good news: thereâs three of us here bad news: thereâs only three of us here.
So obviously Iâve been looking at this information for several days now. Â I still donât know what to do with it.Â
iâve been looking at it for over a year. lmao.
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@nctstiles
good news: thereâs three of us here bad news: thereâs only three of us here.
So obviously Iâve been looking at this information for several days now. Â I still donât know what to do with it.Â
iâve been looking at it for over a year. lmao.

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good news: thereâs three of us here bad news: thereâs only three of us here.
He could sense it from miles away. The irregularities with the boy just down the hallway, they were too obvious. Sleep deprived, most likely malnourished, disheveled andâŚunable to pinpoint his position. Either heâd been preyed on, or was a monster recovering from an attackâor hunt. But he had a cover to maintain and a duty to follow his parentsâ law. So, the locker he was in front of was shut gently, and lips parted.
ââHey.â
Stiles turned quickly, heart thudding - he hadnât expected anyone about, and the sound of the locker shutting ( no matter how gently ) was enough to startle him. âHey,â he responded in kind, a little uncertain. â...What are you doing here?â Though he said you, it managed to sound more like I, somewhat of an inquiry about himself. The teenager was fairly lost, and despite trying to hide it, it was fairly obvious.
Wandering the halls, Rosalia was once again getting familiar with the High School she had once left behind. Turning a corner she saw a guy, looking to be about her again though she had yet to see his face. âYou look a little lost there, any way I can change that?â She spoke, an eyebrow raised as she awaited an answer.
Stiles turned to face her after a moment, trying to concentrate enough to see her face, but he was pretty sure he didnât know her once it processed. âI just need a minute,â he said, rubbing his eyes. âI can figure it out.â He tried to read the signs around, but the room numbers and labels melded together into unknown symbols. âJust another minute.â Heâd get it soon, he hoped.
It just bothered Jackson.  Stiles was always so animated. âStiles, wait, seriously, whatâs wrong?â
âIâm fine, okay? Iâm fine. Nothingâs wrong, Iâm just . . â The teenager trailed off, glancing at the area around him again. It feels as though it should be familiar, but itâs far from it. âIâm just lost.â

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Jackson stumbled into Stiles. âWhat the hell, Stilinski!  At least flash your brake lights before you do that!â  Jackson shouldered his way past Stiles and was about to keep going when he noticed the look on Stilesâ face.  Or rather the lack of one. âDude, what are you looking for?âÂ
The words didnât register for a moment-- but when they finally came through, confusion flooded his features. âWhat? Iâm not looking for anyth--â Stiles cut himself off, realising that he had little to no idea as to where the HELL he was. â . . Forget it, Jackson. Whatever.âÂ
his eyebrows raise as his FRIEND speaks, surprise overtaking his features. but again, he doesnât say anything about it. ây-yeah, this way.â
â--right, yeah. of course. this way,â he echoes, shoving his hands into his pockets. âand . . remind me, what class is it? AP U.S. History?â heâs pretty far off; itâs calculus.
âHey are you lost?â Brynn called out. It was definitely out of the normal for studens to be here this late. Yes, the blond was still here, but she was still working on a place to stay and sometimes it was school. Brynn walked over to the figure âHey is everything alright?â
â--Huh?â
Stiles turned to face her, confused for a moment before her words fully processed. âOh-- Yeah, everythingâs . . good. Things are alright.â He rubbed at his tired eyes, doing his best to focus. â . . Do I know you?â She was a little too in the dark for him to be able to make out her features, so he wasnât quite sure.
scottâs a little concerned â WORRIED, to be honest, but doesnât push because itâll only cause stiles to become more anxious than he already is. âletâs ⌠letâs just go to class, okay?â
â . . class,â he repeats, lips twisting in a grimace. âyeah . . yeah, letâs.â he pauses after speaking, brows furrowing. âi-- can you . . take me there? i donât--â itâs hard to admit, but heâs not quite sure where his class is.
Kellin heaved a sigh, leaning against the wall behind the school. She brought her cigarette to her lips, taking a long drag, closing her eyes. It was nice. The silence was nice, and almost rare, especially in Beacon Hills of all places. At the sound of footsteps, she opened them once again, cerulean irises staring upon the individual that had just approached. âYeah, yeahâ I know I should quit. Iâm working on it, m'kay?â Kellin muttered, dropping the cigarette, putting it out with the toe of her Vans.
Stiles follows the smell of smoke. It isnât strong, but itâs enough for him to head after. He doesnât mean to disturb her, but apparently his presence is enough to throw her off, or something of the sort. âI wasnât going to say anything,â he states, digging his hands into his pockets, âexcept that you might want to smoke downwind from now on. I could smell it around the front, and Iâm guessing you donât want to get caught.â

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âclass started ages ago â i just left for a bathroom break because you werenât there,â scott replies. âitâs just me and lydia â we wouldâve called the others if i hadnât found you.â first and second period had just been a cycle between the two trying to find him. âdude, are you OKAY?â
â . . did it?â heâs worried now, how long itâs been only just registering. âitâs-- iâm fine. donât worry.â stiles averts his gaze, digging his hands into his pockets. âjust . . having trouble sleeping. itâll get better; it happens sometimes.â he thinks itâs stress; itâs just a short bout of insomnia. heâll get over it soon, he hopes.
finally able to tune in onto the smell of his friend, the alpha hastens his pace as he tries not to break out into a run. all he knows is that the place is an accumulation of so many emotions he has trouble finding a distinct one, his own mood influenced by the surrounding signals. when he spots the figure of stiles ahead of him, scott jogs forward, a hand clasping on the familiar shoulder. âthere you are â weâve been looking EVERYWHERE for you.â
he turns around quickly, surprise colouring his features. â--you have? wait--â he looks down at his phone, trying to see what time it is. âshit, when did class start?â heâs pretty sure heâs missing a chunk of time in his memories - thereâs no way heâs wandered around for half an hour after second period started. âand . . how many people is we?â
He felt like a ghost, wandering through the hallways at school. Nothing quite seemed real anymore, what with how little heâd been sleeping. His ability to focus was minimal, and trying to read was just as bad. Stiles came to a sudden stop in the hallway, looking around blankly.
Where the hell was he?
Stiles â
IN a normal day, Derek wouldâve certainly rolled his eyes and made some comment about how the wound was that bad, but today, where he found Stiles in such a vulnerable position, all the werewolf did was raised his eyebrows, as if they spoke a subtle and silent Really? he didnât say out loud. It seemed to have the desired effect because soon the boy was stripping himself of his shirt.
âWe donât have to.â Derek started walking towards the boy, slowly. âBut we should.â It was a simple and honest affirmative, and the werewolf was pleased to see after the moment they had, at least the boy was allowing the older male to take care of him. Even if it was in I-donât-need-this-okay-Iâm-just-doing-because-your-insistence-is-annoying kind of way.
The next thing he knew though, was that he was laughing. A real, spontaneous laugh, discrete and genuine as his laugh used to be. He didnât mean to, but seeing Stiles get stuck in his shirt now of all times was just⌠Priceless. It would completely hilarious if not for the fact the reason why Stiles got in that situation in the first place was his wound and the pain of it.
Despite his brief laugh, Derek moved to help even before Stilesâ demands. However, instead of just helping the boy pull out the shirt, he hold the boyâs exposed waist with one hand, veins darkening as he drained the pain, enough so he could move Stilesâ arm and feel himself the pain the teenager wasnât able to overcome in order to finish taking off his shirt.Â
âThere. Now let me take care of that wound.â It was all the wolf said as he moved to retrieve the first aid kit he left on the bedside table. Derek hadnât exactly thought about it before, but now he considered this night and what happened during the months he was way, it made him realised that evolving and being able to turn him into a full wolf also made him more resilient. He was able to take more pain without feeling weak.
ALTHOUGH he was sure Derekâs laugh was well-intended, it still felt like some sort of personal attack, leaving him grimacing. âJust help me,â he muttered, a hand on his injured shoulder as though pressure would help ease the pain. (It should be noted that it only made it worse.) The hand on his side led him to shudder, and he dropped his arm, averting his gaze while the werewolf pulled the shirt off of him. Despite what he took, it still hurt to an extent, and his arm felt numb when the fabric was finally off of him.
âThanks.â His expression of gratitude was curt but genuine - he just didnât have the energy to say more along those lines. âYou know whatâs one of the things I hate most? Hospitals.â Clearly, his effort was more set on complaints. âYou know whatâs almost as bad as hospitals? Antiseptic.â The list of things Stiles hated nowadays was long, not to mention increasing by the second, but those two things heâd mentioned sat at the very top of his list.
Despite his words, he made no attempt to avoid what seemed to be his fate, instead turning to glance towards his bed. âDo whatever, but Iâm sitting down for this.â No need to be standing while someone wiped his wound with liquid fire. âIt doesnât need stitches, does it? Youâre not allowed to stick needles in my skin - now or ever. Weâll never be good enough friends for that.â Hell, he wouldnât have let Scott do that, back when theyâd still been as close as ever.

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Locker room
âStilinski, you couldnât have been wrong.  Why else would the two of you put up with each other for so long?  Itâs like in environmental science, when thereâs a change in something that has been constant, you first look at outside variables.  Theo is an outside variable. If you begin to question the validity of the constant, without considering the outside variable, youâre gonna end up with a false conclusion.âÂ
Jackson shook his head at Stiles. âLook Stilinski, I offered you a shirt, and you turned it down. You have nothing more to complain about at this point. You really should have put it on though, you look like youâre starting to shiver. You want a water?âÂ
â--What did London do to you?â he questioned, brows furrowed. âThat almost sounded smart. Have you been studying? --Or, did someone replace you?â Stilesâ eyes narrowed on the former kanima, forever suspicious.
âYeah, well, I donât want your shirt. Iâll just-- I dunno, Iâll go somewhere warmer than this.â Drier, too, and less Jackson-filled. âNo thanks; Iâm good. Waterâs not gonna help hypothermia or whatever.â
Locker room
Jackson wrinkled his brow.  Itâs not like he knew Stiles well, but when youâd been in school with a person since you were both three, you couldnât help but know them a little bit.  âYeah, but youâre always paranoid, and you always see the worst in people, except maybe Lydia, and McCall. So why is that such an important point now? Thatâs just you, right?  I mean you would have gotten to werewolves eventually all by yourself after aliens, zombies, Stepford people and Bigfoot. You always thought there was something weird going on in this town. So shouldnât he trust you against Theo? Or has this Theo got him under some mind-control thing, where he canât think for himself?âÂ
Jackson caught the shirt, laughing.  âOkay, itâs your hypothermia.â Jackson put the shirt back into his locker. âThough I canât believe that it was really THAT bad putting pants on me.âÂ
âNo fucking clue-- then again, look at us, talking like weâre friends or something. A year ago - hell, a month ago - I wouldâve called anyone who said this would happen absolutely crazy. Maybe Iâve just been wrong about how good of friends he and I are. Were, I mean.â Stiles sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes. When had he last slept? This was like junior year all over again, and he hated it.
âYeah, my hypothermia, caused by you. Normal people donât press their soaking wet, half naked bodies against other people . . and YES, it was that bad. You were NAKED.â Yeah, definitely terrible.