dylan o'brien imagines

where are you?

ahh, guys this is my first story, I really hope this isn't too vomit worthy..

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Y/N Point Of View

The cool, winter breeze immediately faded off of my limbs, now having a slightly warm air replace it.

Although the school never turned on the heaters - if they have any, is beyond my knowledge - it was warmer inside, due to the body heat radiating off of the sea of people. The bell had rung just a few seconds ago, leaving me barely early.

As I heard the school doors slam open, it seemed as though I wasn't the only one. My long-time bestfriend, Stiles Stilinski, ran into the, now clearing, hallway.

A small smile crept onto my face, seeing him breathless, clutching his backpack. His pace slowed down, walking towards my slumped structure, with a half-smile of his own.

"Hey, Y/N," Stiles huffed out, as he partially fast walked side-by-side with me. Knowing him, he probably woke up later than he was supposed to.

The thought of him, sprawled on his bed, with parted lips and bed hair, made a warmth sizzle onto my cheeks.

That's bad. Don't invade his privacy and fantasize about him sleeping. That's creepy, stop thinking about that.

I guess I better explain myself, right about now.

Ever since the second grade, I have had a liking towards this socially-awkward boy. The day that I first met him was when I strolled past two boys, in my frilly, yellow, dress.

It was Stiles and Scott, the two inseparable friends. I was abnormally hungry, because I thought throwing away my breakfast this morning was a good idea. The peanut-butter and jelly sandwich that Stiles had been holding, was practically calling my name. In hopes of him giving it to me, I sat down next to them and pulled a sweet smile.

If I hadn't had thrown away my apple that morning, I wouldn't have developed a suffocating crush towards Stiles. Sometimes it was too much for me, the days that I have to physically stop myself from lifting the strands of hair out of his face when he's too concentrated. Or when I have to turn around so I don't give him a too intimate hug, when he tries to protect me from the supernatural.

Speaking of that, the relationship between me, Stiles, and Scott have been rocky. New people have been in and out of our lives, whether they're wolves or normal people. No matter what, all of the feelings and emotions that have built up inside of me, I would never tell Stiles of them.

If I told him, he'll get weird and will ignore me. I'm almost positive that will happen, plus I love our friendship that we all have together. The fear of losing that is too much to bare at times.

I wouldn't say I love Stiles, because I'm young. I've never known what love feels like, I don't know if this is love. He doesn't have feelings for me, so I'm guessing that's what's holding me back.

At least, I assume he doesn't like me back, which I'm 99.9% sure he doesn't.

My fingers pull a stray piece of my hair behind my ear, "Hey, Stiles. What made you so late? You usually get here earlier," I trailed off, looking anywhere but him, suddenly feeling embarrassed about how I knew that. I really shouldn't have been nervous, I mean, he's my bestfriend.

His long, slender, fingers raked through his semi-long hair. "Ah, my dad left early for work. I didn't hear my alarm, so he never woke me up. You know how long it takes to look like this," he gestured towards his torso, "It doesn't just happen naturally."