Chapter 23

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[Song: Armor by Landon Austin]

Runaways: Day 4. 

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"Why won't you talk to me?" Stiles questions, briefly glancing over at (Y/n) who had her head resting against the glass window of the car. He caught her shrugging gently, her eyes not leaving the passing road as they drove. 

She'd been silent since they left the hotel, since she found the map, and her lack of words was beginning to drive him insane. He's desperate the hear the sweet voice of hers that never fails to make him feel better in his worst situations. He needed her to say something, anything, to reassure him and to help him focus again, but she simply wouldn't. 

He swerved the car to the side of the road, letting it come to a stop before he turned his body to lay his attention on her, "Just, say something!" 

Her head snapped to look at him, wide eyes staring back and he realized they were filled with nothing but sadness, regret even. Tears pooled around the edges, one slipping down the side of her nose before she finally spoke, "What do you want me to say, Stiles? That I'm completely fine with what you're planning to do? That I'm happy to tag along with your little game? Well I'm not, okay? Not anymore." 

Tears were flowing freely now, down her soft cheeks as she gasped in breaths through her sobs. 

"I'm... I'm terrified, Stiles," She managed to gasp out, worried eyes meeting his. "I'm so scared of loosing you, of you getting hurt. I... I don't want anything to happen to you. I just, I can't sit back and let you do this, only to eventually watch you get taken away from me." 

His features softened, sad eyes scanning her face. An indescribable feeling of something larger than love settled in the pit of his stomach, and he found himself reaching for her. His hands slotted underneath her arms, gripping her sides gently as he pulled her across the car and to his lap. 

She moved willingly, too emotionally exhausted to fight back. 

She settled with her chest against his, legs slotted either sides of his hips while her head rested in the crook of his neck. The tears still flowed, dripping down the skin of Stiles' throat as her body shook with each sob. 

"Hey," He cooed, running his hands up and down her back. "Listen to me, okay? Nothing is going to happen to me, or you for that matter. I know you don't like what I do, (Y/n), but its something I have to do. Its the only thing I know, my love, and I need to finish what I started." 

Nothing is going to happen to me. 

He almost wanted to laugh at himself for those words, but this moment wasn't about the complete truth. This moment was about making (Y/n) feel protected, to make her feel like everything might just be okay for a little while. At least, until the police find him. 

"I wish it didn't have to be this way." She whispered out, tears finally subsiding to occasional hiccups.

He kept her close to him, closer than he thought was even remotely possible. Their bodies were pressed flush against each others, and it still didn't feel like they were close enough. 

It was pathetic, really, but Stiles was so fixated on her entire being that he felt the need to memorize every curve of her body by touch, memorize the scent of her hair and the smell of the last fabric softener she used just in case this was the last time he got to do it.    

He knew he would be caught eventually. Right now was just a waiting game, a neverending countdown waiting to tick down to the last few seconds and Stiles was determined to make sure that he used those last moments he had as a free man to let (Y/n) know he loved her, and that he will always find a way to protect her, even when he isn't around. 

(Y/n) watched Stiles' face churn in concentration as she rested still against the skin of his shoulder. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes looking straight ahead and focused on who knows what and she soon realized that her tears had stopped. 

Just like that, by watching the boy she was resting against he managed to completely send her into a state of calmness. He'd been able to do this from the moment he met her, just about. 

There was no continuous feeling of fear when he'd kidnapped her. She knew she was falling for him within days of him keeping her captive, and in a way that worried her. 

He made her question things. 

They were stupid things, mostly. Like why is the sky blue? Or why are pens the length that they are? How come if she looked at her hands for long enough they turned into something more than just her hands? 

But sometimes he made her question greater things. 

Like why do we always take our lives for granted? Why is something as precious as a human life able to be taken away so easily? She wanted to know why she found him so admirable; wanted to know why, out of all the people in the world, she decided to fall for her kidnapper.  


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