[He can't remember the last time Stiles talked about his mom. The thought makes him want to cry, and he's not sure if the sting in his eyes is from that or panic. He never knew how to comfort Stiles, other than being there, always being there, whenever Stiles wanted or needed him. He's not sure what to do now. He's not sure if Stiles needs him to say something. He can only sort of grasp that Stiles is doing this for him, pulling up old, probably buried memories to make him calm down.
They had good memories, back then. Fewer deaths, fewer losses. No lives hanging in the balance, waiting on teenagers to make decisions. No one dying because they chose wrong.
His hands close on both of theirs, and his eyes open wide in the dark, wandering before settling on something just outside their little circle, something flaring and angry and ready to yell.]
He's gonna be--
[Scott wheezes, shaking his head without really looking away from his father.]
Gonna be so - mad at me...
[It's practically a whisper, and he swallows hard, or tries, his throat working as his wheezes pitch higher.]
PACK SPAM! ♥
They had good memories, back then. Fewer deaths, fewer losses. No lives hanging in the balance, waiting on teenagers to make decisions. No one dying because they chose wrong.
His hands close on both of theirs, and his eyes open wide in the dark, wandering before settling on something just outside their little circle, something flaring and angry and ready to yell.]
He's gonna be--
[Scott wheezes, shaking his head without really looking away from his father.]
Gonna be so - mad at me...
[It's practically a whisper, and he swallows hard, or tries, his throat working as his wheezes pitch higher.]
Lost me - inhaler - again--