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Thirty One, Stuck In A Dream
Empty was his constant feeling, 24/7 & nothing else. Stiles Stilinski had hit rock bottom, and lower. Yeah, that's right, lower was possible. It was absolutely possible.
You'd figured after seeing his girlfriend brutally murdered in his own bed he'd get a new one? Nope. He just got replicas of his sheets. No amount of bleach would get her blood out.
His head stung a little as his gaze lingered on a photograph on his nightstand — her arms thrown around him as she pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek, Stiles laughing. He rolled his eyes at the photo, he'd seen it everyday for the last two and a half months. It was mocking him at this point, taunting, making fun of his fails.
There was a soft knock on his door, his shirtless form was glued to his sheets .. they were starting to not smell like her anymore and this felt even more real. He couldn't even say her name without the sudden dreadful urge of gagging, she made him sick to his stomach.
I failed, I failed you. I'm sorry.
"Hey dude," Scott Mccall's voice was soft and sweet .. like honey. Stiles could listen to him talk for days on end. The wolf closed his best friends door quietly, he'd do this everyday. Their new routine. Stiles stays home all day, everyday. Scott comes and visits, everyday. "Last day of summer .. gonna be s-senior's."
Their lives were such bullshit now.
Scott Mccall was staring at himself, this is what he felt and looked like after he lost Allison. Nothing, absolutely nothing.
He sat gently on the edge of the boys bed, fingertips tapping at Stiles' ankle gently. "You heading back to school..?" Stiles had missed the last four weeks of junior year .. he didn't even know if they would let him graduate. And he honestly didn't care. When he looked into the future it was no more Law & Crime school and bailing her out of trouble while she gloated about how her other half was in the law enforcement. It was him laying in this bed, forever.
"D-Don't know. Probably not." Stiles didn't even sound like himself, he wasn't speaking much anymore. Few words, here and there. "You know she'd be mad at you for this."
"I-I know.." "She wanted you to have everything .. the FBI, eventually becoming Sheriff. You can't do any of that if you don't graduate.."
Stiles eyes fell closed, he never got mad at Scott's words — he was just trying to help. It's just that Scott's words hurt, they burned, cause they were true. True as the sun. "I-I, um, gotta check up on Lydia and Malia .. then head to work. Hope to see you tomorrow man, love you." Stiles mumbled back the words but they didn't really sound like love you too, Scotty.
It took another two hours to pulled himself from his bed. He glared at himself in the mirror, he looked different. Of course he did. First month after her death he went crazy, throwing himself into workouts everyday. Then suddenly one day he just stopped. He was leaner, a bit taller, and slightly more pale, don't even mention the dark circles that burned under his eyes. Which was odd, cause all Stiles could do was sleep .. including his nightmares that had returned.
