I wanted to write Scott dealing with the aftermath of what happened to him this season. Inspired by this.
Scott always was a very tactile person. Maybe he picked it up from his mother, who always used to hug him or rub his arms whenever he felt down - she still does, actually. In any case, physical contact has always been for him a way
of conveying emotions, of feeling connected to others. A slight bump of shoulders for you’re going to be okay, a firm hand holding for you’re not alone and we’re going go get through this together, a kiss on the forehead for I’m here for you, always. That’s how he showed how much he cared, because words were not always enough.
(When he took Lydia’s hand in his own and she tightened her fingers so hard around his, holding onto him as if she was drowning, lost at sea, and he was both a beacon and a lifeline–
When he brushed his thumb across Kira’s blood-stained hands, soothing her fears away with soft kisses, and she looked at him as if he was the cool rain after months of drought–
When he pulled Malia out of the crossfire and she leaned on him, exhilarated and terrified
at the same time, looking at him as if she was at war and he was her colonel–
When he hugged Stiles so tight in the hospital, crying and promising he would do anything to save him, and Stiles looked at him with the eyes of a condemned man, as if he was the light getting further and further away–
When he put his hand on Liam’s shaking shoulder, telling him he wasn’t a monster and hugging him close, and Liam looked up to him as if he was the blinding sun–
He really felt like he was making a difference.)
(He only wishes they would look at him as if he was just Scott)
And ever since he became a werewolf, gaining the capacity of taking pain away, touch also became a way of freeing people from their suffering, making them feel better (and that’s all he wants to do, really, he just wants to help and save people but somehow he always fails).
But after the last few days, he’s not so sure he can do that anymore. What used to be a way of giving hope, compassion and support, is now just painful. He’s tired, sore of all the pain he’s ever taken, invisible black veins permanently running from his hands to his heart. He aches from all the ephemeral wounds and scars that ever plagued his body, and feels them burn every time someone touches his skin.