[ So smoothly that he would have suspected it was naturally done if he didn’t know any better, Sasuke steps in to distract Jonas and provide Stiles a moment of relief from the spotlight. He bites down hard on the inside of his cheek, too emotionally frayed from their text conversation last night to handle this silent show of solidarity. A sense of helpless hysteria bubbles up within him. What did he do to earn Sasuke’s friendship? How can he possibly ever repay him? Jaw working, Stiles forces himself to count each finger as they rise, timing his breathing to the flex of knuckles. The discomfort in his shoulder abates. ]

Dad’s not like me, [ he jokes weakly, massaging that shoulder as he speaks. ] He’s made of sterner stuff. Had them throw Donovan in a holding cell. If things happened the way they were supposed to, Donovan would’ve been lucky to get out of prison in five years. But nothing happens the way it should in Beacon Hills.

[ Second by second, he begins to dissociate. It becomes easier to recount the events. His gaze fixes on a point beyond Jonas’ head and remains there. As much as he wants to be reassured by how his best friend is reacting so far, Stiles has already convinced himself of a single inevitable outcome to this conversation. Yet a hungry, desperate part of him notes that Jonas has moved closer, that Jonas is listening earnestly, that Jonas still has him. For now. ]

It’s part of a longer story. Supernatural baddies got a hold of Donovan and turned him into a wendigo-chimera hybrid through experimentation. First thing he did – [ and last ] – was come after me.