There is a moment in everyone's lives where they question their existence – the existential elephant in the minds of human beings as a whole.

It's usually just a fleeting thought, something no one wants to think too hard on since the answer is beyond comprehension… Unfortunately for Stiles, this question comes into play on a near daily basis.

It started when his mother began to deteriorate before his eyes. He could still remember the blank look she gave him on the day she passed. The look that showed complete lack of recognition for him – her only son. It haunted him to this day.

If he could, he would have taken years off of his life and given them to his mom, just to have her around a bit longer. Even just one day of dancing around the kitchen, flour clouds billowing around them as they attempted to bake.

"Mama loves you." She used to coo before tucking him in at night, "I'll always be with you."

After she had died, Stiles used to go to the cemetery while his dad was at work. He'd yell, scream, and cry at her stone, "You lied!" He'd sob, "You're gone."

He stopped frequenting her grave after he'd fallen asleep beside her stone and his dad put out a BOLO on him. She wasn't there, so there was no point in visiting.

His dad's constant worried looks lessened after he'd met Scott. Scott was like a literal ball of sunshine and rainbows, pushing the darkness out of Stiles' vision for a time.

Then, like all things in his life, everything went to shit.

Which takes him to the present…

"The bite is a gift." Those words echoed in his head as Stiles was bum rushed by a rival alpha, his temple colliding with the tiled wall.

He groaned, pulling himself up, "This is my life." He muttered sarcastically, staggering over to his bat that had flown to the other side of the room.

Scott flashed his newly red alpha eyes, sprinting across the room in a flash. Stiles was pulled back by the nape of his neck, out of the way. Derek pressed past, advancing on the beast.

He tried ignoring the tingling sensation on his skin.

Stiles swung his bat at the beta about to lunge at Derek's back, earning a harsh blow back that rung through his bones. Golden eyes glared daggers at him, causing shivers to run down his spine as he took a cautious few steps back.

Clumsiness being his middle name, he – of course – had to trip over the locker room bench, knocking his head into the lockers this time with a resounding clang that distracted Scott and Derek.

He managed only to see Scott's annoyed face before blacking out.

Normally his nights were restless and plagued with nightmares… but the nothingness of being passed out was a little too blissful. It was like nothing existed – like he didn't exist.

Fuck. He was going to that place in his mind again. The place he held behind lock and key.

"I know you're awake."

Stiles vehemently refused to acknowledge Scott's voice. He just wanted to enjoy the blackness again…

"Stiles." His eyes peeked open on their own accord, somehow unable to ignore the second voice. Derek's eyebrows were furrowed – as usual – but there was a slight downturn of concern there too.

Scott on the other hand looked pissed, "Dude." He started, voice too loud, "Like, were you even trying? You could have gotten us all killed!"

Immediately going on defense, Stiles' fired back with as much sarcasm as he could muster, "My bad. Totally should have ignored the concussion from being flung into a tile wall, Scott." Stiles shifted on the bed, uncomfortable under the increasingly irritated alpha's stare. He had no right to be so angry. Stiles had been risking his very human life to help the pack – hell, he's been risking his life for years! Give him some credit.

Scott rolled his eyes, "It's not a joke, man." He pursed his lips, crossing his arms across his chest, "Maybe…"

Stiles tensed, "Don't." He shook his head, causing more of a headache, but he didn't care, "Don't you fucking dare, Scott."

Derek stepped forward a bit, "Scott-"

"No, Derek. You saw what happened today. We can't defend ourselves and protect him." He sighed, "I'm sorry, Stiles. I just think it's best if you didn't come with us from now on… I mean, you can still help out with research and-"

"Get out." Stiles could feel his stomach drop, a single tear falling onto his cheek that he didn't bother wiping off.

Scott – the dick – had the nerve to look distressed, "You're not kicked out of the pack-"

He turned on his side, "Please just, just go."

Scott didn't understand. He didn't know that Stiles needed this. He needed the action, the motivation of saving people and doing something with his life. If he didn't have this, he didn't know what to do. Stiles had no back up plan, always assuming he'd just end up being a casualty of battle. Ironically, being a part of the pack had curbed his vaguely suicidal ideation.

He heard Scott leave, but he sensed he still wasn't alone. Derek lingered a bit longer before moving towards the door as well. Stiles turned his face into his pillow, biting back a sob.

A warm hand rested on his shoulder for a moment before it was gone and then the door clicked shut.

He worked to pull himself together before his dad showed up.