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[hypercompetent]

Yo, this is Stiles. I'm out saving the world or something, so leave me a message and I'll get back to you.
text > voicemail > email > whatever!

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[hypercompetent]

[ it's been about three weeks since stiles returned from home. healthy, sane, and only haunted by the memories of the nogitsune, he was even starting to sleep more. it's after one of these longer nights, a full eight hours, that he stumbles into the bathroom in his and derek's room and yawns, then stares at the mirror.

wake up wake up wake up

frozen to the spot, it hits him like being struck with lightning and stiles stares with wide, horrified eyes; the panic swells up in his chest and he stumbles backwards, hand shooting down to count his fingers, vision blurring a little as he starts to try and breathe, in and out in and out this is real--

his back hits the wall and he turns his gaze away, wheezing in sharply and crumpling to the floor in a panic attack.

needless to say, it's the last night of good sleep he'll have for a while. ]