ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᶤˡᵈ ᵒᶰᵉᶳ

              The need to hurt little Scott was high,               to hurt him to the point of making poor little Scott cry.                He needed to live of that pain              plus he loved how it made Stiles feel               he loved how much it broke the boy.                The more it broke Stiles,               the more and more the fox could                                    take over and have control.

                       How relief can obscure the wariness,                        and so, with the advent of the liveliness                        he loved and outlined in his mind to                        the smallest detail, rejoining the amberness                        in Stiles' eyes, Scott feels safe.        He forgets to remember.        The pain, the worries.        The fear of potential loss.                   Of course he forgets, when the only person                   who can give him the reassurance he needs                   is so close. Trailing fingers leave hot traces                   on his skin. He burnt or it was too cold to tell.                   Always at extremities.                                    ❝Mmmmm.❞ Eyelids flutter close as his posture                                    relaxes and the boy's fingers work through his hair.                                    It is way too easy to forget.                          ❝You really should make up your mind.                         Do you love or hate me?❞