transcendent ༜stiles stilinski༜ [1] (UNDER EDITING)

15| Inbetween

I stare at the canvas long and hard. Scott and Stiles look over my shoulders. Stiles is extremely close and I can feel his breath on my neck.

"Guys!" I exclaim.

They jump back and I turn around on my stool. I glare at them.

"I can't concentrate with you guys breathing down my neck." I pointedly look at Stiles. "Especially those of you with garlic breath."

"Sorry," he says. "I had some garlic bread earlier and-"

"Stiles. I do not care."

He nods his head vigorously. "Got it."

I put my head in my hands. I let out a frustrated grunt. I can feel their eyes on me. Like I'm a kicked puppy. I blink away the tears in my eyes. I look back at the canvas with the red pencil in my hand and glare at the blank canvas. As I'm about to draw something, I'm interrupted.

"Concentrate," Scott tells me.

I snap the colored pencil in frustration. "I can't concentrate while you stand over my shoulders telling me to concentrate. Now I need a new red colored pencil."

"Well, we've been sitting here for hours and you haven't done anything so I'm guessing an alternative is for you to just stop," Stiles suggests.

"I have to draw them."

"Then draw them! It can't be that hard."

"Well, it is. Those picture. I don't think about them. I just draw."

"Then just draw. Don't think."

"I can't."

I rub my temple and close my eyes. I can feel the information in my head literally crushing my skull. The pain is getting worse. I groan softly.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Stiles asks.

"Nothing," I mutter.

"This isn't nothing. This is definitely something."

A burning sensation starts in my chest and I begin coughing. I cover my mouth and the coughing ceases. They stare at me with wide eyes.

"What? I'm fine."

"Look at your hands."

I look at the palm of my hands. A red liquid is smeared on my hand. Blood. I look back up at Scott and Stiles.

"Now do you want to tell us what the hell is going on?"

"I'm dying."

"You're what?"

"Dying. That's the reason I'm trying to do this. Trying to get all of this out of my head and onto the paper." 

"Try harder."

"Do you think this is like a open book? No, it's not. I can't remember anything. Everything that's in my head is locked up in a vault that I can't tap into. So if I don't find a way to get all this out? I'm going to die."

Scott and Stiles begins pacing around the room. I gulp nervously.

"Have you told Deaton?" Scott asks.

"No, I self-diagnosed myself with death," I reply sarcastically.

"Well, we have to think of something. What did Deaton say?"

"He told me to find a host. Like a crystal ball or a mirror-"

"I'm thinking mirror," Stiles says.

"Why?" I ask.

"We don't have a crystal ball."

"Good point."