off of it.
The following Monday morning he decided to let himself forget all about it and move on with his life. From that point on he made the deal, the words would become irrelevant. He curved any questions of soul words and hid them from everyone. Stiles wasn’t sure why, but it was what he did, when things got hard, it was just how he felt better. It was easier to avoid the problem and that was that.
It wasn’t until late into his senior year that rumors of his soul words made their way around the school and Stiles cursed himself for taking a chance and showering after gym class. Like he needed more of a reason to be glad to finally graduate and get away from Beacon Hills. There were times he would visit his dad but it just wasn’t the place for him anymore. That’s why he and Scott eventually moved to New York. They had a ten year plan for themselves and that’s where it was going to happen.
Stiles went to culinary school and his dad cried throughout his entire graduation.
And life went on, just like he planned. Because that’s how it was going to be, that’s how it had to be. That was the deal.
Now, here he was, twenty-five with his own successful pastry shop. The words still plastered against his rib cage. He’d seem to always convince himself he had long since forgotten about them, that he would never acknowledge them again, but he breaks his vow every night. That part he keeps to himself and only himself. He’d rub the words never understanding why he was dealt this hand. Then in the morning he’d force himself to forget all over again, and play the person who was okay with it all.
When Stiles first meets Derek it’s by accident.
It was an ordinary Tuesday and Stiles was hard at work in his shop. It had been a fairly quiet day with the exception of a couple of wives tucked away having croissants and coffee in the corner. Graduation season was upon them and he had completed four different cakes for the high school just around the corner so far that week. Meticulously he ran the piping along his fifth and final cake for the day, putting final touches on the order when someone stormed in. The bell above the door jingled violently, initially breaking his concentration. The man slammed one of Stiles’ signature blue travel boxes on the counter sending baked goods flying everywhere, a piece or two hitting him square in the apron. With a harsh tone and veins popping at the base of his neck the customer spat out “You’re a dipshit, and probably the worst person in the world!” this was him, this was his soul mate.
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