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“Stiles?”
It was so quiet in the loft, the only sound Derek could hear was Stiles muttering to himself under his breath. It all played out like a horror movie, tense and eerie. Derek didn’t like horror movies, he’d already seen too much in the real world.
“Stiles, what are you doing?” The closer he got to the table, to Stiles, the more he could smell him. Fear and terror overriding in copious amounts. It was more than what Stiles usually provided, and oddly so seeing as how he wasn’t hunched over and hyperventilating. He was simply sitting there, breath even, heart calmly beating away in his chest.
Derek reached out, placing a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. He tugged on him to get Stiles to turn around. At first it was as if Stiles was fighting back against his grip but then Stiles relented and let himself be pulled backward.
His eyes were open but he wasn’t looking at anything in particular. Derek waved a hand over his face and sighed when he realized the obvious.
“You’re sleepwalking.”
Series
- Part 1 of His Face but Not His Face
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