Stiles and Asher sprinted down the hallway, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead.
"Scott!" Stiles called, looking left and right in mild panic. "Where the hell did he go?!"
They skidded to a stop. No Scott in sight.
Stiles huffed and immediately started digging through his backpack. "Okay—fine—plan B. I'll try calling him. Maybe I can at least hear his ringtone—"
"No need…" Asher murmured.
His head turned sharply toward the boys' locker room.
"I can feel it."
Stiles stared at him, exasperated. "Why am I the only normal one in this entire city?! And what does that even mean—'you can feel it'?!"
But Asher was already walking.
Stiles followed, mumbling about supernatural nonsense under his breath.
They pushed open the locker room door, and immediately—
Groans. Low, animalistic.
The two exchanged a look and approached the showers, careful, quiet.
A shower turned on with a metallic hiss.
Asher and Stiles rounded the corner and found Scott—shirtless, drenched, gripping the tiles like they were keeping him upright. Steam curled around him as he struggled for breath.
Scott heard them. Slowly, he turned off the water and looked over his shoulder, chest heaving.
"Stiles… Asher…" He gasped, barely able to form words. "I can't…"
"What?" Stiles rushed forward. "Are you about to transform?!"
Scott shook his head, eyes full of panic. "No… I can't— I can't breathe—"
Instantly Stiles threw his backpack to the floor, rummaging through it frantically until he pulled out—
"Here! Inhaler!"
Scott blinked at it, confused, wheezing too hard to process anything.
"Come on, just use it—" Stiles urged, reaching toward him.
Asher sighed, snatched the inhaler, and shoved it into Scott's mouth. Click. He pressed, forcing the medicine into him.
Scott inhaled sharply.
And his breathing eased.
"Thank you… guys…" he muttered, leaning against the wall.
He blinked around the room, disoriented. "Did I just… have an asthma attack?"
"No," Asher said plainly. "Panic attack."
"A panic attack?" Scott repeated.
"But believing it was asthma ended the panic attack." Stiles shrugged. "Irony's a bitch."
Scott took a few more steady breaths, then frowned. "Wait—how did you two even know what a panic attack looks like?"
"I had them when my mom died," Stiles said softly, voice stripped of all his usual humor.
Asher said nothing.
Stiles glanced at him, brows knitting.
Scott, still shaken, didn't notice. His mind had already gone back to the only thing hurting worse than his lungs.
"I… I looked at her," he whispered. "And it was like being hit by a hammer."
"It's called a broken heart," Stiles replied. "There are literally billions of songs about it."
Scott looked down, jaw tight. "I… can't stop thinking about her…"
"Think about this," Stiles tried—poorly—to lighten the mood. "Her dad is a werewolf hunter. You're a werewolf. It was doomed anyway."
Scott glared daggers at him.
"I'm not helping. Yep. Got it," Stiles muttered.
A beat passed.
Asher finally spoke.
"Now that I think about it… you told me that you and Allison broke up." He frowned. "But not why."
"Oh," Stiles said, wincing at the memory. "Right. After you went to confront the Alpha alone—which was insane by the way—Allison got pissed at Scott. She thought he was abandoning you. That he left you to die on purpose."
Asher blinked. "Oh…"
"I didn't want to leave you," Scott said quickly, eyes widening. "My body just… froze. Not because of the Alpha but… because of you. Your eyes. Those—those blazing eyes…"
Asher's breath hitched.
His hand trembled as he looked down at his palm.
'It's all your fault, Asher…'
[You lowly peasant. You would have died without me.]
The other voice—cold, regal, irritated—echoed in his skull.
'Couldn't you be more gentle? It's your fault they broke up.'
[Who cares if those peasants broke up?]
'Didn't you ask a second ago why they broke up?'
[I—I merely wanted information about the tactical impact of their emotional instability—]
'Liar.'
Asher suppressed a laugh. 'You love romance. You cried like a baby when we watched Titanic with Erica yesterday.'
[That's NOT TRUE! A king does not cry over such trivial—]
"Asher?"
He snapped back.
"Y-Yes?" he stuttered, abruptly silencing the voice in his mind.
Stiles raised a brow. "You're stranger than usual today…"
To be continued...
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Sorry for the long wait, guys... I was very busy those days.