ever since the nogitsune took control of stiles’ body, he was restless. every last thing that *creature* did in his body played out behind his closed eyelids. every time they fell shut. so thomas barely slept— he did, as much as he could, but would always wake with his chest heaving and breaths short. not everyone noticed. maybe they did, but no one dared say anything, just stared at his fallen expression as if that could make it disappear. me and him, though.. we were close before, talking about stupid stuff in daylight and conspiring about the dark side of life in the dark. things shifted, obviously. we were still friends, best friends, but the deep stuff never felt real enough. sometimes, though, he would call in the night, words shaky as he tried to fight off a creeping panic attack, never with success. i always talked to him on speaker, listened as he succumbed to the darkness of his mind. he never told me about the reason, and i didn’t push, but at least i was there when he called. some nights, i was about to burst through his door, not even caring about the streets between us. tonight was one of those nights. the worst one i’ve encountered so far. i woke up to my phone ringing restlessly on my bedside table.