#mydearsourwolf

One night Stiles rolls away from him. It's dark and Derek is sluggish from sleep and forced into unrest by the absence of weight pressing against his side.

He looks over, to where Stiles is huddled in a seated position, back to Derek, the fine curve of his spine pressing up into the thin fabric of his shirt.

"There's something wrong with me, Derek." he says, the first time he's ever spoken here, deliberately, at least. His voice is soft but clear, and it's definitely Stiles speaking now, not some shell of a boy who's lost his way in the woods.

What is every living person afraid of? Us. Death. The Big Sleep. Deep down fearing the reaper is the reason why everyone’s so messed up in the head. They know the end is nigh, but there’s nothing they can do about it so it drives them nuts and they live their lives with one eye on the clock. We don’t have to do that. We can smash the clock to pieces. That’s an incredible blessing.