[ A cool, light breeze sweeps through the vehicle and Stiles inhales deeply, appreciative. Now that he’s narrowly avoided a potential panic attack, he’s able to get a hold of himself. It’s slow going, of course—Stiles feels as if he’s been struck by a train, exhausted and aching all over, the tremors of anxiety and confusion releasing him gradually. He’s too weary for sarcasm, failing to chime in with a dry quip at Derek’s enlightenment. ]
Yeah. After my mom—
[ Expression twisting, he turns away to stare out the passenger side window. His reflection looks back at him, miserable. ]
It’s happened before. This is the second time in the past week.
[ He’ll need to talk to his grandparents about it, maybe install some heavy locks or alarms. ]
no subject
Yeah. After my mom—
[ Expression twisting, he turns away to stare out the passenger side window. His reflection looks back at him, miserable. ]
It’s happened before. This is the second time in the past week.
[ He’ll need to talk to his grandparents about it, maybe install some heavy locks or alarms. ]