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Summary
“Scott?” Stiles is shaking and on the verge of tears. He sits down and stares at Scott’s unmoving body. “Scotty, this isn’t funny.” Stiles whispers barely audible. He scoots closer and taps Scott with a foot but Scott is stiff and motionless. Stiles finally takes in the amount of blood pooled around them. Because that’s what it is– blood. His stomach immediately turns and he begins retching. He tries to back away but he’s so fucking dizzy he can’t make heads or tails of his own limbs.
By the time he stops panicking, he’s out in the hallway outside of his front door. The carpet underneath his bottom and the wall behind him are stained from the blood that soaked his clothes. He has no recollection of how he got there or how much time has passed. He has an EMT in front of him trying to soothe and calm him down enough to follow the police to be questioned.