middaeg | this is the life you see

Entry tags:

this is the life you see

Who: Sasuke Uchiha

eyeforaneye, Jonas Ward

coherer, Stiles Stilinski

mensrea
When: Feb. 12
Where: Casa de Stiles + Jonas
What: Sasuke visits to receive help with monster transformation symptoms. Things go some varying level of awry.
Warnings: Possible violence, language, and drama.

[ After this conversation and his last sent message, it takes approximately ten more seconds for Sasuke to reach the front door. His watch is tucked safely away within the confines of his cloak, fabric smoothed down before he's reaching out to knock sharply on the door.

All he can hope now is that Jonas was telling the truth and that Stiles won't be the one to answer the door. Not to say he has any real problems with him, but their interactions have proven to be... unpredictable. ]

I'm outside. You can let me in.

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[ Honestly, it’s a damn relief to put this conversation on hold. Stiles has become looser in discussing the ongoings of his home world with other Mirrorbound, but he’s not sure how Jonas will take it yet. Probably well, to be fair – he’s just trying to keep his one semi-normal friendship as normal as possible, going forward. ]

Blood, [ he corrects with a low, grim confidence, but Stiles gets the impression Jonas probably already has realized that much. Then, a bit louder: ] Sasuke?

[ Silence. The alley seems bereft of any and all activity. He still hesitates, shining the light from his phone over every visible inch of the area before finally stepping forward. Swallowing, he jerks his head at Jonas, as if to say, “Okay, you try calling out.” ]

(his stomach rolls with a confirmation that's expected but no less jarring to hear. this environment is doing nothing to assuage his fears, really ill at the reality of the situation they're in. a friend was forced to betray his humanity and kill whatever's left soaking into cobblestone. fresh, frightful.

an arm comes up to block his nose and mouth, breathing into his sleeve.)

There's no way I'm doing that. (whispered adamantly.) I don't actually want him to hear us, so why do you? ... god, I think I'm gonna' be sick.

What? [ he whispers back, totally baffled. ] What did you think the point of coming out here was!?

[ Really, it’s so strange to be this out-of-sync with a partner. That’s the issue, though: Jonas isn’t a partner. At least, not in the sense that Stiles is unconsciously treating him. This isn’t a friend from the pack who knows what the expectation is on a mission like this. Stiles doesn’t want to assume too much about Jonas’ own world, but it seems as if it may have been fairly normal. This is probably a lot for him to take in; Stiles needs to keep that in mind and explain himself better if he wants to keep them both safe. ]

I was hoping we could talk him down before he hurts someone. Snap him out of it. Then, if possible, get him something he can safely feed on.

[ Sympathetic, he moves to pat Jonas’ shoulder as the other teen balks at the blood, then recalls the way Jonas reacted to his touch in the kitchen and drops his arm instead. ]

Wanna watch my back? I’m gonna head in. Or do you need a minute?

[ And, before Jonas can answer, Stiles’ cell phone finally dies – the light that had been illuminating the area vanishes into inky darkness, punctuated by a groaned curse from Stiles himself. ]

("safely feed on" is what seems to do him. coupled with the sudden lack of light, something he's almost thankful for—accustomed to operating within it—as he leans against the brick wall with a guttural heave. he's no stranger to puking himself better, hangovers preparing him for what is inevitably a cleansing of a sick body. so there's no ceremony to it, a one-and-done spew with a sharp spit.)

Dude.

(fumbles with his watch to give them what little ambient glow he can. his own cell phone lies in the cottage, hidden under a pile of the things he's already collected. no charger, no power.)

I thou–hhhueh... thought we were gonna' find signs, then– I don't know... head back? (wiping his mouth with a full body shake, tucking his arms into a tight cross before venturing back to a more defensible location.) You came to look for him and I came to make sure you didn't die horribly like– like whatever that was did.

If this'll be good for you, investigate. I don't need to go anywhere near that.

[ The very sound of the act is nearly enough to make Stiles’ stomach heave in sympathy, though he steels himself with a heavy swallow. He aches to offer Jonas a water or a shoulder to lean on; Stiles remembers reacting with similar horror and disgust the first several occasions he came across corpses. The fact that he’s become so accustomed to blood, where before the smell of it would make him sick…it feels like Stiles has lost something, something he’ll never get back. If he can prevent Jonas from also losing that something, he will. ]

Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. It’ll help if you’re noisy about it. Take it from someone who has a lot of panic attacks.

[ Advice given, Stiles takes a deep breath himself and then enters the alley. He isn’t gone longer than three minutes; when he reemerges, there’s a look of grim satisfaction on his face. ]

The snow melted too much on the opposite end. I can’t follow the trail any further. [ Despite that, he doesn’t seem disappointed. ] The footprints in the alley are a mess. It…doesn’t look like he was fighting.

[ He was trying to catch something, he thinks, but he doesn’t know where the thought comes from. It just feels like…instinctive knowledge. Stiles refuses to dwell further on it. ]

C’mon. Let’s head back. He should be okay.

(noisy breaths don't help him with his non-existent panic attack, but they do fight back his nausea extremely well. in through the nose and out through the mouth, the tried and true method of coping with literally anything from stress to pain.)

Are you some kinda' tracking expert? (a genuine question posed when he gets his shit together, sighing deep at the blood before shaking his head.) There's– that's a lot. I don't know. I'm not gonna' look a gift horse in the mouth and refuse to go back, but how do you know he's okay?

(an obvious addition, already reaching out to beckon him offsite.)

Or that... the person or thing he attacked is okay?

I don’t – not for sure.

[ The gesture to leave is met with a nod of agreement from Stiles. He hustles over to Jonas’ side while shoving fisted hands under his armpits, trying to warm numb fingers. On the return home, he’s much less suspicious of their surroundings. ]

My dad’s a cop, [ he begins, a somber pitch to his voice at mention of the Sheriff. ] I’m definitely not an expert, but… I’ve been kinda dealing with stuff like this for a while, back home. There was only one pair of footprints in the alley before I walked through. I wasn’t sure why the tracks got so messed up toward the middle at first, then I thought maybe he was trying to catch something – something too light to leave prints behind. So, whatever bled? Probably an animal. The footprints would have been deeper if he was carrying something heavier.

Seriously? (stiles' dad being a cop... he doesn't know why it's strange to hear.

he's had too many run-ins that've tainted his overall opinion of them, but he'd be hard-pressed to say something like that aloud. it's unnecessary, and if stiles is this friendly then he's sure some of that translates to the sheriff. the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all.)

Man, I had no idea. It's really cool you can tell all that from blood spatter and a few footprints. I feel like, one hundred percent better about the situation. (tries to keep his watch up despite the cold that makes him want to curl up in a pile of blankets and sleep.) Okay, not one hundred percent, but maybe a middling fifty or sixty. Which is still an improvement.

(hot huff clouding, jonas gives a cold sniff and shrugs broad shoulders.)

Could you teach me that? How to look at stuff like that?

Hey, I can accept fifty or sixty. Almost a passing grade, dude. It’s not like I’ve ever been an overachiever.

[ Melted snow has seeped through the fabric of his shoes. Stiles mentally sighs; soggy socks really are the worst. ]

If you wanna learn, I can try to teach you. Hopefully without the need of actual crime scenes, ha. But why’re you interested?

I don't know. (he confesses, thinking it interesting. could be decent training for when he heads out to hunt with arthur as well, feeling the need to impress the man.) If we're gonna' be following Sasuke around, I should probably know these things, right? So I can help out.

(raises an arm to tuck it comfortably behind his head, trying not to think about the state sasuke's in right now. he has to stay calm and think rationally about this. it's better for everyone if they just go back to the cottage.

it's well within sight now, at least, after a moment more of idle walking and splashing through slush.)

Can't just make you shoulder all this on your own, now, can I?

[ A small, selfish part of Stiles doesn’t want to share what he’s learned. It took him so long – stalking police radio chatter, watching brutal, detective-related documentaries, experiencing grisly crime scenes firsthand – to even get to this point. Honestly? He can’t help feeling like it’s the only valuable skills he has to offer, especially after said skill fell out of practical use back home when the rest of the pack could track through scent. But he understands where his housemate is coming from. And, more importantly, it’s Jonas asking. So, he shoves aside his childish sentiments. ]

I’ll teach you, [ Stiles says firmly, just to get it out of the way. ] I need you to know, though… You’re not making me shoulder it alone. I mean, c’mon. This is kinda my mess, and you came to help anyway. And if you hadn’t stepped in, back in the kitchen, things might’ve gotten a hell of a lot messier.

[ Sight of the cottage up ahead is cause for celebration, in his opinion. Aware of Jonas’ previous injury and illness, he tries to restrain his pace from picking up automatically. ]

Yeah, sorry, I just... say that stuff automatically. (a bit of a bad habit, taking on problems that aren't meant to be his; people can handle themselves. he has to remember not to help when help isn't asked for, considering zelda's told him off for it already.) I feel useless in situations like these, and I think that's how it manifests.

(approaching the cottage, jonas still manages to shoot stiles a grateful half-smile while ignoring how lightheaded the evening's made him. guess he needs to watch out not to get hurt around sasuke too, if it'll cause alarm like it did tonight.)

I know I'm not expected to know the first thing about the mind-boggling stuff that's been happening, but I should learn it eventually. Especially if we're gonna' be here forever.

(uh, well.)

Not... forever. (not really, right?) I mean like, for the foreseeable future.

Definitely not forever. Just a little vacation.

[ Opening the door for Jonas, he gestures the other boy inside first. ]

But I get you, man. I used to feel the same way. Like I had to prove my worth and right to be present.

[ He still feels that way, though it might not be particularly inspiring to tell Jonas as much. ]

Haha, seriously... so entitled. Like, I definitely deserve some of the scorn and side-eyeing.

(a "thanks" is given automatically, ducking in with a relieved shiver at the rush of warm air.)

I don't get how people can do that to others. Completely shut them down like that and not feel guilty about it. For what it's worth, I'll try not to do that to you. (huffs a shier laugh, hands wringing to rid the cold from his knuckles.) Just... punch me real hard if I'm ever a dick, okay?

[ The door clicks shut with finality, an official end to a tumultuous night. Stiles leans his forehead against the wood for a moment, simply breathing, then turns to face Jonas. ]

Nah, I’ll pass. Wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty mug of yours, [ he teases, halfheartedly. ] Seriously though. You’re good, dude. I doubt you’ll ever be a “dick.” But if it happens, I’ll talk to you about it like a big boy, okay?

Oh, how sweet. (wryly, aiming a gentle shove at his arm to get him away from the door.

that's more enough adventure for one day.) If the situation's ever reversed... for you, I'll use my words.

Now go take a load off, alright? (motioning towards the stairs before turning his back on him, staring down the archway into the kitchen. doom.) The kitchen's my responsibility, so I'm gonna' clean that up before I even think about resting. Or this whole place is gonna' smell more like pickles than it already does with two teenagers living in it.

[ Stiles hesitates. While he may not have the full context on what happened in the kitchen prior to his appearance, he would never want Jonas to feel like a mistake was “his responsibility.” But there’s an itch wriggling beneath his skin, the familiar restlessness that comes when his brain is hyperfixated on something. Back upstairs, he has the notes that Sasuke sent over pertaining to each Monster type; Stiles is dying to review the Vampire information now. ]

Don’t strain your hand. [ With one last glance at Jonas, he turns toward the stairs. ] And call up if you need me. I’ll be awake.

Yeah, yeah. I read you loud and clear, mom. (cocking a hip, hands planting over them in a very demonstrative "get goin'."

then, when stiles disappears, he follows suit. heading to the kitchen for a long clean-up, but one that'll take his mind off of things. he's never been more thankful for that and the spread of blood, vinegar, and pickles.)

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this is the life you see

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/fin!!!!!!