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coyotequeens:

All right, as promised, here’s the full text of this ficlet. Happy Friday!

Void exits Stiles’ body and leaves an empty hole in the middle of his chest. He can feel it in the days and weeks after, cold and hollow as he sits in class, eats dinner with his dad, smiles for Scott. Scott’s not fooled by Stiles’ smiles - Stiles hasn’t been able to fool him since he was eight and his mom was admitted to the hospital for the first time - but he doesn’t say anything. He just stays close, all the time - in class, at the house, when everyone’s hanging out at Derek’s loft. Everyone stays close; Stiles doesn’t have to say anything. They all seem to know anyway.

He’s always cold now. He wears a t-shirt and a button-up and a hoodie at minimum, sometimes two hoodies if it’s overcast. They’re all new clothes; Void tainted everything he touched. Scott wrinkled his nose at Stiles the day before Allison’s funeral, and Lydia dragged him to the mall the day after. His sheets are new too, his blankets and comforter. The only thing he refuses to let go of is the thick blanket his mom crocheted while she was pregnant with him; he washes it once a day and figures the smell of the nogitsune will go away eventually if he just keeps on using it. Scott still wrinkles his nose, but it’s more of a joke now than anything.

Stiles still has nightmares. If anything, they’re worse than they were before Void took hold of his body because he knows now - knows what it feels like to stab his best friend in the stomach, knows the sound of people in pain, knows the look of horror on his dad’s face. He still wakes up screaming, still wakes to his dad’s arms around him, holding him down. If his new sheets didn’t smell like him, they do now, soaked through with his sweat. He doesn’t tell Scott about the nightmares, either, but Scott knows. The first night he wakes up on his own, through some miracle, not by a nightmare, he finds Scott sleeping on the floor next to his bed and Stiles stares down at him for a long time. He doesn’t dream that night, though - or if he does, he doesn’t remember it.

The next time, it’s Derek; Stiles wakes up to find him standing by the window, sharp features washed silver in the weak light of the half moon. He watches Stiles silently, and Stiles stares back at him for a long moment before he flips onto his side and falls back asleep. It doesn’t bother him. It might have, once upon a time, but mostly it just fills him with comfort, knowing his friends are trying to take care of him. The next time he catches Scott sleeping on the floor, he leans over the side of the bed and pokes at Scott until he wakes up.

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