The promise

Scott had always been wary of his wolf side. It was a part of him that he struggled to control, especially during his first full moon. But today was different, he didn't feel himself transforming, rather, he felt an overwhelming sense of anger and aggression boiling within him. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his breathing became laboured.

Stiles, his best friend, was helping him into the room, oblivious to the danger he was walking into. Scott tried to focus on his breathing, but the smell of Stiles's fresh blood and the sound of his heart beating and pulsing was driving him crazy. The wolf in him was getting stronger, and Scott could feel himself losing control.

He growled, low and guttural, as he clenched his fists. His eyes glinted with an animalistic fury, and his teeth elongated into sharp fangs. Stiles looked up, startled, and took a step back, sensing the danger.

'Oh shit I'm gonna die.' Stiles lamented, as he walked backwards falling over and almost crying.

Stiles didn't get enough time to react as Scott was on his tail moving with predatory steps, twisting his head as if scanning Stiles and logging him into his directory as a meal. All Stiles could do was crawl on his bottom backwards until his back touched one of the lockers.

He saw his friend hesitating for a while before resuming his chase. This gave Stiles hope, as he stood up trying to find his way out of the room that now seemed to have become a maze. Scott had jumped atop one of the lockers and locked his eyes on his prey, producing spine-shivering growls and snarls. All he could see was red, with Stiles outlined with a hint of white as if he was surrounded by an aura.

'Good Lord, save me.', was all that Stiles was muttering.

Stumbling backwards and hitting another locker, a startled and disoriented Stiles locked eyes with his friend who now seemed to be in a trance, except that this wasn't the kind of trance he wished it was. He ran around the maze of lockers, with the werewolf hot on his heels, jumping from one locker to the other, growling as he landed on every locker as if trying to command his prey to stay still and enjoy a painless and quick death.

This went on for a few minutes and Stiles deduced that his friend didn't want to harm him, but the creature in him was trying to take over.

As soon as the exit was in sight, Stiles made a run for it, not bothering to find out where his pursuer was. Scott leapt to the entrance of the exit, preventing Stiles from escaping. Looking around for anything he could use to protect himself or distract his predator for the time being, he spotted a fire extinguisher right beside one of the lockers close to where he was. Thanking his lucky stars, he grabbed and it weighed more than he had anticipated, resulting in it falling to the ground, dragging his arm with it.

Instinctively, Scott jumped at him and after several fumbling and clumsy attempts, he managed to aim at Scott who was just a few leaps away from him and squeezed the handle, releasing the condensed gas.

Scott waved his hands in front of him growling and snarling as he tried to shield his face from the cold, stinging gas. He stepped back and tripped over a bench. Stiles used the opportunity to step just out of the room where he rested his back against the closed door.

Moments passed and Stiles couldn't hear any activity from the room. He knew how dangerous it was going back into the room, but he proved the saying 'curiosity killed the cat' right, deciding to check it out.

***

Scott knew he had to regain control. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, under the running water of the showers. It was a struggle, but he managed to calm himself down.

He opened his eyes, and his eyes were back to their natural dark brown colour as his wolf side had retreated. He was back in control, but the experience had left him shaken. He looked at Stiles, who was now standing cautiously, ready to defend himself with the extinguisher if needed.

"Sorry," Scott said, his voice hoarse. "I don't know what came over me."

Stiles nodded, but Scott could see the fear in his eyes. He knew he had to make it right. He stepped out of the shower range and approached him slowly, trying to show him that he was no longer a threat. Stiles took a step back, raising the extinguisher as if to warn him, but Enibs persisted.

"I promise I won't hurt you," he said. "I'll leave if I feel myself losing control again." He finished as he sat on bench to dry himself.

"You tried to kill me," He panted said throwing the extinguisher aside."

"As I told you, it's the anger, your pulse rising is a trigger. Did you even read the guide I gave you? It's in there." Miyah preached, kneeling before his friend.

"But we were playing soccer, a mildly violent game." Scott defended.

"It could have been severely violent if you killed someone during a game or practice." Stiles retorted, with a serious tone that made Scott feel he was getting scolded by his mom.

***

Scott trudged up the few stairs to the entrance of his home, his feet heavy and his shoulders slumped. It had been a long day at work, and he was exhausted. As he unlocked the door and stepped inside, the familiar smell of home enveloped him. It was a mix of his mom's cooking, the scent of his laundry detergent, and the faint aroma of the woods outside.

He kicked off his shoes and tossed his bag onto the couch, barely noticing the mess of papers and empty takeout containers scattered across the coffee table. He just wanted to collapse into bed and forget about the day.

But as he made his way down the hallway towards his bedroom, he heard a soft voice call out to him.

"Scott? Is that you?"

It was his mom, standing in the doorway of her room. Even in her scrubs and with her hair pulled back, she looked tired too. But her eyes were bright and concerned as she looked at him.

Melissa McCall was a woman of average height, with a slender build that hinted at her active lifestyle. Her face was framed by a mane of curly chestnut hair that fell in waves around her shoulders, giving her a warm, approachable look. Her bright green eyes sparkled with intelligence and humour, and her smile was wide and genuine.

As a mother, Melissa exuded a sense of calm and comfort. Her skin was smooth and rough and was unlined but bore the faintest hint of laugh lines around her eyes and mouth, a testament to the many happy moments she'd shared with her family even in the rough times they had been experiencing. Her hands were soft and gentle, but capable of immense strength when needed.

"I was just about to leave for work," she said, coming over to give him a quick hug. "How was your day?"

Scott shrugged, not wanting to get into it. He didn't want to burden his mom with his work stress. She had enough to worry about already, being a doctor and all.

But she could tell something was off. "Come on," she said, leading him to the kitchen. "Sit down and tell me about it."

As she brewed a pot of tea, Scott recounted the frustrating details of his day. His practice today took an unexpected turn, injuring a star player and then leaving the field. He left out the unshareable stories and could feel himself getting more and more agitated as he talked, but his mom listened patiently, nodding along and offering sympathetic words.

When he was finished, she put a warm mug of tea in front of him and sat down across the table.

"I'm sorry you had such a rough day," she said. "But you know I'm always here for you, right? Even if I have to work crazy hours sometimes."

Scott nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat. He knew his mom loved him and cared about him, but sometimes he forgot just how much. It was easy to get caught up in his problems and forget that other people had their struggles too.

As his mom got ready to leave for her shift at the hospital, Scott felt a sense of gratitude wash over him. He was lucky to have such a supportive and caring mom, even if he didn't always show it. He resolved to be more appreciative of her in the future and to try to be there for her as much as she was there for him.

Getting up to stand in front of her, Scott looked at his mom with determination in his eyes.

"I promise you, Mom, I'll try to make things better for you and Sumy," he said firmly.

His mom looked at him with a mixture of pride and concern. She knew her son had a big heart and wanted to help, but she didn't want him to take on too much.

"Scott, you don't have to shoulder all of the responsibility," she said gently.

But Scott was resolute. "I want to do more than just be your son and make you proud academically," he said. "I want to help out more around the house, and I'll try to help financially."

His mom gave him a small smile. "That's a good start, Scott," she said. "But don't forget to take care of yourself too. You're still young and you have your own dreams to pursue."

Scott nodded, knowing that his mom was right. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to do something to help his family. She pulled him for a hug, rubbing his back, trying to calm him.

'I promise, I'll make things good Mom' he whispered to her.

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