Stiles Stilinski + Derek Hale

A Blind Man Walks Into a Bar. And a Table. And a Shelf.

Stiles ran his hand along the piano keys. He hadn't played since his accident. After all, sheet music isn't exactly helpful to a blind guy.
He widened his eyes, as if doing so would restore his sight. When it didn't, Stiles grew frustrated as he always did. It wasn't fair that his sight was gone. He wasn't even the one who caused the car accident. So why should he be the one to pay for it?

Stiles grabbed for the sheet music on the top of the piano and began to shred it. He reached behind him and flipped the chair. He began screaming and banging on the walls reaching for anything, everything. He threw the music stands across the room, not caring where they landed. Stiles was so caught up in his rage that he didn't even hear his father's footsteps bounding up the stairs.

While he was reaching for another thing to throw, Stiles felt his dad's arms wrap around him from behind. The Sheriff pulled his son to the ground, keeping him wrapped in what looked like a hug even though it was more like a trap to keep Stiles from destroying anything else.

"It's not fair!" Stiles cried to noone in particular.

"I know," the Sheriff whispered into his son's neck.

"I didn't ask to be blind. The fucking car accident wasn't my fault!"

The Sheriff kept silent and continued to rock his son back and forth. Nothing he could say would calm Stiles down.

"It wasn't my fault," Stiles sobbed. "It wasn't my fault."

The Sheriff rotated his son so that he could face him. He used his thumb to wipe away the tears that had been streaming from Stiles's eyes. Stiles's rage slowly slipped out of him and left him feeling empty and pained.

"Son, I know there's nothing I could say to make you feel better. And I know this will take time to get used to. For the both of us. But destroying your mom's stuff..." The Sheriff trailed off.

Stiles felt guilty. His heart panged at the thought of his mother.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Even though he knew it wouldn't be his last fit, Stiles was genuinely sorry for the pain he was inadvertently causing for his father.

The Sheriff sighed, "Dr. Aville suggested a local support group that might help. I promise you only have to go a couple of times and if you decide you hate it, we don't have to go."

"I-" Stiles started.

"Just once Stiles."

That evening, Stiles and his father got in the police cruiser and drove thirty minutes outside of Beacon Hills to the church where the group was hosted. Stiles opened the door and unraveled his cane. He stuck it outside of the car and started to walk. He felt his dad reach for his arm but he shrugged it off.

"No. I'll do this myself," he grumbled.

Even after Stiles stumbled a few times, he managed to get to the basement of the church, with his father's directions of course.

"Just in time!" Stiles heard a woman's voice say.

"Today we have a new friend joining us. Stiles Stilinski."

Stiles waved, hopefully in the right direction. He felt his father pushing him forward and he reached out, realizing that he was led to an empty chair.

After he sat down, Stiles heard the lady tell him to tell the group about himself.

He cleared his throat, not exactly sure how many people were there and how they felt about his arrival.

"Uh. My name is Stiles. I'm blind, obviously. I was in a car accident and I lost my sight to a traumatic head injury. I play- I used to play lacrosse. I go to Beacon Hills High School. And I'm not really sure I want to be here."