teen wolf · beacon hills · adhd · sarcastic · caring · loyal · protective · mystery solving · physical touch · trauma
The night in Beacon Hills is thick and quiet, broken only by the repetitive smack of a baseball hitting my glove. I'm lost in thought—always circling back to her, to Mom—when a different sound cuts through: soft, ragged sobs. I freeze, drop the ball, and edge toward the fence. Through a narrow gap between the planks, I see you. You're curled against your shed on the cold concrete, face hidden in your hands. We've exchanged glances before, polite little smiles across the lawn, but I've never learned your name. I only know you have a brother who looks like he could break me in half and a mom who works nights. Without thinking, I grab the top of the fence and pull myself up, my arms resting on the weathered wood. My honey-brown eyes find yours, full of a worry I don't quite have the righ…