Best Friend's Brother // Stiles x Male OC

17

Scott POV

When I got home, the anger bubbling under my skin was barely contained. My fists clenched and unclenched as I stormed through the door, my backpack thudding against the wall as I dropped it. I could hear the faint clink of dishes in the kitchen and the low hum of the fridge—Matt, in the kitchen, like he belonged here. Like everything was normal.

I wasn't even thinking as I walked in and saw him standing at the counter, casually making a sandwich like he didn't just ruin my entire life.

"Matt," I said, my voice sharp and loud.

He turned to me, startled, the butter knife in his hand hovering mid-air. "What's your problem?" asked

Before he could say anything else, I shoved him, hard. The plate he was holding clattered to the counter, and he took a step back to steady himself, looking at me like I'd lost my mind. Maybe I had.

"What is wrong with you?" I spat, my voice shaking with rage. "Was it not enough that you left us? That you abandoned me? Now you come back like nothing happened, and what? You just decide to steal Stiles from me? My best friend? My brother?"

Matt's eyes widened, and he held up his hands in confusion. "Whoa, whoa, Scott, calm down! What are you even talking about?"

"Don't play dumb!" I shouted, my fists clenched so tightly my knuckles ached. "You knew! You knew Stiles was my best friend, and you didn't care! You just... you just swoop in and take him for yourself like you're entitled to everything!"

"Scott," Matt said, his voice steady but tight. "I didn't know, okay? I didn't know he was your best friend."

"That's bull!" I snapped. "You had to know! He's my everything—he's like my brother—and now you're trying to make him yours?"

Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I get that you're mad—"

"Mad? I'm furious!" I interrupted, pacing back and forth, my hands waving as I spoke. "You left, Matt! You left me, and Mom, and you didn't care! You just got up and went to live with Dad like we didn't exist!"

"I didn't leave you, Scott," Matt said, his voice rising now, matching my anger. "I was a kid! I didn't have a choice! Dad made me go with him, and I didn't get a say in it. You think I wanted to leave you?"

"Then why didn't you come back?" I shot back, my chest heaving. "Why didn't you call or visit? You just stayed gone, and now you show up like you're some big hero, and you think you can waltz in and take my best friend away?"

Matt shook his head, stepping toward me, his expression hard. "I didn't know Stiles was your best friend when I met him, Scott. And even if I had, you can still be his friend. You know that, right? Me dating him doesn't mean you lose him."

"You don't get it!" I yelled, my voice cracking. "You don't understand anything about me, about Stiles! We've been through everything together, and now you're just here, acting like you belong, when you don't!"

"Scott, this isn't about Stiles," Matt said, his voice softer now, but firm. "This is about you being mad at me for something I didn't have control over. And you know what? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry you felt abandoned. But I'm not sorry for dating Stiles, because I care about him. And I'm not going to stay away from him just because you don't like it."

His words hit me like a slap, and I stood there, staring at him, my chest heaving with every angry breath. My mind was a tornado of emotions—hurt, betrayal, anger—all swirling around with no way to make sense of them.

"You're unbelievable," I muttered, shaking my head. "You don't even care what this is doing to me."

"I care," Matt said firmly, stepping closer, his eyes locking onto mine. "But I'm not going to apologize for being with someone who makes me happy. You're going to have to figure out a way to deal with this, Scott. Because I'm not giving up."

I stared at him, my fists clenched, my heart pounding in my chest. "We'll see about that," I muttered before turning on my heel and storming out of the kitchen.

As I slammed my bedroom door shut behind me, I collapsed onto my bed, the anger still simmering under my skin. I didn't know how to fix this, or even if I wanted to. All I knew was that nothing would ever be the same again.

—————————————————————————-

Dinner was already tense when we sat down. The air felt thick, like a storm about to break. Mom had made spaghetti, a comfort food she always defaulted to when things felt off at home. She was trying so hard to keep things light, asking me about school, asking Matt about work, but neither of us was giving her much to work with.

Matt sat across from me, every bite he took feeling like a challenge, his eyes fixed anywhere but on me. I could feel the tension radiating off him, and it only made me angrier. How could he sit there like nothing was wrong? Like he hadn't ruined everything?

"Scott," Mom said, her voice cutting through the silence. "How was your test today? The history one?"

"It was fine," I muttered, poking at my plate.

"That's good," she said, trying to keep her tone bright. She turned to Matt. "And how's work, Mateo? Still busy?"

Matt shrugged. "Same as usual," he said, barely looking up.

The awkward silence fell again, stretching painfully long. Mom glanced between the two of us, her lips pressing into a thin line. I knew she could tell something was off, but she didn't press. Instead, she gestured toward the juice pitcher.

"Scott, can you pass the juice?"

I reached for it without a word, my jaw tight as I grabbed the handle. But as I handed it over, I "accidentally" tipped it just enough for the juice to spill right onto Matt's lap.

"Oh, come on!" Matt exclaimed, jumping up as the orange liquid soaked into his jeans.

"Oops," I said flatly, not even trying to hide my smirk.

"Seriously?" Matt snapped, grabbing a napkin to try and blot the mess. "What's your problem?"

"My problem?" I said, standing up. "My problem is you."

"Scott!" Mom exclaimed, her voice sharp. She stood up too, holding up her hands like she could physically keep us apart. "Stop it, both of you!"

But I wasn't listening. I pointed at Matt, my voice rising with every word. "You think you can just come back here and pretend like everything's fine? Like you didn't leave us, like you didn't leave me? And now you're dating my best friend? What's wrong with you?"

Matt slammed his napkin onto the table, his face red with frustration. "I've already told you, I didn't leave by choice, Scott! And I didn't even know Stiles was your best friend when I met him!"

"That doesn't make it okay!" I shouted. "You're ruining everything!"

"Enough!" Mom yelled, her voice cutting through the chaos. She stepped between us, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and hurt. "I don't know what's going on between you two, but you will not do this at the dinner table. Sit down, both of you!"

I stayed standing, my fists clenched at my sides, glaring at Matt. He glared back, his chest heaving as he tried to keep his cool.

"Scott, sit," Mom said, her voice lower but no less firm.

I hesitated, my blood still boiling, but eventually, I sat back down, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. Matt did the same, his movements stiff and jerky.

Mom sat down too, her eyes darting between us. "This family has been through enough. I don't know what's going on, but you two need to figure it out. You're brothers, for God's sake."

I looked down at my plate, my appetite completely gone. Matt stayed silent, his jaw tight as he stared at his hands.

The rest of dinner was a strained, uncomfortable silence. Mom tried to start up the conversation again, but neither of us gave her anything. By the time I excused myself and went up to my room, I felt more exhausted than ever.