kiss you // S.S.

Chapter thirty-eight: the weight we carry

XXXVIII

Scott slid back into his seat across from Stiles and Leo with a low, pained exhale, still pale from calming Boyd down at the front of the bus. His hand pressed against his side, fingers twitching every time the bus hit a bump. Sweat clung to his temples despite the cold air pouring in from the cracked window beside him.

Stiles glanced at him sideways, lowering his voice. "Crisis averted?"

Scott gave a tired hum of confirmation, his jaw tightening like he didn't trust himself to say anything more.

Stiles nodded once. "Okay, good. 'Cause we got another problem. Ethan keeps checking his phone, like, every five minutes. It's like he's waiting for something, you know? A message or a signal of some kind. I don't know—something evil though, I can tell. I have a very perceptive eye for evil, but you know that."

Leo shifted in his seat, his posture too rigid for someone trying to look casual. His voice was low and a little gravelly, the lingering exhaustion from last night still curling around the edges of it. "I don't like him sitting with Danny."

"Yeah, neither do I," Stiles agreed quickly, then narrowed his eyes as he reached into his pocket. "I'm gonna see what he's waiting for."

Scott frowned. "What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna ask."

He tapped rapidly on his phone, thumb flying over the screen. Leo and Scott leaned in as he sent a message to Danny, glancing up once just as Danny's head tilted toward his lap. He appeared to be going back and forth with Stiles, ignoring the texts, and Stiles started blowing his phone up, ping after ping. The response came seconds later.

Ethan leaned in toward Danny, murmured something neither Leo nor Stiles could hear, and turned sharply in his seat, his glare zeroing in like a laser.

All three of them ducked down immediately.

Stiles peeked up from behind the seat. "Well, that wasn't very subtle."

Another message buzzed in, and Stiles read it aloud, voice soft but heavy. "Someone close to him is sick. Might not make it through the night."

Leo's face hardened, tension coiling up in his spine. "Ennis?"

Stiles glanced back up toward Ethan, who hadn't moved. "Okay, so does that mean, uh..."

"He's not dead," Scott said quietly.

"Not yet."

The tension was broken abruptly by Coach's voice echoing through the bus, his tone already edging toward unhinged.

"Jared, I'm warning you. I'm an empathetic vomiter. You throw up, I'm gonna throw up right back on you. And it will be profoundly disgusting."

Jared whimpered from behind them. "Please don't talk about throwing up. It's not good."