#eatpanic

                         “  how’s han doing?  ”    curious as ever,  all while managing to express mild concern.  forget how she literally saw the duckling yesterday.  she worries.

                         he helps himself.  grabs the massive trash bag full of popcorn and carries it with him up the stairs.  that is,  not before he allows himself a minute to rest a reassuring hand on the other teen’s shoulder   /   give it a gentle squeeze.    “  i don’t envy you.  ”    as if to rub it in,  but there’s nothing malicious about it.  not with the corners of his lips upturned in a soft smile.  scott can smell it coming off of him in waves.  agitation   /   butter   /   nacho cheese.

@eatpanic

STILES    @    BOYD:           “ hey,  whoa,  you alright there? ”   @eatpanic.           —           stiles’ voice rings dully in his ears.    (   like he’s underwater   /   like he’s drowning.   )    only this time there’s no safe on his chest keeping him under.  just a frigid chill that has him taking in a sharp breath.    “  what?  ”    he looks away from the rink.  lets it register in his mind that this day is just like any other,  and he won’t be uncovering any answers.  alicia will still be gone.    “  yeah.  remember when i said to wait outside?  what happened to that?  ”

                         it’s gnawing at her.    (   and she can picture it vividly:  a fox as dark as night.  fur matted   /   pelt mangy.  borderline decomposing.  ghostly white eyes that almost glow.  and just as stark are the iridescent canines that snap and dig into her heels.  tearing away strips of flesh.  refusing to let wounds heal.  )    there’s even a buzzing in her ear.  one that she finds herself waking up from,  trying to swat away a fly that just isn’t there.  but she’s not asleep,  and she’s not alone.  stiles is the last person to visit her since she’s woken up.

+ angela