Stiles was prone to panic attacks since his mom had died. He used to suffer with them every day until he started to cope better. He still gets them, just a lot less often.

It's been 2 weeks since void, and Stiles remained in a bad place. You're useless. You're the pathetic weak human of the pack. Scott keeps ditching you for Kira. Lydia and Derek will never like you. You're too much of a wimp to come out to your dad as bi. You should hate yourself. You killed your you're killing your father too. Those were the thoughts filling his head like a flash flood.

He felt himself slipping into a panic attack, he couldn't breathe. He stood up hurriedly, racing towards the small box he kept hidden in his sock drawer, he took it out and looked inside, taking out the thin, metal razor blade he kept inside. This was his calming mechanism. Pain. He slit one vertical cut into his wrist, watching in awe as the blood left his body, the panic coming with it.

He cut his wrist parallel to the last 8 times, calming down. He didn't stop though, his entire wrist was full of cuts, some deeper than others, but all bleeding. He took off his shirt, starting to cut away at his stomach. That was until somebody walked in. He tried to put his shirt on before whoever it was could see, but he failed.

He looked up at whoever walked into his room and his eyes came to meet his frenemy, Derek Hale. Derek looked at the teenager in pure shock. Stiles looked down, wiping tears he didn't know left his eyes. Derek walked over to the boy, taking a seat next to him. "Stiles… w-why?"

Stiles fiddled with his fingers. "I…I… Everything's my fault. Scott wouldn't be a wolf. Allison wouldn't be dead. Aiden wouldn't be dead."

Derek nodded in understanding. "You also wouldn't have met me… Stiles, I need to tell you something…"

Stiles looked at him curiosity filling his eyes "Yeah?"

Derek looked at his hands. "I knew you were in plain because… well, you've done a lot of research on wolves. What do you know about mates?"

Stiles' looked at him with a blank expression "Not much. I know that it means there's some sort of psychic connection, and it's like a relationship. Oh, and you're soulma-… wait… oh. OH. OH MY GOD."

Derek chuckled at his response and held Stiles' hand in his own. "Well.. before anything happens… we need to work out a way to get you to stop hurting yourself. Please."

Stiles nodded and threw the blade out of the window, with perfect aim. Derek looked at him shocked. Stiles laughed dryly "What? I've had practice with throwing mountain ash."

Derek stood up and led Stiles into the bathroom, carefully washing off his cuts with warm water and a flannel.

2 years after that night, Stiles hasn't cut again, and he and Derek hold a stable relationship, which is starting to get even more serious.