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STILES WATCHES CAREFULLY BY HIS BED AS HE SEES HIS BOYFRIEND PICK UP HIS PHONE, LOOKING DOWN AT THE CONTACT BEFORE DECLINING THE CALL. The action made the brown-haired boy frown, licking his lips gently before speaking. "You know, you can't just ignore your family forever, Adrian."
"Watch me." The redhead mumbled as he tore the clothes he had been wearing for the last two days off, walking towards the Stilinski drawers. "Do you have a shirt I can borrow?"
Stiles' eyes immediately widened in alert at the sudden appearance of red cuts and slashes at the back of Adrian's back as if he had been in a battle with a werewolf, blood staining his skin. "Oh my god! Adrian, are you okay? What happened?!"
The Martin boy confusedly turned to see the very fearful Stiles, a lost expression taking place. "Uh . . . I woke up?" It came out more so a guess than an answer.
Despite the situation, Stiles had to roll his eyes. "No, idiot! I'm talking about your bleeding and cut back!" He emphasised, gesturing spastically go the gingers' wounds.
Now it was Adrian's turn as his green eyes widened, feeling his heart thud harder than before. ". . . my back is bleeding?!"
Stiles cocked his head at the boy. "Wha- how do you not know when your freaking back is bleeding?!" He shouted. They were so glad the Sheriff was out.
"I thought I had just slept wrong!" Adrian defended, his eyes suddenly clearing as if coming to a realisation. "Oh my god . . . the dream."
"What? Wait, what dream?" The Stilinski boy wondered as he quickly strode over to him, grabbing his shoulders to steer them eye-to-eye now. "Adrian, what dream?" He repeated.
The redhead's breathing began to get slightly heavier. "Oh my god." He whispered before running a stressed hand through his hair through an explanation. "I-I had another one. It was another Necromancer dream. I-It woke me up in the middle of the freaking night and when I did . . . I felt a searing pain in my back. At first, I just shrugged it off because what could it have been? I hadn't done anything to seriously injure myself. But . . . oh my god- what is happening to me?"
Stiles frowned deeply when his boyfriend sat on his bed and plopped his head into his hands for some form of release, a shaky and scared breath escaping him. Why him? he thought ever so glumly. What did I do?
