Unsteady | Sterek

Fifteen: Hold onto me

Markis isn't at school the next day and Stiles is more agitated by that then anything else. He highly doubts the other teen was scared off by Derek, so his absence grates on the exposed nerve Stiles can't really cover because honestly, anxiety.

The other pack members give him sympathetic looks all day and by the end of third period, he's ready to scream and tear his hair out. He's not glass, but they treat him like he's not his own person. Like he's a thing for them to protect. Like he has no hope of surviving on his own.

Maybe they're right.

Stiles doesn't care.

"Yo Stiles," Isaac greets casually at lunch. "Everything good with you today?"

Stiles tenses his jaw. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Cause like, you seem jumpy so, you know, gotta make sure you're okay."

"Isaac, I swear to god I'm gonna punch you, werewolf or no. I'm fine, okay? Leave me be about it."

Scott joins them at the table. "Dude, don't take your frustrations out on Isaac. We're all worried."

"You don't need to be," Stiles mutters.

Scott shifts in front of him and suddenly Stiles feels his leg being kicked. "You need to listen up," Scott snarls softly. "We are pack. Need or not, we're gonna be concerned. You are being targeted by a powerful coven and threatened by a werewolf. These things are not okay. Regardless on what you think about yourself, Stiles, you need help."

Stiles just blinks at him, something brittle rattling in his chest. "You have no right," he says very softly. "You have no right to say things like that to me. You weren't me. You have no idea what it was like to be him. You have no idea."

"Then tell us." Scott's meets his eyes and doesn't back down.

A breathy laugh in his ear. "Yes Stiles. Tell your little pack."

His chair clatters to the ground and he backs away, hands trembling. He counts his finger, please be a dream, please be a dream. It's not, he has ten fingers.

He runs.

But he can't outrun Allison and soon he just collapses, heaving in shuddering breaths that shake his whole body as she sits beside him, her presence colder than anything he's ever known.

"Please," he begs. "Just leave me alone."

She doesn't answer him and it could just be him but her image flickers and she warms up. He finds sympathy in her familiar eyes and he watches her watch him and wonders if anything is really worth it anymore.

The pack finds him two hours later and if he's honest, he can't believe it took them that long to find him. He's still staring at Allison, wondering what's changed, what did he do to make her kinder. There a lingering reminder that really, it's the coven but something about Allison is so real that he likes to think it's the Nogitsune instead.

"Stiles?"

He traces Allison's face. He can see why Scott loved her.

"Stiles, man, come on."

Then his eyes wander over the blood on her stomach and he wants to throw up.

"Stiles, look at me."

He does, his neck cracking as he turns his head sluggishly. He can feel his eyes dropping, feel his body lagging. Maybe Allison hadn't changed, Stiles thinks blearily. Maybe he's just crazy.

He can only manage a hoarse laugh before he's embraced by a comforting black and he's not really anything at all.

Ideas please!