Looking Glass || Stiles Stilinski ²

04 || Disturbance in a Car

Episode: Omega

"So, I'll be at your place at around seven?"

Asher nodded, "Yeah." His hands took hold of my face and his lips pressed against my temple, remaining there for a moment. A soft smile curved on his countenance when we separated; I reflected the same look. He motioned me toward the classroom with his head, winking, "Have fun."

My eyes narrowed as he squeezed my shoulder, beginning to walk away from me, leaving me near the dreaded door, "Yeah, sure -" He stepped into the teenager-crowded hallway. I pouted, staring as his figure moved away, longing to be in his shoes for once, "abandon me... in hell... alone... scared."

His quiet laughter filled my ears, it faded out along with his body. I forced myself not to smile.

"Damn it," I muttered and practically dragged myself into the deathtrap that was Mr. Harris' classroom. The chalkboard behind him had the word 'Detention' written in all capital letters as if intending to inspire intimidation. It wasn't the writing that made me feel that way, but the teacher who didn't even bother to look up from his work as I entered the room - I wasn't worth eye contact.

"Miss Levine." He called out, glancing at his watch before shaking his head with a sigh. His light eyes met mine with disdain, "You're late."

And you a dick. I turned to Stiles, who was sitting at one of the tables, looking as miserable as I felt. I retained my insult, "I apologize. I was distracted for a few minutes."

"Sit." He just deadpanned, uninterested in my excuse, and looked back at the boring papers. "Quickly."

"Yeah." I squinted with vexation and made my way to the table next to Stiles – If I even tried to sit next to him, we would be moved without another thought. The buzzcut-haired teenager gave me a brief smile as a hello which I returned. We sat in silence for several minutes, working on any assignments, listening to the unbearable ticking of the clock.

A light 'tsk' came. I lifted my head, turning to Stiles, whose face was smushed between his hands. "Bored." He mouthed.

A smile formed on my face, mouthing back, "Me too."

He stayed silent for a moment before pulling out a piece of loose-leaf paper from his binder and scribbling something on it. It was folded and then tossed in my direction. I glanced in Harris' direction, in case he'd seen and I needed to run for my life, before taking the note and unfolding it.

What happened earlier? When you ran out of class?

We met eyes, his almost pleading for an answer. My pencil touched the paper, jotting down something that seemed like the truth – As much as I was capable of understanding. I had some kind of episode? There was abnormal energy in the room that made me physically sick. I think because of Jackson? I folded the note back up and returned it to him, cautious of not being caught.

His dark eyes scanned my writing, eyebrows knitting with confusion. He wrote a response and threw the paper back: Abnormal energy in THIS room with both Jackson and Harris, and it made you physically sick? I've never heard a sentence more accurate.

I gave him a look. He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, making me bite back a laugh. He grinned.Stiles, this is very serious. It was awful!

And I believe you!

TMI, but I threw up black like Derek did back in Deaton's clinic.

His face scrunched with disgust at the awful memory, and I couldn't blame him; we nearly cut off someone's arm. He had almost died from infection. Never remind me again. EVER. But are you okay?