Author's Note: Please go check out my Teen Wolf fic. It's called Fair Game, and I just started it.
QOTD: Favorite chimera?
AOTD: Corey Bryant
You stared into the bathroom mirror with heavy breath, watching the thin trail of mercury leak from your nose. It had been weeks since the pack discovered you were one of the chimeras, and you had been fine up until this point.
Your breath hitched, and you sunk down onto the floor, looking at the door to make sure you had locked it. You were at Scott's house, along with Lydia, Malia, and Kira, trying to get through the last few pages of The Dread Doctors.
"[Y/N]?" Scott's voice came from outside the door. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine!" You said, too quickly.
There was murmuring. You could hear your four friends talking about your boyfriend Stiles, debating whether or not to call him.
"Can you open the door?" Kira asked.
"I'm fine!" You repeated.
"Just break it down," Malia whispered. "Or stand back. I'll do it."
"I kind of like the door being attached to the wall," Scott said quietly.
You let your hands droop to your sides, gliding your fingers across the bathroom tile. You wanted to be okay, and you didn't want to scare them. You didn't want them to think that you were dying.
The door was thrown open by Malia, and everyone crowded into the bathroom.
Scott knelt down at your side, putting his hand on your shoulder. You forced yourself to look at him, and to let him see the sweaty, dying mess that was yourself.
"Call Stiles," Scott said, lifting you off the ground.
You bit your bottom lip in pain as he moved you, and coughed up a bit of mercury. You knew that if they were calling Stiles, you must be dying.
Scott set you down on the couch, and took a step back, running his hand through his hair. Lydia moved forward and placed her hand over yours. Kira retrieved a wet washcloth, and placed it gently on your forehead.
You grabbed her wrist as she moved away. "Am I- Am I dying?"
"I don't know," she said, looking at the ground.
"Am I a failure?" You asked. "Am I a failure?" No one responded.
It took ten minutes for Stiles to get there. He barged through the door, and ran to your side, putting his hand on your head, stroking your hair.
"You're okay," was the first thing he said. "You're gonna be okay."
"I don't wanna die, Stiles," you told him with a burning throat.
"You won't," he sniffled.
You inhaled a deep breath, and let your spinning head fall to the side. The washcloth slipped off, and you were gone.
You were in the Dread Doctors' lair, tightly strapped down to a hard table. The three of them were around you, moving containers around, until one of them picked up a syringe.
"Please," you said weakly. "Don't do this."
"This one," he breathed out, and stuck the needle into your neck. "Will be a success."
You jumped up so quickly that you nearly bumped heads with Stiles, more out of breath than you were before.
"[Y/N]," Stiles pulled you sideways into a hug.
"It was a memory," you said, wrapping your arms around him. "It was just a memory. I'm not going to die."
"I told you'd be okay," he laughed. "You're not going anywhere as long as I'm here."
