“It’s the only form of dementia that can hit teenagers… and there’s no cure.” Stiles spoke quietly, his voice gravely as he sat upon the MRI bed.

It was currently moments before he went for his scan to find out wether he did in fact have the form of dementia— or wether he didn’t.

“Sti— if you do have it, we’ll do something.” You reply as you keep your eyes on the floor, before your head slowly turns to face him. “I’ll do something.” You add quietly, referencing giving him the bite.