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"I thought..." Scott clenches his fists. Takes a breath. Sits on the bed.
"You thought what," Stiles asks. He thinks about the bottle of whiskey his dad keeps in the dining room cabinet. The last time he'd stolen it, Allison had broken Scott's heart.
It feels like decades ago that Scott's ex-girlfriend had been their biggest problem.
"I thought I was getting better," Scott finally says through clenched teeth.
"The..." Stiles swallows, can't bring himself to say it. He nods at Scott's chest instead. The thing is- it's supposed to be over. Mason is fine, the day is saved, and he's not going to prison for murder. Stiles is saved.
Scott closes his eyes. His hand flutters to his chest. "I healed when the pack came together to save Lydia."
Lydia is saved.
Kira is gone but being saved.
Everyone is saved.
The only person who isn't, Stiles realizes, startled is Scott. Scott is the one that doesn't need saving. Except he has memories of pushing a sword into his best friend's gut. And memories of the sharp smell of gasoline in a motel parking lot.
Stiles can't bring himself to ask again. The silence between them is no longer comfortable, no longer about companionship. It's full of apologies that need to be spoken, of questions that need to be asked.
It's full of Scott's harsh breathing and his own paralyzing fear. Scott said he understood. That there was nothing to forgive. That he knows the difference between self-defense and murder.
They talked about it. It's supposed to be over.
Scott is supposed to be okay. They're supposed to be okay.
"Getting better how?" Stiles asks quietly.
"When Theo killed me," Scott says into the too-silent room. "I wanted to die."
Stiles counts to ten. Then twenty. Then thirty. The room spins, and Scott sits stiffly on his bed. Everything is still too quiet, and Stiles can't bring himself to speak. He has no idea how to express this with words. How to tell Scott that he's the best thing in everyone's life and that the world is better and will always be better with him in it.
"I'm sorry," Scott says, standing. He takes one step toward the door and Stiles stands and runs the three steps between them. Grabs him by the shoulders and kisses his him on the lips, trying to say with actions what words won't.
Scott pulls away first, gasping for breath again.
"You'd have taken me with you still, you know," Stiles says, wiping his eyes. "I'd have tried to kill him and I'm pretty sure I'd lose that fight."
Scott sags a little, but there's the ghost of a smile on his lips.
Stiles pulls him into a hug. "I'm sorry, Scotty. I'm so sorry. I...."
Scott stops him this time with a softer kiss.