Reacting To Dylan O'Brien TMR TW AA

Chapter 2

Stiles stilled when he heard multiple voices yell out his name- names. He was happy to see them no doubt, but he was suspicious as to why they were there.

"I think that's enough." A loud, dull voice rang. Most jumped, some gladers, some were's, practically everyone but Stan, Annika, Irene, Newt, Minho, and Thomas himself.

"Who are you?" Gally stepped up, yelling into the large open space that surrounded them.

"My name is not of importance, it is the information I hold that you will want. Which do you want? My name which you will forget once you leave this place, or the information to better understand a friend of yours?" The silence that followed was sickening, almost to the point that Stiles threw up. He could already feel the bile hitching a ride up his throat.

"The information." Scott spoke out, not even glancing at the others in the room. Most glared at him for deciding for them, however did not act against him.

Scott tensed at the feeling of multiple death glares on his back, hunching in on himself. Stiles silently places a hand on his neck as a form of reassurance that he was not alone, never speaking up about the way Scott rubbed against his hand. It was normal by that point. Most had gotten much more overprotective when he got back, when he had finally escaped WICKED.

They pinned him to the floor for three hours, only rubbing their bodies on his. They didn't even listen to the way his heart sped up to an almost audible to human way. They hadn't caught the way he flinched when they grasped him and pushed him against the ground.

It took every fider of his being to not fight against them, to allow himself to be in a restricted space, which almost sent him into a panic attack. He hated that moment almost as much as he hated Janson. That was a lie, he couldn't hate anyone or anything as much as he hated the rat faced bastard.

"Tommy?" Stiles froze, the voice- the nickname- made him tear up. Newt- his Newt. Stiles' hand dropped from Scott's neck and hung at his side limply.

A voice whispered to him, forcing him to act physically and not just stand there. It pushed him to walk towards the brit, not once stopping. It forced him to ignore the questions sent his way by the pack, ignoring the slightly hurt look on their faces when he didn't even look at them.

It hurt.

It truly made him want to cry.

He never wanted to be the cause of any kind of pain to the pack.

But-

He had already caused them pain.

With the Nigitsune.

When he burnt Peter.

When he was kidnapped.

When they protected him from every week's new threat.

He was always causing them pain.

He just never admitted it.

At least-

Not until that moment.