Fragile (Teen Wolf/Stiles Stilinski)

Chapter 11

(Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, any of it's characters, or any elements of its story-line. I do own Faye, her story-line, and any characters or elements that I choose to add in.)

Chapter 11: Faye's POV

"Faye? Faye, is that you? Hey, wake up!"

A voice, a tragic, familiar voice rang in the surface of my consciousness.

"God? Is that you?" I squinted against the bright glare of a street lamp.

A breathy chuckle came from the figure, "I mean, some girls have called me—"

"Oh thank god it's you, Stiles!" I came to the realization and felt my muscles relax as I slumped to the ground in relief. "Are you hurt?" He crouched to my side, his pale slender fingers lifting me up into a sitting position by my shoulders.

"I don't thi—" I stopped as the warm feeling of blood dripping down my forehead changed my answer. "Maybe a little." I grimaced, gingerly touching what felt like a small cut at my hairline.

Stiles winced a little as I wiped my face of the blood with my shirt. I didn't know what to say to him. How do you start a conversation in this kind of situation? Oh hey Stiles, pretty sure your best friend just turned into the actual spawn of Satan, no biggie.

Surprisingly enough, he seemed to already have a grip on what was going on. "So I take it Scott turned in front of you, huh?" He hoisted me onto my feet, a little too casually.

I looked at him in disbelief. "Are you serious? Is this shit a normal occurrence or something?" I kept my distance from him, at least a meter away. After all, I hadn't known Stiles for very long anyway. For all I knew, and I'd seen enough to form a very strange opinion, he could be some kind of weird LARPer or something. I mean, how many other explanations could there be for Scott's animal-like appearance?

Stiles looked a little taken aback by my cautious behavior, concerned. Maybe he's used to more understanding reactions, however the fuck that's possible.

"Faye, I'm sorry that you had to find out like this." He inched toward me, extending a comforting hand, which I shied away from. "Don't fucking touch me." I warned. "Don't talk to me like some kid who just found out Santa Claus isn't real. This is some seriously fucked up shit Stiles!"

He held up his hands defensively, reeling from the anger and confusion laced in my outburst. The light of a street lamp reflected off of his amber eyes, which were darting slightly out of panic. "Just calm down, okay?" He said, cautiously. "It's perfectly normal to be upset and confused right now, and I promise that everything you've seen tonight has an explanation. But I'm not going to get into anything until we can get somewhere safe, so let's do that first, okay?"

Not only had we only met less than a day ago, but I just witnessed my half brother turn into some weird fucking animal, so I had every right to be wary of Stiles. Even with that in mind, something deep down wanted to just shut up and go with him. After all, feeling safe seemed more important in that moment than analyzing his motives.

Stiles did have certain qualities that made me trust him inherently. Maybe it's his eyes, the warm brown that always seemed to be locked with my cold blue ones. Or maybe it's his warm yet slender hands, which he was now placing gently on either of my shoulders to guide me as I complied with his movements. Whatever it was about Stiles that entranced me so much, I let it takeover and direct my decisions just until danger was completely out of the question.

"Listen," he whispered in my ear as we began to quickly make our way away from the phone booth, "We're gonna go to the school and just stay there until whatever is going on out here dies down."