"I didn't do anything except almost get myself killed." The rest of it was
them. All them, his friends, and there's Stiles just letting them take
those risks too. It was stupid. And it's good that Erica and Boyd are still
breathing. He assumes they all are, but maybe he shouldn't. The need to
know overrides his urge to find a place to quietly vomit and maybe hit a
wall or two, overrides everything, and he finally manages a couple shaky,
nearly steady breaths as he crams everything else into a corner of his mind
and locks it up tight to ferment for a few more hours. He can't be broken
right now, no matter what his face looks like or how close he came to...
"Did anyone get hurt?" Any of theirs. Of his, at least, since he isn't sure
what they all are right now. This has had at least one silver lining: Scott
and Derek working together. Probably better to keep the contact short,
before one of them does something irredeemably stupid again.
Breathing again, Stiles finally takes his hands from the chair and lifts
the hem of his shirt, using it to wipe the blood and sweat off his face,
only to pause halfway to gasp and curse when careless fingers hit his nose.
Yeah, probably broken. Another thing he'll have to think about after they
figure out what they're doing with the bodies, and after he sees with his
own eyes that everyone's okay. It's almost unsettling the way he manages to
compartmentalize everything, and shove away all the horror of their
surroundings, but he can't let the others see it. They wouldn't understand.
Not like Derek does.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2014-09-03 01:06 am (UTC)"I didn't do anything except almost get myself killed." The rest of it was them. All them, his friends, and there's Stiles just letting them take those risks too. It was stupid. And it's good that Erica and Boyd are still breathing. He assumes they all are, but maybe he shouldn't. The need to know overrides his urge to find a place to quietly vomit and maybe hit a wall or two, overrides everything, and he finally manages a couple shaky, nearly steady breaths as he crams everything else into a corner of his mind and locks it up tight to ferment for a few more hours. He can't be broken right now, no matter what his face looks like or how close he came to...
"Did anyone get hurt?" Any of theirs. Of his, at least, since he isn't sure what they all are right now. This has had at least one silver lining: Scott and Derek working together. Probably better to keep the contact short, before one of them does something irredeemably stupid again.
Breathing again, Stiles finally takes his hands from the chair and lifts the hem of his shirt, using it to wipe the blood and sweat off his face, only to pause halfway to gasp and curse when careless fingers hit his nose. Yeah, probably broken. Another thing he'll have to think about after they figure out what they're doing with the bodies, and after he sees with his own eyes that everyone's okay. It's almost unsettling the way he manages to compartmentalize everything, and shove away all the horror of their surroundings, but he can't let the others see it. They wouldn't understand. Not like Derek does.