For a teenager who suffers from ADHD, Stiles manages to remain impressively still and attentive during the story. Once it has concluded, his gaze slides away to skirt along the distant horizon. He’s quiet, reflective; humor doesn’t feel appropriate here, even when countless quips bubbles up and die in his throat.

After all, Stiles understands intimately what it means to not only open the door, but keep it open.

“Sometimes,” he agrees with a shrug, head lolling back on shoulders so he can squint up at the sky. “Who gets to decide what’s best and what isn’t, though? It’s not really so one-sided. Her lover gets something out of it too, even if it eventually kills him.” A pause, shoes kicking at grass. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, it should be judged on a case-by-case basis. Some things are worth the risk.”