Chapter Text
Stiles wanted it bad. And that's how things get out of hand, isn't it? That's how people get their hearts broken.
He was eleven the first time he realized he needed Scott's approval more than anything in the whole world. Mrs. Jones had told them to write a composition on the things they thought mattered the most to them. One of those silly assignments teachers ask kids to do when they can't think of anything better to grade them on. It wasn't Mrs. Jones's lack of creativity to blame, though. It wasn't anything but Stiles' injured spirit, which was yet to be swept away.
“One of the most important things to me”, Stiles said, standing in front of the class, holding the crumpled piece of paper in one hand, trying as hard as he could not to sound as nervous as he felt, “is Burger King Coupons, because you can get two original chicken sandwiches and two small french fries for $4,99 and my dad thinks that's a great deal, so every weekend he takes me out for fries and we eat in the car and listen to Johnny Cash.”
There were some giggles, of course, followed by some shooshing from Mrs. Jones. Part of Stiles had meant for it to sound a bit funny, he couldn't resist it, but part of him knew that was actually the most honest thing he'd ever written on a school paper.
“Go on, Stiles.”, the teacher said, glancing at him, pitifully.
Stiles took a deep breath, taking a glimpse at Scott, who just smiled at him, earnestly.
“Burger King was founded in 1953 in Jacksonville, Florida. It has expanded from a basic offering of burgers, French Fries, sodas, and milkshakes to a larger set of product offerings. In 1957, the Whopper was the first major addition to the menu.” Stiles began to explain, proudly, as the students glanced at each other, confused. That didn't catch his attention at all, as he continued. “It has since become Burger King's signature product.”
He then began to describe, in detail, how the company had developed in the last fifty years, thanks to the golden age of advertising in the beggining of the 1970s, leaving a dumbstuck Mrs. Jones behind as he finished, thanked the class, and returned to his seat.
Not that he'd noticed the concerned and mild shock on her face. In his head, he had nailed it. It'd still take his father and the school board (and himself) a couple of years to actually realize his ADD.
Scott was up next and he seemed even more anxious than Stiles. He had always been a responsible student, always eager to please and do his best when it came to school assigments and sports. That obviously did not mean he always succeeded (he was a disaster, most of the times). It just made Stiles admire him a lot.
“Whenever you're ready, Mr. McCall.”, the teacher said, trying to get him going. Scott always felt a minor panic attack rising the first ten seconds in front of the class. He looked at Stiles, who gave him two thumbs up in encouragement.
“Ah, I… Yes, I… Yeah, the important thing, ahn, the most important thing for me is my mother because she makes me breakfast every morning and helps me with my Science homework even when she's worked two shifts and I know she's really tired. Ahn, and she lets me and Stiles play videogames till late on weekends.”
Stiles grinned at him at the mention of his name, winking playfully at his friend. Mrs. Jones seemed more than pleased with Scott's presentation and he went on about the other smaller things which meant something to him.
Later that same day, in Stiles' bedroom, Scott turned to him dead serious, putting his controller down in the middle of a game.
“I'm sorry.”
“What's the matter?” Stiles asked, turning his head to Scott and back to the screen, in confusion.
“About what I said in class, my composition.”
Stiles opened his mouth, just to find he had nothing to say, for a change.
“Dude, what are you talking about?” he asked, putting his own controller down. He always got antsy when Scott talked like that.
“I didn't mean to keep talking on and on about my mom, I mean, I know it's been less than a year since your mom...”
“Dude! Were you seriously freaking about that since this morning?” Stiles had the most incredulous look on his face.
“I-I.. didn't want to make you feel bad, that's all!”
“Dude!!” Stiles threw his hands in the air, shaking his head as he got up and started pacing around the room. “That… I don't even know what to tell you! Of course you didn't make me feel bad, I hadn't even thought about it till you said it just now!”
“Oh. Well, I'm glad, I mean…I also wanted to say I'm sorry I didn't mention you as one of the most important things in my life, I just thought it would be awkward, but… you know you're right on top of the list, right?” Scott asked, tentively, seeming really worried.
And that's when it hit Stiles. Right in the middle of a regular summer afternoon at the age of eleven.
He needed to hear that. That is, he didn't really need to hear that, that was ridiculous, of course he knew he and Scott were best friends, of course he knew Scott liked him, of course he knew he mattered to him, he didn't have to say it to the whole freaking class.
Thing is, he needed Scott to say it to him. And he shouldn't feel that way, so vulnerable, so touched by his best friend's words. Scott could be so honest and pure sometimes, and in Stiles's childish mind, that realization wasn't clear in words and thoughts, but in a feeling that twisted inside him, letting him know how much that boy standing there meant to him.
Maybe he could, some day, come to deserve that love.
Stiles was on the verge of crying, which would be the most dreadful thing an eleven-year-old could do right in front of his buddy, for no apparent reason. As would going for a hug, for that matter.
So he did what seemed to be the safest course of action right then. He punched Scott in the arm, faking a laugh, right before taking a deep breath, pushing those tears back inside.
“Thanks, buddy! You're on my list of important things too. Right there with Burger King's fries.”