thin white lies

Chapter 7

Scott wasn't answering his phone.

"I don't get it," Theo said to Stiles. He was pacing back and forth in Stiles' room, clutching his phone in his hand while Stiles watched him from his vantage point on the bed. "He should have at least texted one of us by now."

"Maybe his phone's broken again?" Stiles suggested. Theo groaned at that, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. His heart was pounding in his chest at the amount of adrenaline, concern, and pure fear coursing through his body.

"I think the worst part about this supernatural bullshit is the amount of phones Scott fucking McCall goes through."

"He was clumsy and accident-prone before he became a werewolf. Let's give him credit where credit's due."

"He's got nothing on you, moron," Theo said dryly. Stiles idly flipped him off, but Theo was too preoccupied to do anything about it.

Last night, Derek had gone after Jackson like Theo had predicted, and Scott had gone to the Hale house to protect him, also as predicted. The problem lay in the fact that neither Scott nor Derek were answering their cellphones, no matter how many times Theo called. Stiles had made a comment that he didn't know why he bothered calling Derek, but Theo had tried anyway, to no avail. Jackson was alright— of course Scott had saved him before disappearing— but when Theo had called him he said he didn't know anything about either of those losers, so stop asking before I break your face, Raeken. Theo didn't call him a second time.

"I knew this was gonna happen," Theo said. "I knew he was gonna go sticking his stupid fucking snout—"

"Snout?"

"—somewhere where it didn't belong, and he was gonna get himself shot, or killed, or worse!"

"What's worse than being killed?"

"A lot, Stiles! There's a lot worse than being killed. He could have been taken by the hunters, or—"

His heart suddenly skipped a beat, then two, and then Theo was cursing as the room started spinning. His legs collapsed, but Stiles was there in a flash, moving with a speed and grace that he had rarely seen in the other teen before.

"Whoa, Theo, just calm down, buddy."

Stiles helped him sit down on the edge of the bed, then dove for his nightstand. The backup inhaler he kept there was swiftly pushed into Theo's hand, and Theo immediately brought it up to his mouth to use it.

"Do you need me to call—"

Theo shook his head. "I'm okay. I'm fine."

Stiles didn't look like he believed Theo, but he refrained from calling Melissa, or Noah, or his cardiologist, or whoever else he had been gearing up to call. Instead, he placed a hand in between Theo's shoulder blades, rubbing calming circles into the back of his shirt as Theo took deep, steadying breaths. Underneath the tangled mess of emotions in his chest, a soft sense of admiration and gratitude for his best friend made itself at home.

"We'll find him, okay? He can't have gotten far, the town is only so big," Stiles said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. Theo knew that Stiles was— well, babying wasn't the right word, but that was all Theo's brain could come up with in the moment. Still, Theo allowed Stiles to care for him. His heart condition hadn't been as bad recently, but he remembered their shared childhood: Scott holding his hand while Stiles ran to get an adult during an episode, Theo having to sit on the sidelines and watch his peers play Little League, Melissa letting Scott and Stiles slip into his hospital room after appointments when he needed comfort the most. He felt some of that same comfort that nine-year-old Theo felt, with Stiles hovering over him and grounding him with physical touch that he knew from experience worked on Theo.