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Summary
It started out slow, like so many other things that didn’t seem important at first. His smile in the classroom, his alcohol riddled, teethy laugh at the party and his grip of my arm, “Come here.”
We stumbled into his bedroom with a bottle of vodka, a DMT joint and his young face was shimmery in the light seeping through the cracks of the door.
(fragments of a tale about Stiles and Derek destroying themselves)
