No Judgement , Stiles Stilinski ⁴ ✓

[ 12 ] a lack of sleep

012. A LACK OF SLEEP

AFTER being disrupted in the graveyard by the Raeken boy, Aspen made her way home, pulling into the driveway of the McCall house on her motorcycle, before heading in and making her way up to her bedroom.

She dragged herself up the stairs, sighing as she ran a hand through her hair, clenching her journal in her other hand's grip—before walking to her bedroom door, clenching her fist around the handle and walking in.

But what she didn't expect to see was Stiles Stilinski sat on the edge of her bed with his chin in his hands, his elbows rested on his knees.

"Stiles?!" Aspen jumped at the sight of him, "Jesus Christ—you scared me. What're you doing here?"

"Sorry..." Stiles looked up at her by the door, "I— I didn't mean to scare you. I just... where have you been?"

"Out," Aspen said back in a painfully vague and blunt tone, shrugging her jacket off her shoulders as she walked over to the bedside table to put her journal away.

"Why didn't you answer any of my texts? Or calls?" Stiles asked, his voice sounding like he'd been worried for quite some time.

As she opened up the drawer to put the brown leather book away, Aspen grabbed her phone, turning around to him and showing it to him, "Left my cellphone at home," she said, sounding a little distant even just in her voice.

"Why weren't you in school?" Stiles asked, his voice still low and mellow as he lifted his head out of his hands, looking up at her.

"What is this, an interrogation?" Aspen snapped a little, taking him aback, "Seriously—I miss one day of school, normal people do that all the time. What's with all the questions?"

Stiles could tell something had gotten under her skin and this lashing out was not because of him. He wasn't helping, of course, what with all the questions she didn't want to answer—but he knew her well enough to know he shouldn't take this personally. When something upsets Aspen—she becomes agitated, on edge, like a firecracker ready to explode with just the slightest of triggers.

"You never skip school," Stiles stated calmly, "that's not you. Everyone has been worried about you—you can't just disappear without telling anyone, Aspen—especially not now, not when dead bodies are showing up everywhere and teenagers keep going missing. Do you have any idea how worried Scott and I have been? Hell—even Theo—"

"If the next words to come out of your mouth, are 'has been worried about you', you can save it." Aspen said, still snappy and distant in her tone. "Besides—it's not my problem you can't seem to understand that I can take care of myself just fine."

Stiles then stood up, and quickly grabbed a hold of her hands, forcing her to spin around and face him as he stared into her eyes, like he was searching for a sign of something, anything that would explain her current behaviour to him.

Stiles knew well enough that whenever Aspen would get like this—distant, determined to push him away—that something else was going on. He also loved her enough to not let the words she spewed out in those moments get to him.

"I know that you can take care of yourself," he said softly, making her look at him, "trust me—I do. But I'm me—and you're you— and I love you so much that I'm going to worry no matter what. And I'm not going to apologise for loving you, Aspen Bellator..."

Aspen let out a deep breath, easing up a little and softening her gaze—she couldn't really help it when he said things like that. She didn't think she deserved him, his care or his love. She just kept believing that her existence was corrupting his life—a life that could've been easy, simple, and much happier if she wasn't in it.