Insatiable sort of broke a few parts of me. Mainly my tearducts.
And my heart.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Stiles sighs as Scott starts running again, and begins dragging his weary body after his best friend sluggishly, and with none of his usual not quite grace. He hears Lydia's heels on the ground, her laboured footsteps ringing through the corridor, and Scott's light, quick steps further ahead. Even though his bones ache, his head throbs, and his skin hurts, he drags himself after Scott loyally, a burning need to pay recompense thrumming under his skin.
His vison blurs, and he trips, barely catching himself on the wall, and Lydia slows to a halt, placing her hand flat on his spine, trusting and supportive. But the effort to keep upright is too much, and he sinks to the floor. It presses against his thighs and back, insistent and cold, and he shivers violently, unable to control it.
Scott disappears into the distance. He doesn't even look back. Stiles doesn't blame him.
Lydia crouches beside him, hand curving over his shoulder. He trembles against her palm, twitching as he tries to pull his coat tighter around his chest.
He is freezing, he can't get warm, he hasn't been warm since before he woke up. Lydia's hand is a persistent, almost uncomfortable heat through his coat, and he presses into it as far as he is able, thinking he deserves the pain, and desiring the warmth. She closes her hand on his shoulder, supplying comfort, even though she is somewhat distracted. She is following whatever is happening above ground intently, and all of a sudden she screames, shockingly loud in the enclosed space, projecting her best friend's name into the air.
Stiles is too exhausted to react, even though he knows what has happened, and his heart is breaking, for Allison, for Scott, for Isaac and Mr Argent, Lydia and himself. He can't even move. Every attempted movement feels like he is hauling ass through syrup, slow and futile, and he can feel unconsciousness creeping closer, a sensation he has become used to over the months. He struggles briefly to stay awake, and manages it for maybe thirty seconds, Lydia's forehead against his collarbone grounding him momentarily, and then he loses the battle.
A little part of his brain traitorously supplies him with pass out, it's easier.
He reluctantly, and gladly fades into an abyss, and he wonders if he will ever wake up again.
He hopes he doesn't.