semifreakingnormal | ( 012 ) Ω ( Video )

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( 012 ) Ω ( Video )

[He's been back about an hour, just sitting in his room. It's not that he doesn't want to be here. He does. He needs to be here, to make things right again, and still all he wants is to rewind the clock, to go back to weeks ago, before their darkness spilled out into the world. Everything had looked bright. Okay. And now...

Now he understands why Stiles didn't want him to go back. Nothing will be like it was. Not until he saves Allison.

And he can't do that by letting people think he isn't here. He gets up, splashes water on his face, stares at himself in the mirror until he thinks his expression is normal. It's close enough. Drying off, he goes back to sit on the bed and picks up the communicator. When it clicks on, he smiles, and it's still Scott underneath, even if it's not quite as bright. He's older, though, only a year but it feels longer. His hair is shorter, he looks stronger. He's trying to hide the rest, and doing a decent job of it. But only decent.]

Hey, guys. I'm back.

[He waves his free hand. Semi-awkward Scott McCall is still under the new haircut! And is that a tattoo peeking out from under his left sleeve?]

So, did I miss anything good? I think...I was a troll, the last flood. How long ago was that?

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[Scott snorts, shrugs both shoulders. Regressing to the mean has been their lives since - forever, well before he was bitten. It's not easy to think, but it does help, in a small ways. It can't be this bad forever.]

Not great.

[Dry, but not mean. Scott lifts his eyes from the communicator, looks around his room.] But it's going to be okay. [Not because things will balance out, but because they're here.]

Between the two of us, our deals - it'll be okay.

[He never asked if Stiles' deal was for Allison, but - he thinks it has to be.]

[He watches Scott look around and he swallows heavily at his words. Yeah. It would be okay. Because -- deals are the key here.]

Yeah. Yeah, it'll be better. It'll be okay.

[It isn't, exactly. Not just Allison, anyway. The deputies. Coach. That moment at the clinic. All of it. Temporal fold with full knowledge of what was to come.]

[He's known Stiles way too long. And now that he knows everything that happened...Scott shakes his head.]

It's not your fault. Stiles, seriously - none of that was you. It was the Nogitsune.

[And he believes that, doesn't blame Stiles - but he understands, here, what it's like to remember doing things you would be appalled by. He remembers the other version of himself, on the other Barge. It's hard to forget these things, and what helped him was knowing that no one blamed him.]

[Somehow he's not the least bit surprised by his best friend's reassurances. He'd told him the same thing back home.]

Intellectually...I know that. [He chews his thumbnail, looking troubled. He believes Scott doesn't blame him. Believes that without a doubt. That's just Scott.]

I think it's just...gonna take me awhile to get it out of my head. To believe it. [He looks down, falling silent.]

I get that.

[Scott nods, breathes out slowly. Nods again.] And I'll keep telling you, until it sinks in.

[His smile is small, and he doesn't feel very solid about all of this, but he feels solid about Stiles.]

[He rubs a hand over his face. He shouldn't need constant reassurance about things. He's 17, not a kid. But this isn't like other things they've dealt with. Not really. And he isn't the only one hurting. And maybe if he can just focus on Scott, then it'll fix him, too.]

Thanks. [His voice is quiet.] What about you?

I dunno. [He shrugs, shakes his head, and his laugh is quiet and shaky.]

I don't know, Stiles. I feel guilty. Like I should have found a way to stop all of it. Save everyone. Like if I was a better alpha, I'd have been able to.

[Hearing those words from Scott makes his stomach tighten into a knot.]

Scott, listen to me. This isn't on you. You didn't do this. [He holds his breath for the briefest of moments.] And this all started before you even became an alpha, so you can't -- this isn't on your head, man. At all. And it has nothing to do with that.

Yeah. Intellectually...[He smiles wanly, falls silent. It fades, and he looks down for a moment.]

Aiden died, too.

[He doesn't like keeping things from Stiles. And this one is hard to convince himself of his innocence.]

He died fighting for me.

Yeah. [He looks down, too, chewing on his lower lip. He feels guilt sweep through him at that news. He didn't really like the guy. He certainly hadn't trusted him. But he'd died because of this mess, and that...he's not entirely sure what to do with that either.]

I'm sorry. [And he is. He's sorry for the whole mess. He wants to reassure Scott that Aiden's death isn't his fault either, but he doesn't know the circumstances of what happened there. Doesn't have all the right words. Are words even really enough? He doesn't think so. He swallows hard.]

Can I -- is it okay if I come up there?

[His nod, at least, is immediate. As much as everything else still feels numb or raw by turns, he's certain of this.]

Yeah, man, you don't have to ask. Come over.

[Scott is better with people around. He's better with people, and friends, and maybe a pack, too. He doesn't really want to be alone, now. And he doesn't want Stiles to be alone, either.]

[He's relieved by the immediate affirmative reaction. He hadn't really expected anything else -- not from Scott. But he wouldn't have blamed him if he'd hesitated.]

Be right there.

[He shuts off the device but takes it with him, making his way up all the stairs that separate them. Stiles doesn't really want to be alone either. But somehow it sorta feels like he should be. Truthfully he needs to see Scott in person. Especially now. He knocks on the door moments later and steps inside without waiting for his friend's response. Boundaries? What boundaries?]

[They don't know the meaning of the word. Scott is sitting square on his bed, a PS4 controller in front of him. The system, a gift from Dean last Christmas, is on, but the game is paused. Scott's not really up for fun distractions, not right now.

He looks up when Stiles enters, nods a hello and picks up the controller.]

Wanna play?

[Stiles glances from him to the game for a moment, and he can already tell that Scott's heart is not in video games. His isn't either. He shakes his head a little, swallowing hard.]

Not really, no.

Yeah. Me neither.

[He drops the controller back to his bed and moves over so that Stiles has room to sit.]

[He moves over and drops down right beside Scott, a pained expression on his face. He wraps his arms around his best friend, hugging him tightly.]

I'm so sorry, Scott. [His voice is hushed. He's not apologizing in a this is all my fault way, but in an I'm so sorry you lost Allison kind of way. The I'm so sorry you're hurting way. Because there's definitely a difference.]

[Scott leans into it, dropping his chin to Stiles' shoulder and closing his eyes. They sting anyway. He doesn't want to cry, he wants - it doesn't matter what he wants, because that won't change anything. He thinks he should be strong, like maybe he's not a good alpha because he leans so heavily on Stiles, on all of them.

But he doesn't want to be an alpha like Derek, and he damn well doesn't want to be one like Peter. His arms come up and wrap tightly around Stiles.]

I know. [His throat is tight.] Me too.

[He always thought they would get back together. He always thought they'd make it.]

[Scott has seen Stiles cry on multiple occasions. Stiles? Not great at hiding his feelings most of the time. And Scott's never teased him or made him feel weird about it. Returning the favor? Not a big deal. At all. Long, long before Scott was an alpha or even a werewolf, they'd been best friends. Brothers. Had leaned on each other.

He hugs Scott more tightly, tears forming in his own eyes. There are very few people whose emotions can sway his own, but Scott's at the top of that very short list. As if his best friend could ever be like Derek. Let alone like Peter.]

I won't tell you it's okay, because it isn't. [His voice is quiet.] But I'm gonna fix it here. I promise.

[You're going to get that second chance with Allison, Scott. He's going to make sure of it.]

[He barely notices the tears as they trickle out, more focused on the way air keeps getting caught in his throat. He's not panicking, but it would be so easy to, to sit down and say it's hopeless, they can't do this, there's no way.

He thinks of Deaton telling him about regression to the mean again, and it helps a little. Enough that he can fill his lungs and exhale again messily.

It's not going to be okay. But it's not going to be this bad forever.

Scott nods against Stiles' shoulder.]

I know. [His voice is thick and slow, caught in a respiratory system that's aching to give in to tears.] I believe you.

[He always believes Stiles.]

[Stiles shuts his eyes tightly and just falls silent, holding onto Scott and leaning his head against his best friend's as he strokes a hand up and down his back lightly. He hopes it's soothing.

The uneven, ragged sound of his breath reminds Stiles of all the asthma attacks he's witnessed Scott have over the years. He remembers how frightening they had always been. Remembers how similar the sound was as his mom took her last breaths when he was eight. How much more vigilant he'd become over Scott's breathing troubles after, diving for the nearest available inhaler at the first sign of trouble.

But Scott's words hurt in their simple honesty and he bites down hard on his lip. He's not sure his best friend's faith in him is really deserved at this point, but he's not going to argue it either. He needs to be there for Scott. So he nods instead in acknowledgment of the words.]

Let it out, Scott. [His words are barely audible -- probably wouldn't have been audible to anyone without super-hearing.]

[He does.

The tears fall faster, and his hands dig into Stiles' shirt. He's careful not to lose control, not to slice up his shirt accidentally. Scott chokes on a sob, and then he breathes around it, around the discomfort and the wet ache in his eyes.

It doesn't last long. Scott doesn't like crying, doesn't like crying for long enough to hit that exhausted, do-nothing point. He gets out the worst of it, getting Stiles' shoulder wet in the process, and eventually he swallows it back, straightens up and wipes his eyes with his sleeve.]

Sorry, [he mumbles, even though he knows he doesn't have to. He sniffs, shakes his head like he can clear it.]

[He lets Scott pull away without comment, not caring about his wet shirt. It's just a shirt. He keeps his hand on his friend's back though, feeling like he probably still needs the light contact. Or maybe Stiles does.

He shakes his head, because no, an apology is definitely not necessary. Ever. Not with the two of them. Not for this, especially.]

Do you...wanna talk about it?

Not really? [He manages a smile, even if it vanishes pretty quickly. He shrugs a moment later, shaking his head. It's loss. He's at a loss.] I don't know what say anymore. It sucks. It shouldn't have happened. But we already know that.

[He draws in a deep breath. Regression to the mean.]

And we're already doing everything we can to change it.

[He scrubs at his face with both hands.] It won't hurt this bad forever. [They'll learn to cope with it. They might get used to the idea of her not being around, but they'll stay here because they won't forget her. They'll fix it.]

I just - it sucks, trying to remember that.

[He isn't surprised by Scott's response. He looks down at his hands, nodding slightly at his words. He doesn't know what to say either. And it definitely shouldn't have happened.]

Yeah. Yeah, we are. And we'll change it. [Allison, Aiden. The officers that were killed in the bomb explosion at the sheriff's station. All of it.

He's silent for a moment. Because it does hurt -- sharp and constant, even for him. And he and Allison weren't even close.]

I know, man. [And he does. He's heard that it won't hurt this bad forever so many times from so many people over the years. And it takes time. Neither is really all that comforting. Nothing really is, at the end of the day.]

I know it's not a lot, but...I'm here. Whenever and for whatever.

I know.

[Another small smile, and Scott nods. He reaches up, resting his hand on Stiles' arm, squeezing lightly.]

I'm glad you're here, Stiles. [It's not that he would have no one, if he'd still caught up without Stiles here. He'd be sitting with Cassel, or Peter, and it would be good, but it wouldn't be the same. Stiles is his brother in almost every way. He doesn't have to explain things to Stiles. He doesn't have to tell Stiles who Allison is. Who Aiden is.

Were. He can't accept that tense, not yet.]

Seriously.

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