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Stiles still sees him. It.
The Nogitsune.
In the peripheral of his vision.
Out of the corner of his eye.
A smudge of movement… a flash of silver teeth… a shadowy flicker.
Maybe it’s just a trick of the eye: The result of being too tired and not getting enough sleep. Stiles would like to think so – hope so.
Sometimes he hears his name in an empty room. But he read somewhere that was a phenomenon many people have, so he doesn’t think it’s the Nogitsune… no matter how much it sounds like its raspy voice...
He tries to ignore it.
It’s more difficult at night when he’s alone in the house, sitting at his desk at the computer... and it whispers in the corner of the room just out of his line of sight. He turns on all the lights in his bedroom when that happens.
Stiles doesn’t tell anyone. Not his Dad… or Scott.
It’s easy to hide. Especially since he’s stopped spinning in a panic the moment it occurs… even if his heart rate kicks up and his breath feels thin in his lungs. A bit of panic is normal with so much always happening around them... living in Beacon Hills and it’s rotating horrors.
Besides, everyone has their own ghosts to deal with these days.
One day… it’s a bad day… Stiles sees the smear of the Nogitsune in the corner of his vision - can practically hear the gravel stone laughter from between sharp silver teeth. His body tenses and his heart… it beats in his chest painfully fast… like it’s trying to get out.
Stiles stares straight ahead, trying not to turn his head, trying to keep the Nogitsune just there… where he can just see it…
Then a warm hand cups his cheek. It’s a large strong hand.
Gingerly, like Stiles could shatter in a million pieces if he’s handled the wrong way, the palm presses, turning his head.
Stiles suddenly sees Derek gazing at him, face expressionless… no… more like. Holding his expression back. Waiting. Derek’s eyes are where all his feelings live - soft and worried, sad and hopeful.
Stiles blinks and swallows hard. His heart rate slows and his breathing becomes easier. The corners of Derek’s mouth lift, almost imperceptibly. You could miss it if you didn’t know to look for it.
Stiles always looks for it.
The older man doesn’t remove his hand from Stiles’ cheek. Instead, his thumb traces Stiles’ cheekbone slowly. The rhythm is soothing and quieting. Stiles keeps his eyes on Derek till he feels settled again in his own skin.
The shadows are just shadows.
Stiles still sees it. The Nogitsune.
But when he does, Derek is there to gently turn his gaze away, so that all Stiles can see is him.