Dylan O'Brien Imagines

Really

Stiles Stilinski

Today was one of the days when you curled up in bed with your covers tucked under your chin, hair in a messy bun and clothed in nothing more elaborate than sweatpants and a loose tank top. You had your phone to your ear, sighing in exasperation as your friend tried desperately to find out who you had a crush on. "What will it take for you to leave me alone?"

"For you to tell me who it is."

"You know that isn't happening, Y/F/N."

"Please? Just one clue?"

"Guess, I might tell you if you get them right." She let out an excited squeal on the authorised of the line, immediately beginning to list people.

"Liam?"

"No"

"Derek?"

"He's like five years older than me! No!"

"Isaac then?"

"Wrong again"

"Um... Stiles?" Your breath hitched in your throat and you tried to answer as normal as possible, though your heart thudding loudly in your chest made it difficult.

"No?" It came out as more of a question than a statement and you quickly buried your head in your hands, knowing you had just revealed your secret, which was soon confirmed by her triumphant exclamation of happiness. "Okay, fine you were right, but please don't tell anyone! Especially Scott- Oh gosh, please don't tell Scott!" You rushed, talking into the phone frantically.

"Tell me what?" You froze, turning to the source of the sound slowly. Your brother stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Don't worry girly, I promise I won't tell Scott about your like, massive crush on Stiles." Scott's eyes widened, and you took this as a chance to quickly murmur an apology before hanging up. A lopsided grin broke out on his face, as he walked towards you.

"Y/N Stilinski, I like it." He teased, ruffling your hair.

"Scott!" You groaned, knowing this was only the beginning of the teasing.

*****

Scott sat down on the couch, shaking his head as you instantly lunged towards the DVD player, inserting the Star Wars disc and pressing play. "Really Y/N? Star Warsagain? Well, at least we know in one or two years time when you and Stiles are laying on a couch together cuddling you won't be arguing about what movie to watch."

"Seriously Scott? Seriously!?" You punched him on the shoulder lightly, laying back against his chest.

"Why are you so okay with me liking him? Aren't you supposed to go overprotective-brother mode?" He raised his eyebrows at my use of words, shaking his head.

"He's my best friend, I know he wouldn't hurt you. Besides, I just want you to be happy, and if Stiles makes you happy, then I'm fine with that." He said softly, and you smiled up at him. He glanced behind you body tensing. You turned slowly, coming face to face with a wide-eyed Stiles, his mouth open slightly. You stared at him for a moment, before coming to your senses. You knew running away wouldn't fix the problem, but it would give you temporary relief to your clouded and worried mind. And to be honest, any relief from the utter humiliation you felt right now in this moment you would take. You sprinted out the door, ignoring the voices calling after you, mind focused on getting as far away as possible.

*****

You ran, and you ran, until your legs buckled underneath you and sent you hurtling into the ground. This, combined with the uncontrollable emotions within you, sent you into fit of sobs, opening the waterworks and allowing your tears to run freely. You dragged yourself to a nearby tree, propping yourself against it and bringing your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself. You don't know how long you sat there, curled into a ball. It could have been hours, for all you know, but it could have as easily been merely minutes before you heard the faint sound of someone calling you name. They continued calling, getting louder and louder, until you knew that they were beside you, and that someone was Scott. You raised your head, looking at him with tear-filled eyes. He enveloped you in a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around you and burying his head into the crook of your neck. "I'm so, so sorry." He whispered, pulling back and cupping your cheeks. He gave you a soft smile, rubbing away your tears, but more quickly replaced them. You gave him the faintest of smiles as he stood up, backing away from you to allow room for his friend. Stiles dropped to his knees in front of you, intertwining his fingers with yours. You quickly dropped your head, and audible sigh escaping his lips.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, voice cracking from the lack of use and continuous crying. His eyebrows furrowed, before he quickly shook his head.

"Sorry for what? You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Yes, I do! I-I'm sorry for liking you."

"I'm not." He whispered, tilting your head so that you looked at him. Your eyes were clouded with confusion, tears slowly coming to a stop. "I'm not sorry for you liking me, and you shouldn't be either, because I like you too." He whispered, hands moving to your face to wipe away your drying tears.

"I- wait, really?" He chuckled, smiling softly and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Really."