Chapter 5 - A Rough Night

Darkness engulfed the world as sleep hung over Minho's exhausted mind and drug him down into its heavy, black depths. Sleep sunk it's poisonous claws into the teen and kept him locked in its unrelenting hold, the icy jaws of the beast clamping over his body and keeping him prisoner against his will.

Something was wrong. Minho needed to wake up.

The werewolf fought against the unbreakable grip of exhaustion to regain consciousness as fear settled over his heart and panic began to swell inside him like a balloon filling his chest and threatening to pop if another single ounce of tension dared add itself to the lot.

Thomas's scent exploded in his senses, but it was wrong. Terror soured the alluring smell and the sickening mix was highlighted by that unrecognizable musky tang Minho still failed to place, but it was strengthened tenfold now. The concoction truthfully scared the Keeper and made his wolf want to snarl at whatever had dared threaten his fragile mate, which Minho would totally endorse right now if he could perhaps open his fucking eyes.

Finally, after much more struggle than he would like to admit, Minho roused himself into consciousness with a final groan of effort and opened his dark orbs to the waking world. The wolf was in a large bed, full of billowing white sheets and fluffy pillows his head practically sank into and a pleasant dark, but not smotheringly so, haze rested over the scene.

Minho might've considered it a comforting, relaxing environment - Well, had it not been for the boy beside him sending those nice white sheets into a airborne, tangly mess, that was.

Thomas screamed, the harsh sound ripping from his throat as if drug out by the invisible claws of some horrible beast only the brunette could see before the noise petered out into desperate whimpers of terror that stabbed Minho's heart which was, for some ungodly reason, a thousand times more sensitive when it came to Thomas. Aside from that, the teen thrashed wildly, entwining the sheets over themselves and with his flailing limbs until it was all one huge, complex knot that made his companion dizzy just to look at, let alone untangle.

"Thomas!" Minho hissed urgently, a note of fear lacing his voice despite the apparent lack of any sensible immediate danger as he shrugged off the last remaining tendrils of sleep and struggled up into a sitting position to aid his friend.

Thomas, apparently, was deaf to the world, ignoring Minho's call and still scrambling to escape his invisible demons, letting out pathetic, desperate cries every few seconds that immediately elicited a protective growl from Minho. The sound reverberated from deep in the wolf's chest and forced itself past his lips before he could restrain it as he reached a tentative hand out to touch the smaller boy's shoulder, ignoring the pressing urge to draw his mate into his chest and snarl at anything that dare threaten him.

"Thomas, man, c'mon!" Minho tried anxiously, fighting to keep not only his pressing dismay but also a feral growl from his voice as he felt his eyes become luminescent against his will - Maybe he should invest in a spray bottle for his disobedient canine counterpart.

"Murderer!" Thomas suddenly screeched in horror, the single word ripping from his lips like a razor blade as he jolted straight up, his honey eyes blown wide in fear and every muscle in his small frame going completely rigid for a brief moment as Minho tentatively reached for him and placed a strong hand on each of the kid's shoulders. The younger male looked right past his friend as Minho leaned in closer, his lips curving downwards as he shook the kid slightly and began talking, trying to bring him back to reality.

"Thomas. Hey, Thomas, you're scaring me man." Minho tried in a fear laced voice, gripping his companion's pale forearms and struggling to keep his wolf under control to prevent his claws from popping out and accidentally harming the other boy. "Come back, Tommy. We're safe. I promise." The boy whimpered, his voice sounding far too desperate for his own liking, but his pride was all but forgotten as the dead stare remained in his mate's hazel orbs, making his wolf practically whine in its panic.

All at once, the trance shattered, recognition alighting in Thomas's honey eyes and his rigid stance laid to ruin as he suddenly collapsed into a trembling mess in Minho's arms.

Minho started at the abrupt change but his sharp instincts and pre-existing grip on Thomas allowed him to react instantly, catching the smaller boy and gathering him up in his arms before the teen could fall against the bed - Admittedly, in moments like this, Minho had to confess that sometimes being a werewolf had odd benefits (Like being able to smell himself on Thomas - No! Bad wolf! Do you have any earthly idea how creepy that sounds?)

"Min, I... I... Newt! He... I..." Thomas sputtered unintelligibly for a moment before his words were lost to horrible, frame wracking sobs that left the boy trembling as his fingers instinctually twisted into the cloth of Minho's shirt and he wailed into the soft fabric, burying his face into the teen's chest in an attempt to smother the sound.

The mention of the blond sent a searing pang of sorrow through Minho's heart, the sting of losing the final part of their best friend trio still a fresh wound he'd deliberately avoided prodding since they'd last left the other boy at the Crank Palace. Still though, his wolf was too concerned with whatever had his mate so upset to dwell on the dull ache the loss of his friend left for long and he pressed on through the conversation diligently, no matter how bad it hurt.

"What about Newt, Tom?" Minho questioned softly, trying to keep his voice low and soothing as he began to rub slow circles into the clinging boy's back and started to rock the pair slowly, unsure of how else to provide comfort, besides the licking his wolf was adamantly suggesting and Minho was, just as adamantly, vetoing.

"I..." Thomas gasped out frantically, twisting the cotton material still clasped within his steely grip into tight fists that were definitely stretching out the garment beyond the point of repair. However, the boy spoke not a word more as his scent ignited with the horrendously, mindcloudingly sour scent of pure, petrifying, terror and took on that familiar, unrecognizable musky note as tears began to well in his hazel orbs, adding the harsh tang of salt water to the already stomach churning mix.

"Shh... Shh... You don't have too." Minho declared hastily, unsure of what he was promising but willing to profess his undying love to Derek Hale, King of the Assholes, if it made Thomas stop crying at the moment. Both his human and wolf ached at his apparent inability to aid his companion in any way, restrained to simply mumbling soft shushes into brown hair and holding the kid close as the younger boy wept silently, the smell of salt the only giveaway as Thomas buried his head in his friend's chest and didn't make a sound, obviously too drained to do anything but let the tears fall.

Minho could face Grievers, and Cranks, and hazy apparitions that seemed intent on petty crimes like knocking down ice cream stand signs like a five year old throwing a temper tantrum, but he could not deal with this. Thomas was shuddering in his arms, trembling like a Parkinson's victim and whimpering in the smallest, most vulnerable voice every few seconds and Minho could do nothing. It killed him and drove his wolf mad, leaving him legitimately concerned the beast might rip free of his hold and start howling at the moon if Thomas didn't stop making such heart wrenching sounds, preferably in the next five minutes. Minho never had been good at self-control.

" 'M sorry, Min." Thomas finally mumbled after a few long moments of silence in which Minho battled with his inner fanged friend to prevent his claws from suddenly making a grand appearance and tried to focus solely on the boy snuggled up against his chest rather than his desire to dismember something.

"Eh. Not really your fault. You didn't sign yourself up to be someone's tormented lab rat." Minho huffed grumply, praising himself for keeping a low growl from his voice before his own words brought a new question to his mind. Wicked had managed to grab Minho because he was orphaned but Thomas... Well, Thomas obviously wasn't, unless Sheriff Stilinski was just some delusional figment Minho's abused mind had conjured up.

"But-" Thomas began unhappily, obviously sounding displeased with himself, before Minho pressed a finger to his friend's lips forcefully, making a irritated "shh" motion with his own mouth and rolling his dark eyes with a jovial smirk tugging at his lips.

"Talking is only gonna keep me up longer, shank." Minho pointed out teasingly, earning a disgruntled scowl from Thomas who tried to open his pretty pink lips to protest once more only to have the boy push his finger against them again. "Just get some sleep, yeah? I don't wanna deal with your grumpy, sleep-deprived ass in the morning." The Keeper commanded stubbornly, pulling the boy back into a lying position with him before actually giving his friend a chance to respond.

Thomas groaned exasperatedly but didn't vocalize any other protest as he let his body be tugged down onto the soft mattress once more, never really moving away from Minho as the wolf expected him to as he nestled his head into one of the plush pillows and went lax almost immediately.

Minho thought briefly that maybe he should make an effort to untangle himself from his companion but his wolf was having none of it, apparently still feeling protective of its mate after such a display of vulnerability and the idea was snuffed out almost instantly. Instead the werewolf snuggled closer to the younger boy and greedily indulged himself in wrapping his arms securely around the smaller frame of his mate as he so badly wanted to, his wolf practically preening as Thomas's scent began to lose its acidic edge and returned to its normal intoxicating sweet aroma. The Keeper couldn't help but feel that the change was at least partially due to his presence and close proximity, silently hoping that Thomas read his actions as the silent promise of protection they truly were.

Minho finally started to doze off after many a long moment, focusing on the sound of Thomas's heartbeat growing steady once more and feeling almost high off the alluring smell of his mate so close to him. The boy's scent mingled with his own, essentially ensuring every other wolf that neared the teen would smell Minho upon him and know to back off - This one was already claimed. Yeah. The Aboy should probably take some time to think about how weird wanting to leave his smell all over Thomas really was tomorrow; but for now, he couldn't force himself to do so. Nope. For now, this freak was just going to enjoy his guilty pleasure and listen to the slow, steady breathing of his mate, the sound assuring him the boy was both asleep and, more importantly, alive and in his arms.

The brief moment of relaxation only lasted a few short moments however; for as Minho lay in the darkness, a slightly unfamiliar smell invaded his senses and instantly he was alert, eyes flashing luminescent blue in the blackness without the werewolf even bothering to reign them in this time. His wolf was intent on protecting his sweet, vulnerable mate and Minho was in no place to stop it even if he'd wanted too. Surprisingly, the teen consciously allowed a low, warning growl to pass his lips as he pulled the slumbering boy still held safely in his strong arms closer to himself, totally in agreement with his internal beast that Thomas should be protected at all costs.

Surprisingly, though, the intruder pushed open the door to the room a little bit more, as if trying to purposefully reveal their location to the defensive wolf, who immediately snapped his head toward the sound, fangs extended and bared threateningly.

"I'm not here to hurt your mate." A small voice whispered slowly and Stiles came into view, looking far less scared than he should at the sight of a wolfed-out dude growling at him. "I just heard the screaming and came to check that everything was alright." The boy continued softly, keeping his tone gentle and maintaining the distance between him and where Minho loomed over Thomas, having hoisted himself up to tower protectively over the smaller male at some point he didn't quite remember.

"How did you..?" Minho began carefully, letting the unnatural color slowly bleed out of his eyes and allowing his fiercer features to retreat as Stiles made no moves toward the bed, as if he knew that approaching would only spark the wolf's protective instincts once more.

"Derek used to be the same way," Stiles explained easily, waving his hand as if to dismiss Minho's unspoken inquiry. "Still is most of the time actually." Thomas's twin snickered amusedly, looking fondly at nothing for a moment before seeming to come back to himself.

"Well, congratulations on figuring it out quicker than your brother over here." Minho snorted bitterly, still unsure how Thomas had actually failed to realize the Keeper's feelings for him after all this time. Good gods, Minho had been flirting his fucking face off to no avail as soon as he laid eyes on the pretty brunette back in the Glade. Apparently, Thomas was blind. It was the only possible explanation to his sheer inability to notice the boy's countless advances. Because friends always get mad at girls for even talking to the other and tell one another "I love you," right? Apparently in Thomas's world they did.

"Yeah. Apparently obliviousness runs in the family." Stiles scoffed lightly before giggling slightly at something Minho wasn't let in on at first. "You should've seen the look on Der's face when I told him I had no idea he liked me." The boy snickered, making a poor attempt to muffle his laughter behind his hand. "He looked like a fucking tomato!" The kid nearly howled in a shrill whisper before giggling uncontrollably and leaving Minho awed that they'd failed to wake up his Sleeping Beauty yet - Wow. Add that to the ever growing list of, "Most awkward things ever thought. Seriously, ever." Also, the boy could not it any way, shape, or form imagine Derek Hale, the broodiest fucker to ever exist, looking like a fruit of any kind. Let alone a bright red tomato.

"I'm sure he likes you too though, if it makes you feel any better." Stiles assured optimistically, apparently oblivious to the fact that he'd just brought Minho's heart to a complete stop mid-beat at the words. "I mean, he practically clings to you even when he's sleeping." The boy pointed out in explanation, jabbing a finger toward the slumbering teen on the bed beside Minho with a small smirk playing on his pink lips.

Stiles wasn't wrong. Thomas had his fingers entwined loosely in the fabric of Minho's shirt and had wiggled closer to the boy in his sleep, a frown now playing on his cute little lips as Minho still had his body raised protectively over top of him rather than where he had been. The brunette had moved to the location the Keeper had been at moments ago and stretched slightly in his slumber in an attempt to reach the wolf in his raised position, a small whine escaping him when he was unable to do so.

"Do you know a single thing about mate bonds..?" Stiles quipped after a moment of silence in which Minho let his body fall back to the mattress and Thomas instantly squirmed up against him, sighing contentedly when he was able to wrap his lanky arms around the wolf and basically liquidizing the boy's heart for good.

"About what?" Minho practically yelped, flushing instantly and jumping slightly at the question, which earned a displeased groan from Thomas, as if the kid were unhappy his pillow couldn't seem to sit still for more than three seconds at a time.

"Uh huh. Yeah. That's what I thought." Stiles hummed amusedly, grinning giddily as if he somehow enjoyed the torment he forced the wolf through as he leaned back on his heels and gripped the door in his hand. "I'll take you guys to see Deaton tomorrow. He's a good dude, should be able to help you." The brunette declared easily and began to swing the door closed despite how confusing and full of unanswered questions his last sentence had been but abruptly he paused, looking distant and forlorn all of the sudden.

"He seems to suffer a lot." Stiles began slowly, his hazel eyes almost cloudy in a way as they locked on Thomas but Minho merely blinked in confusion before tentatively nodding, unsure of where this was going. "Just..." The boy continued through gritted teeth, as if struggling with something before awareness finally lit in his amber orbs once more. "Just be careful, okay?" Stiles finally concluded hastily but pushed the door the remainder of the way closed before Minho could even begin to think of a response to such an off and unexplainable statement.