"That's because I don't feel any pain."
Stiles was completely numb, there was no pain anymore. He couldn't feel Scott's arms wrapped around him, couldn't hear the screams that filled the air. He was just a human at that moment, not a member of the pack or someone's family or even friend. Just Stiles, just Stiles.
Lydia collapsed on the ground next to him. She opened her mouth to scream, to say something, but her voice wouldn't work. She cradled his head in her hands, brushing through his hair gently. "It's okay, it's okay now." Tears rolled down her pale face and her makeup followed close behind. Malia wasn't there to comfort him or tell him to stay, Lydia couldn't ever take her place. She kissed her friend's forehead.
Scott bit back a scream as his veins turned black, there was so much pain. He had to take, if there was no pain then Stiles would live and everything would be okay. At least, that's what he had to tell himself. How the hell could he do this? How could he go on after his best friend, his partner in crime, wasn't there to help him along the way? It was Allison all over again.
The second his eyes closed, time seemed to stop. The sound of Stiles' slowing heart pounded in his head. He knew he was going to die, and that was okay. It wasn't his time. He was too young, but the letter he'd written Scott before they went would explain everything. Why he accepted this, his reasons for throwing himself in front of the gun, why he wasn't sleeping again and why he was broken. The real Stiles had died a long time ago, his body was a shell. His own living prison, but now it was over. He could go and never come back to the world with his friends, his father, or himself.
Everything went black and he stopped breathing. That was it. He was free.