Unsteady | Sterek

Twenty nine: i said hey, heey

It niggles at his mind, the waiting.

His fingers tap a rhythm that matches the sluggish beat of his heart, thumping away in the grisly silence. He feels shaky, but oddly steady, as if Scott is bringing Death with him. Maybe he is, because Stiles thinks that Scott is carrying around Allison and they're the same thing.

He stares at the door until his eyes ache of dryness. He can't bring himself to blink though, what if he misses it? A glimpse of his future, a chance to fix everything. He has to watch, just for a little longer, and maybe he'll see everything clearly for the first time in years.

The door creaks open. Scott stands in the doorway, damp from the rain.

"Stiles," Scott says.

"Scott," Stiles says.

It's not really fair, Stiles thinks. It's not fair that Scott gets to be okay after everything. It's not fair that Scott's mother is strong. It's not fair that Stiles is the one left behind, the one shut out, the one that everyone is scared of because Stiles had just tried to save his dad and now look at him.

"Mum spoke to your dad," Scott says and Stiles' fingers stop tapping.

"Oh."

Scoot looks uncomfortable. "He doesn't understand anything, Stiles. Everything's happened too fast for him. He'll call in a few days and you can sort it out."

"Oh," Stiles says again because really, what else is there to say? "Thanks."

Thanks for coming for me. Thanks for bringing the memories here. Thanks for leaving me behind. Thanks for loving me when nobody else would.

He doesn't tell Scott that though because Scott is a puppy who doesn't want to hurt anyone. Stiles is the thunderstorm that scares him, low and rumbling and abrupt.

"Stiles-" Scott starts then stops, looking frustrated. "Stiles, this has to stop."

And Stiles blinks at him as he says, "What?"

"All this." Scott motions to the room, to Stiles and the mess that he is. "You keep running away, keep trying to find ways to forget about this."

And maybe Scott might've been right if Stiles hadn't been a monster bound my human frailty. But Stiles is definitely a monster, so Scott has no idea what he's talking about. "Scott," Stiles drawls, something dark and hollow and bitter seeping into his voice. "I'm not running from anything. I am being punished by life and I am doing my best to survive."

"Stiles-"

"I'm not broken, Scott," Stiles says because that's exactly what Scott thinks he is. And maybe he is, maybe he's so shattered that he can make a new person if he were to put the pieces back together, but he's not broken in the way Scott wants him to be.

Scott flexes his hands. Stiles eyes the movement. "I know," he says through gritted teeth. "But you aren't why you think you are."

What do you think I am, Scott? Stiles wants to ask but he stays silent and lets Scott figure everything out on his own, because Stiles is sick of having to monitor everyone and explain everything. He's sick of knowing everything, of having to understand so many different things at once just to keep everyone together.

"Scott." It's Derek, awake and leaning on the doorframe. His expression is a tense sort of neutral.

Scott stiffens. "Derek," he greets. "Glad to see you're doing better."

They watch each other, werewolf and werewolf, and Stiles listens to the wind that whispers of power and change. There is respect between the two, but also distrust, distaste and a possessiveness that sets Stiles' teeth on edge.

"Is that all you came for, Scott?" He asks quietly and the moment breaks. Scott looks back down at his friend, something frayed in his eyes. Stiles fights the urge to tug on that thread, resists the need to unravel his friend, bit by bit, just to see who he was, what was tucked into those little creases. "Because I'm tired."

Scott clears his throat. "Yeah," he says. "I think Isaac is coming over later."

"Maybe he'll come over with my dad," Stiles says lowly. He knows Scott can hear him. "You know, because apparently miracles happen."

His temper spikes at the sudden burning anger that flares in Scott's puppy eyes. The air sharpens with the sour tang of magic. Scott backs down, and his jaw clenches. "I'll see you later, Stiles," he mutters, and then he's gone and there's nothing but silence where he was standing.

Stiles stares at the empty space for a little while, just taking in the silence. Someone clears their throat.

"What was that about?" Derek asks.

Stiles doesn't look back at him. He knows that Peter will be standing beside Derek if he does. "Scott just realised that he can't pull me apart so he can put me together, that's all."

Neither werewolf comments on the hidden meaning in his words.

Stiles doesn't want them to.