Yours (Stiles Stilinski)

Chapter Fifty Two

I stood in front of the Eichen house, as Scott hugged Stiles tight.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Scott hissed at me. Mr. Stilinski put a hand on both of our shoulders.

"Because we wanted to avoid something like this." He grabbed Stiles' duffel bag from the back of the car, and I just felt sort of lost. This felt wrong. Stiles put a hand on my face, as Stiles' Dad and Scott went to the side to talk.

"It's only seventy-two hours," Stiles said. I closed my eyes, and I felt that he was calm. Too calm. Like, calm before the storm calm. I shook my head.

"I just— I think this is a bad idea," I muttered. He sighed, and I felt his lips touch mine. They were there for just a second, and then he pulled away.

"Stiles, I can't help you if you're in here," Scott said, as the two walked away from me for a second. Mr. Stilinski put an arm over my shoulder.

"It's gonna be alright, Y/n. For the couple of days, he can't speak to anyone, but then you can call him, okay? And he'll be home before you know it. I just— Thank you... Thank you for everything you've done for him," Mr. Stilinski said, his eyes watering. It was funny how similar the two are. I see Stiles looked back at me for a moment before taking Scott's shoulders and saying something with determination. I felt my heartbeat quicken, as the pit in my stomach grew.

"Then why does it feel like I'm giving him up?" I muttered. I handed Mr. Stilinski a letter. "You have to give this to him, okay? Don't let him go without it," I demanded. He nodded, taking the letter from me. The two guys walked back over, and we fell into a group hug.

"We'll figure this out, okay?" Scott said. We split apart, and I hugged Stiles again, trying to etch every part of his face into my brain.

"It's only 72 hours," I murmured.

—

I arrived at the Sheriff's office the next day. I felt like I had the worst hangover ever, from being plagued with nightmares and only getting an hour of actually sleep, I already wanted to rip someone's face off. I nodded at Parrish, and he looked over to the holding cell. Parrish grabbed my arm as I rounded the corner.

"Y/n— I don't know what's going on, but I trust the Sheriff. So— So, let me know if there's anything I can do," he said determined. I smiled at him.

"Thanks, Parrish. The Sheriff is probably the most trustworthy guy around," I said. Parrish gave me a look.

"But your father—"

"I said what I said," I stated, giving him a pointed look. I wouldn't trust my father as far as I could throw him, and I didn't have super strength, and I couldn't even pick him up if I tried.

"Fair enough. Go ahead," he said. I nodded at him, and I walked back to the holding cell area.

"Was there anything about the murder itself? Any other details?" Mr. Argent said to Derek from a separate cell. His head leaned against the wall. Derek mimicked this position from the other side.

"Just about putting Katashi's things in a federal lockup, and something about Stilinski being out for the day. You know... If all of this is true, people are dead because of Stiles," Derek responded. I grimaced as I listened to their conversation.

"But is it really Stiles? Remember, we've had this problem before—"

"But we got lucky with Jackson. What happens when you don't get lucky?" Derek said.

"I guess it depends on how much or how little of Stiles is left. You ever heard of the Berserkers?" Mr. Argent replied. I pressed my ear to the door, trying to stay out of sight, as Mr. Argent continued.