𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓. '𝘵𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯

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Walls !
‧͙⁺˚*・ 'tis the season ༓☾

❝ why must people make it so difficult to use them ❞

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why must people make it so difficult to use them ❞









            CHRISTMAS MORNING ARRIVED IN THE STILINSKI HOME WITH QUITE THE SHOCK. Christmas, as always, was a time for family. This meant that Stiles and Noah were awake much earlier than usual, making breakfast together. They knew that not everyone did the things they did on Christmas, and not everyone wanted to be awake so early. So they let him sleep in.

   They'd waited. Ate. Allowed the remaining food to get cold. Drank nearly the entire pot of coffee. Their patience was wearing thin, mostly Stiles' as Noah said that they had to wait for Bellamy to get started.

   It'd been a few hours, and there had been no sounds coming from the basement. Indicating that either he was still in bed, or that he was dead. The latter had been a joke, made by Stiles, but it didn't sit well with the Sherriff. And so, Noah went downstairs.

   Noah knocked on the door gently as he opened it. He was spewing something about presents and the meaning of Christmas when he noticed that Bellamy was not in bed, or in the room for that matter. His bedding had been thrown to the side as if he got up in a rush. Noah quickly called for Stiles and asked if he had been covering for Bellamy, but Stiles hadn't been informed of anything.

   Noah quickly began to spiral, assuming the worst. He came up with a million scenarios, some supernatural-related, some completely natural; none included Bellamy leaving the house of his own free will. Stiles had to be the rational of the two and convince his father that Bellamy might have snuck out.

   As rare as it was, it did happen. Stiles was one of the best people to talk another out of their spirals as he had done it for himself many times.

   "Dad, this is his first Christmas without his parents. He probably went out for some air," Stiles assured Noah as he paced in the living room, "Have you checked to see if his car is still here?"

   Noah walked to the window located behind the couch and peered outside. His brand new black hummer was still in the driveway.

   "Maybe he just took a walk."

   "In this weather? It's 30 out."

   "Aunt Rachel lived in colder places. Maybe he's used to the weather."

   "I should file a report-"

   "Dad. Just give him an hour or two before you send the entire town out on Christmas to look for him," Stiles sighed. Noah's lips were pressed into a firm line as he looked at the front door. He agreed to wait, but he said he wouldn't wait more than an hour and a half.

𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 ╼╼ b. talbotWhere stories live. Discover now