[He reaches out, finds Stiles' arm, hand, shoulder, he's not sure, he's just grasping in the dark. His thoughts are wandering, at once panicked by the attack and drifting far from it. They're supposed to make him stronger but they aren't wolves; they're his pack, but how does any of it even work? They're just friends, they're just a bunch of teenagers.
He's a wimp who can't breathe. He's not a werewolf. He's nothing.
His hands tighten on both of them, and he tries to blink the gray and yellow spots from his vision. It doesn't work.]
PACK SPAM! ♥
He's a wimp who can't breathe. He's not a werewolf. He's nothing.
His hands tighten on both of them, and he tries to blink the gray and yellow spots from his vision. It doesn't work.]
Asthma--
[It's too hard to choke out more than that.]