[ it feels so easy. it feels like their usual talks, like he could just reply and let him know that he agrees, that it's a stupid fucking plan and he wants to just tell her everything. as much as he wants to protect her, he learned the hard way that sometimes keeping people out of the loop hurt them even more in the end.
that last sentence makes him stop, though, and he stares at it.
he can't respond.
stiles takes the device and shoves it under his pillow, picking up another one and putting it over his head to make a frustrated noise into it. it makes sense, anyway, why would derek want to--anything with stiles, he was a fucking joke. always had been, the footnote in everyone else's stories, and nobody should like him that way anyway.
[ Derek sits there and stares at the phone for a very, very long time. Paige is rubbing against his fingers where he's holding it, oblivious to the current situation but knowing that something is wrong. She's been meowing at him and sitting at the door, like she expects Stiles to come over so that they can hang out, do obscure research about Wonderland and errant monsters that Stiles remembers from the bestiary, random shit that comes to mind.
Whenever he lets her out, she makes her way over towards the game room, still meowing, like she thinks they're going in there so Stiles can make him play more Xbox, or marathon on the TV when it's just them.
But he just goes right past the room every time, heads for the kitchen or library or just out on patrol of the grounds. Because ever since Thanksgiving, he and Isaac haven't been spending time in their shared room. He hasn't been going to the game room.
And it's fucking stupid. ]
When are we going to fix this? [ No, delete. ] Can we talk? [ No, delete. ]
[ Christ, when the hell did this happen? If you told him months ago, a year ago, that he would actually miss Stiles, he would've laughed.
Now he just tosses his phone onto the end of the bed and drops back with a heavy thud. ]
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that last sentence makes him stop, though, and he stares at it.
he can't respond.
stiles takes the device and shoves it under his pillow, picking up another one and putting it over his head to make a frustrated noise into it. it makes sense, anyway, why would derek want to--anything with stiles, he was a fucking joke. always had been, the footnote in everyone else's stories, and nobody should like him that way anyway.
god dammit, this sucks. ]
no subject
Whenever he lets her out, she makes her way over towards the game room, still meowing, like she thinks they're going in there so Stiles can make him play more Xbox, or marathon on the TV when it's just them.
But he just goes right past the room every time, heads for the kitchen or library or just out on patrol of the grounds. Because ever since Thanksgiving, he and Isaac haven't been spending time in their shared room. He hasn't been going to the game room.
And it's fucking stupid. ]
When are we going to fix this? [ No, delete. ]
Can we talk? [ No, delete. ]
[ Christ, when the hell did this happen? If you told him months ago, a year ago, that he would actually miss Stiles, he would've laughed.
Now he just tosses his phone onto the end of the bed and drops back with a heavy thud. ]