The cafeteria buzzed with chatter and clattering trays, the smell of fries and reheated pizza hanging heavy in the air. Scott and Stiles sat together at their usual table when Asher approached.
"Scott, I heard…" Asher started, voice low and uncertain. He shifted in his seat like he wasn't sure he belonged there. "You're not gonna… play tomorrow."
Scott looked up from his tray, frowning. "Yeah."
Asher's eyes flicked away, cheeks warming. "…Is it… because of the full moon?"
Scott stiffened. "Yeah," he admitted after a beat, then tilted his head, confused. "But why do you look so embarrassed?"
Asher's face reddened further. He fidgeted with the strap of his backpack. "Y-you see… a-a thought came to me…" His voice dropped even lower. "Are we… friends now?"
Scott blinked. Stiles' jaw went slack. Did he really just ask that?
"Of course we're friends," Stiles said, recovering first. He slung an arm dramatically around Asher's shoulders. "You saved me from a rabid dog."
"Hey!" Scott protested.
Asher chuckled under his breath, and immediately, the atmosphere shifted. Every girl at the nearest tables turned to look at him, eyes lighting up like moths to a flame. That sound—low, warm, unguarded—was magnetic.
Asher felt the weight of their stares and went scarlet, shrinking in his seat.
Scott and Stiles just gawked. All that from one laugh?
"Hey…" Stiles said, still half in disbelief. "Are you sure you're not supernatural? Like… the secret son of Adonis?"
"Adonis?" Scott asked blankly. "Who's Adonis?"
"Adonis is—" Stiles began, only for Asher to cut him off smoothly.
"Adonis was the most handsome man in Greek mythology. Even Aphrodite and Persephone fell in love with him."
Scott raised his brows. Stiles stared.
"Thanks, Stiles, but…" Asher rubbed his neck, awkwardly looking away. "I'm not that handsome."
Stiles leaned closer, scrutinizing his features like a jeweler studying a diamond. "Hmm… no. I still think you are," he muttered, inching dangerously close to Asher's face.
"Hey, guys."
Allison's voice made Stiles flinch so hard he toppled sideways. Asher dodged him out of reflex, and Stiles hit the floor with a thud.
"Whoah!"
Scott winced, scrambling to cover. "H-Hi, Allison."
"H-hi…" Asher mumbled, his voice squeaking just a little.
"Hi, Ashy!" Lydia's voice chimed in as she walked up, waving with a playful smile. Jackson followed behind, his scowl deep enough to curdle milk.
"Tch." He clicked his tongue, glaring at the table. Do I really have to eat with these losers?
"A-Ashy?" Asher repeated, mortified. His entire face went red.
"It's a nickname," Lydia said smoothly, her tone a mix of superiority and amusement. She'd taken a liking to Asher over the past few days, treating him like a little brother she could toy with.
"Ashy?"
That voice sent a shiver through the table. Everyone turned.
Erica stood behind Asher, a sly smile curling her lips. Without hesitation, she slid into her favorite seat—his lap—wrapping her arms around his neck like she owned him. She kissed his cheek, slow and deliberate.
"It's cute," she purred. Then her eyes snapped toward Lydia, sharp and dangerous. "But I think I should be the only one to use something like that. Am I right, Lydia?"
Lydia's bravado crumbled. She gulped. "Yeah, yeah… it's all yours."
Erica's smile widened. "Hmm… but maybe I should think of a better nickname for you. Because in bed…" Her voice dipped, sultry and bold. "…you definitely don't act like an 'Ashy.'"
The cafeteria went dead quiet.
Asher's face turned the shade of a ripe tomato. "E-Erica!"
The others shifted uncomfortably, caught between shock and secondhand embarrassment. Everyone except Stiles, who gave Asher a double thumbs-up.
"So our little Ashy is a hidden monster—"
"Ugh!" Scott elbowed him before he could finish.
"Ahi!" Stiles yelped, clutching his ribs.
...
Later that day, the front door of the McCall house creaked open.
"Asher, come on!" Stiles bolted inside like he was running from a serial killer, bounding up the stairs two steps at a time.
Asher followed at a calm pace. "You know the stairs aren't going anywhere, right?"
"Scott!" Stiles burst into the bedroom, practically sliding across the floor. "What did you find? How did you find it? Where did you find it?"
Scott, seated at his desk, spun slowly around in his swivel chair. Stiles's eyes were twitching in tiny spasms.
"Yes, I took something to stay awake," Stiles said automatically, preempting the question.
Asher entered a moment later, closing the door quietly behind him.
Scott leaned forward, voice low. "I found something at Derek's."
Stiles' jaw dropped. "You're joking. What?"
Asher's attention sharpened instantly.
"I found something buried there," Scott continued. "Something that smelled like blood."
Stiles started pacing, his excitement bubbling out of control. "That's—amazing! No, wait, that's terrible. No, wait—it's both—"
"Whose blood?" Asher cut in, his tone steady, focused.
Scott shook his head. "I don't know. Not yet."
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "But if we figure that out…" He turned to Stiles, "your dad will finally have a reason to arrest Derek."
Asher's eyes flickered thoughtfully.
"And then…" Scott's voice tightened with determination. "Then we'll find a way to stop me from transforming. Because I have no intention of missing tomorrow's match."
To be continued...
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Sorry if it was shorter than usual. I didn't have that much time to write today, so I opted for less without reducing the overall quality.