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@nctstiles
good news: there’s three of us here bad news: there’s only three of us here.
So obviously I’ve been looking at this information for several days now. I still don’t know what to do with it.
i’ve been looking at it for over a year. lmao.
good news: there’s three of us here bad news: there’s only three of us here.
He could sense it from miles away. The irregularities with the boy just down the hallway, they were too obvious. Sleep deprived, most likely malnourished, disheveled and…unable to pinpoint his position. Either he’d been preyed on, or was a monster recovering from an attack–or hunt. But he had a cover to maintain and a duty to follow his parents’ law. So, the locker he was in front of was shut gently, and lips parted.
“–Hey.”
Stiles turned quickly, heart thudding - he hadn’t expected anyone about, and the sound of the locker shutting ( no matter how gently ) was enough to startle him. “Hey,” he responded in kind, a little uncertain. “...What are you doing here?” Though he said you, it managed to sound more like I, somewhat of an inquiry about himself. The teenager was fairly lost, and despite trying to hide it, it was fairly obvious.
Wandering the halls, Rosalia was once again getting familiar with the High School she had once left behind. Turning a corner she saw a guy, looking to be about her again though she had yet to see his face. “You look a little lost there, any way I can change that?” She spoke, an eyebrow raised as she awaited an answer.
Stiles turned to face her after a moment, trying to concentrate enough to see her face, but he was pretty sure he didn’t know her once it processed. “I just need a minute,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I can figure it out.” He tried to read the signs around, but the room numbers and labels melded together into unknown symbols. “Just another minute.” He’d get it soon, he hoped.
It just bothered Jackson. Stiles was always so animated. “Stiles, wait, seriously, what’s wrong?”
“I’m fine, okay? I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong, I’m just . . ” The teenager trailed off, glancing at the area around him again. It feels as though it should be familiar, but it’s far from it. “I’m just lost.”
Jackson stumbled into Stiles. “What the hell, Stilinski! At least flash your brake lights before you do that!” Jackson shouldered his way past Stiles and was about to keep going when he noticed the look on Stiles’ face. Or rather the lack of one. “Dude, what are you looking for?”
The words didn’t register for a moment-- but when they finally came through, confusion flooded his features. “What? I’m not looking for anyth--” Stiles cut himself off, realising that he had little to no idea as to where the HELL he was. “ . . Forget it, Jackson. Whatever.”
his eyebrows raise as his FRIEND speaks, surprise overtaking his features. but again, he doesn’t say anything about it. “y-yeah, this way.”
“--right, yeah. of course. this way,” he echoes, shoving his hands into his pockets. “and . . remind me, what class is it? AP U.S. History?” he’s pretty far off; it’s calculus.
“Hey are you lost?” Brynn called out. It was definitely out of the normal for studens to be here this late. Yes, the blond was still here, but she was still working on a place to stay and sometimes it was school. Brynn walked over to the figure “Hey is everything alright?”
“--Huh?”
Stiles turned to face her, confused for a moment before her words fully processed. “Oh-- Yeah, everything’s . . good. Things are alright.” He rubbed at his tired eyes, doing his best to focus. “ . . Do I know you?” She was a little too in the dark for him to be able to make out her features, so he wasn’t quite sure.
scott’s a little concerned – WORRIED, to be honest, but doesn’t push because it’ll only cause stiles to become more anxious than he already is. “let’s … let’s just go to class, okay?”
“ . . class,” he repeats, lips twisting in a grimace. “yeah . . yeah, let’s.” he pauses after speaking, brows furrowing. “i-- can you . . take me there? i don’t--” it’s hard to admit, but he’s not quite sure where his class is.
Kellin heaved a sigh, leaning against the wall behind the school. She brought her cigarette to her lips, taking a long drag, closing her eyes. It was nice. The silence was nice, and almost rare, especially in Beacon Hills of all places. At the sound of footsteps, she opened them once again, cerulean irises staring upon the individual that had just approached. “Yeah, yeah– I know I should quit. I’m working on it, m'kay?” Kellin muttered, dropping the cigarette, putting it out with the toe of her Vans.
Stiles follows the smell of smoke. It isn’t strong, but it’s enough for him to head after. He doesn’t mean to disturb her, but apparently his presence is enough to throw her off, or something of the sort. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he states, digging his hands into his pockets, “except that you might want to smoke downwind from now on. I could smell it around the front, and I’m guessing you don’t want to get caught.”
“class started ages ago – i just left for a bathroom break because you weren’t there,” scott replies. “it’s just me and lydia – we would’ve called the others if i hadn’t found you.” first and second period had just been a cycle between the two trying to find him. “dude, are you OKAY?”
“ . . did it?” he’s worried now, how long it’s been only just registering. “it’s-- i’m fine. don’t worry.” stiles averts his gaze, digging his hands into his pockets. “just . . having trouble sleeping. it’ll get better; it happens sometimes.” he thinks it’s stress; it’s just a short bout of insomnia. he’ll get over it soon, he hopes.
finally able to tune in onto the smell of his friend, the alpha hastens his pace as he tries not to break out into a run. all he knows is that the place is an accumulation of so many emotions he has trouble finding a distinct one, his own mood influenced by the surrounding signals. when he spots the figure of stiles ahead of him, scott jogs forward, a hand clasping on the familiar shoulder. “there you are – we’ve been looking EVERYWHERE for you.”
he turns around quickly, surprise colouring his features. “--you have? wait--” he looks down at his phone, trying to see what time it is. “shit, when did class start?” he’s pretty sure he’s missing a chunk of time in his memories - there’s no way he’s wandered around for half an hour after second period started. “and . . how many people is we?”
He felt like a ghost, wandering through the hallways at school. Nothing quite seemed real anymore, what with how little he’d been sleeping. His ability to focus was minimal, and trying to read was just as bad. Stiles came to a sudden stop in the hallway, looking around blankly.
Where the hell was he?
Stiles ♕
IN a normal day, Derek would’ve certainly rolled his eyes and made some comment about how the wound was that bad, but today, where he found Stiles in such a vulnerable position, all the werewolf did was raised his eyebrows, as if they spoke a subtle and silent Really? he didn’t say out loud. It seemed to have the desired effect because soon the boy was stripping himself of his shirt.
“We don’t have to.” Derek started walking towards the boy, slowly. “But we should.” It was a simple and honest affirmative, and the werewolf was pleased to see after the moment they had, at least the boy was allowing the older male to take care of him. Even if it was in I-don’t-need-this-okay-I’m-just-doing-because-your-insistence-is-annoying kind of way.
The next thing he knew though, was that he was laughing. A real, spontaneous laugh, discrete and genuine as his laugh used to be. He didn’t mean to, but seeing Stiles get stuck in his shirt now of all times was just… Priceless. It would completely hilarious if not for the fact the reason why Stiles got in that situation in the first place was his wound and the pain of it.
Despite his brief laugh, Derek moved to help even before Stiles’ demands. However, instead of just helping the boy pull out the shirt, he hold the boy’s exposed waist with one hand, veins darkening as he drained the pain, enough so he could move Stiles’ arm and feel himself the pain the teenager wasn’t able to overcome in order to finish taking off his shirt.
“There. Now let me take care of that wound.” It was all the wolf said as he moved to retrieve the first aid kit he left on the bedside table. Derek hadn’t exactly thought about it before, but now he considered this night and what happened during the months he was way, it made him realised that evolving and being able to turn him into a full wolf also made him more resilient. He was able to take more pain without feeling weak.
ALTHOUGH he was sure Derek’s laugh was well-intended, it still felt like some sort of personal attack, leaving him grimacing. “Just help me,” he muttered, a hand on his injured shoulder as though pressure would help ease the pain. (It should be noted that it only made it worse.) The hand on his side led him to shudder, and he dropped his arm, averting his gaze while the werewolf pulled the shirt off of him. Despite what he took, it still hurt to an extent, and his arm felt numb when the fabric was finally off of him.
“Thanks.” His expression of gratitude was curt but genuine - he just didn’t have the energy to say more along those lines. “You know what’s one of the things I hate most? Hospitals.” Clearly, his effort was more set on complaints. “You know what’s almost as bad as hospitals? Antiseptic.” The list of things Stiles hated nowadays was long, not to mention increasing by the second, but those two things he’d mentioned sat at the very top of his list.
Despite his words, he made no attempt to avoid what seemed to be his fate, instead turning to glance towards his bed. “Do whatever, but I’m sitting down for this.” No need to be standing while someone wiped his wound with liquid fire. “It doesn’t need stitches, does it? You’re not allowed to stick needles in my skin - now or ever. We’ll never be good enough friends for that.” Hell, he wouldn’t have let Scott do that, back when they’d still been as close as ever.
Locker room
“Stilinski, you couldn’t have been wrong. Why else would the two of you put up with each other for so long? It’s like in environmental science, when there’s a change in something that has been constant, you first look at outside variables. Theo is an outside variable. If you begin to question the validity of the constant, without considering the outside variable, you’re gonna end up with a false conclusion.”
Jackson shook his head at Stiles. “Look Stilinski, I offered you a shirt, and you turned it down. You have nothing more to complain about at this point. You really should have put it on though, you look like you’re starting to shiver. You want a water?”
“--What did London do to you?” he questioned, brows furrowed. “That almost sounded smart. Have you been studying? --Or, did someone replace you?” Stiles’ eyes narrowed on the former kanima, forever suspicious.
“Yeah, well, I don’t want your shirt. I’ll just-- I dunno, I’ll go somewhere warmer than this.” Drier, too, and less Jackson-filled. “No thanks; I’m good. Water’s not gonna help hypothermia or whatever.”
Locker room
Jackson wrinkled his brow. It’s not like he knew Stiles well, but when you’d been in school with a person since you were both three, you couldn’t help but know them a little bit. “Yeah, but you’re always paranoid, and you always see the worst in people, except maybe Lydia, and McCall. So why is that such an important point now? That’s just you, right? I mean you would have gotten to werewolves eventually all by yourself after aliens, zombies, Stepford people and Bigfoot. You always thought there was something weird going on in this town. So shouldn’t he trust you against Theo? Or has this Theo got him under some mind-control thing, where he can’t think for himself?”
Jackson caught the shirt, laughing. “Okay, it’s your hypothermia.” Jackson put the shirt back into his locker. “Though I can’t believe that it was really THAT bad putting pants on me.”
“No fucking clue-- then again, look at us, talking like we’re friends or something. A year ago - hell, a month ago - I would’ve called anyone who said this would happen absolutely crazy. Maybe I’ve just been wrong about how good of friends he and I are. Were, I mean.” Stiles sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes. When had he last slept? This was like junior year all over again, and he hated it.
“Yeah, my hypothermia, caused by you. Normal people don’t press their soaking wet, half naked bodies against other people . . and YES, it was that bad. You were NAKED.” Yeah, definitely terrible.
