#mortemsensitiva

[loyalwclf]

ℋ ║ mortemsensitiva

              it had been days and derek couldn’t seem to shake the hollow ache resting behind his lungs. every breath shifting something painful inside of him. every time he managed to divert his attention to something else, anything else, there that ache was  ( like an alarm sounding )  to remind him he hadn’t WON anything. what they’d managed to claw together was nothing like victory. they’d gotten rid of the darkness, but it had taken too much already.               derek knew avoiding the pack wasn’t going to heal anything, and it wouldn’t take long for one of them to wander into his loft. he hadn’t been expecting the click of heels though ( the scuff of sneakers, the stomp of boots maybe )  he wasn’t expecting it to be lydia. he has no idea what he should say, what he needs to say, and when he looks up to meet her gaze none of his normal expressions seem to fit on his face. the small smile tastes like a GRIMACE on his lips, but it doesn’t matter. he hangs his head after a moment. eyes locked onto the the bare stone.                    all he can manage is a quiet acknowledgment,  ‘ lydia. ’

[valiantmccall]

continued from here, mortemsensitiva.

mortemsensitiva:

       Her eyes lifted up to meet his at Scott’s admission.        She was knelt down in front of him as she viewed a        wound that wasn’t healing as quickly as it should’ve been.        Lydia had been about to start cleaning it when he caused        her to pause.

                           ❝ I think that’s the loss of blood talking, Scott.                        You always loved Allison, remember?                                 We had one kiss in the coach’s office. ❞

        All the same she could feel her heart rate picking up.         It picked up even more when she remembered he could         hear it. Her hands shook ever so slightly as she took the         gauze soaked in disinfectant and pressed it delicately to         his wound. Maybe the help would speed up his healing.

Scott leaned his head back, resting it on the wall he was sitting up against. Maybe it was the blood loss; there’d been a lot of it, and the scarlet-stained shirt on the ground next to him was a testament to that fact. That was probably why he wasn’t healing as fast as he usually did. He knew he’d be okay, though, and so he wasn’t worried... even if his head was spinning and the pain radiating from his abdomen was making him more nauseated by the second.

No. It wasn’t the blood loss. The blood loss was why he said it, probably, but it wasn’t why he felt it. Not when he’d been feeling it for a long time. His guard was down at the moment, but that was the only thing his injury had to do with what he’d just said. He would mostly likely regret it later, because they were just friends and Stiles still liked her and he’d pretty much just complicated everything, but for now he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He tensed as she put pressure on the still-bleeding wound before forcing himself to relax again.

“There was that one time in fifth grade, too,” he said, his voice soft and quiet. “Remember?”