@hcmanx
the very foundation of any relationship—of their relationship was trust. trust was what teetered them together through the utter shitstorm that had become their lives after venturing into the woods to find that body that night. trust was what kept them holding onto each, it provided them with the confidence to face a world that was eager to drive them into the ground but ironically enough what had driven them apart was one another. sure they could place blame but it wouldn't amount to much as both were aware of their roles in the distance things weren't as they were; they spoke less & casual hang out sessions were far & between these days but scott had always thought that they would recover somehow. friends went through those phase but he was certain that they would bounce back but how could they recover from this? the skeleton in the closet had fallen out & needed to be addressed.
( scott stared at stiles, the wrench weighting a ton in his hand. even with the rain the scent of blood overwhelmed his senses. his thumb brushed against the caked crimson envisioning again how the blood had gotten there. )
stiles wouldn't do this—he tried to use denial his favored weapon of choice but then was no denying it. stiles had been on edge, more so than his usual, making public his outbursts & paranoia. but paranoia & misguided rage couldn't have pushed his best friend so far? scott didn't have the answers to his own questions as stiles innocence seemed less likely. he just thought about all the instances that stiles had suggested murder or joked about violence but this was too real.
❝—where'd you get that?
please stiles. how desperately he wanted stiles to be innocent for this to be a lie or misunderstanding but stiles looked nothing but suspicious. scott's spirit broke as stiles shifted on his feet in unease. scott wanted to forget how well he knew stiles's body language & just continue to delude himself.
❝—this is yours?
just be direct scott.
( he handed it to stiles, watching as his friend flipped it in his hands. the same hands that killed dovonan—crushed his skin. )
no—don't think about it.
❝—why didn't you tell me?
