Imagines ⌲ Stilinski

|Sedative|

She sits outside the examination room, Y/N, tracing the tips of her fingers nervously over her sketch book as nurse Melissa McCall talks to her boyfriend on the other side of the thin door. Though she worries, she can't help but be relieved that he's getting help. It's all been so much for both of them. Him having hallucinations which have sent him into multiple panic attacks, her having to be the one to help him through them; him having nightmares late into the night, her having to encage him in her arms until he calms down and falls back into a dreamless sleep against her chest; or if he's too scared to fall back asleep, staying up together to watch the sunrise, which was exhausting, but pretty nice. Though it's not like she minds having to do all this. Sure, it's not the easiest, having to watch the boy she loves so much be afraid of his own mind. But she would do whatever she could to make sure he knew he wasn't alone. And if that meant staying up through the night and getting detention for falling asleep in math class later, so be it.

"Everything okay?" She looks up when she hears the rough but warm voice, looking up to see an elderly man in a wheelchair sitting in front of her. She offers him a gentle smile, her hands moving up to the top of her sketchbook.

"I hope so." She says honestly with a breathy chuckle, her thumbs rubbing over each other. The older man raises his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side.

"Oh?" He says, folding his hands into his lap. She nods, letting a soft sigh escape her pink lips.

"My boyfriend. He's been having some...issues." She says vaguely, trailing her long, coral painted finger nails up and down her bare, pale arm.

"Ah. I see," The older man says with a nod, then casting his eyes down to the notebook she holds in her lap. "What's that? If you don't mind me asking," He adds. She smiles, shaking her head.

"Not at all. It's just a sketchbook. Couple of drawings I've been working on, that's all." She shrugs. "You're more than welcome to look through it if you'd like," She offers, raising it from her lap. The man smiles brightly, gladly slipping the notebook from her hands and opening the cover, than proceeding to flip through the many pages.

"Oh my, you have quite a talent.." He says, stopping on a picture of no other than Stiles. It's a black and white portrait, him at his research board, looking at the many red strings pulled across it. One arm is folded over his broad chest, the other propped on it so his hand is on his chin, deep in thought. "I take it this is the lucky fellow.." The man says, looking up at her. She nods, rubbing her arms.

"His name is Stiles," She whispers, as if she's keeping it a secret. The man nods, and Y/N watches his wrinkled and spotted face, watching the many emotions cross over his wise face.

"What's he doing?" He asks, his eyebrows raising, though he doesn't take his eyes over the black and white drawing.

"Research." She murmurs. "I guess you could say...he's a detective in training. Which isn't a bad job considering all the weird things that go on around here," She chuckles. The man smiles softly, looking back up at her.

"Well, he seems like a very lucky guy, having you by his side through whatever he's going through." He says, gently shutting the notebook and giving her arm a gentle pat. A small smile spreads itself onto her cheeks and she nods, moving her free hand to rest on his wrinkled hand.

"Thank you. Mr..."

"Jones. Fred Jones." He says, holding out his hand for her to shake. She smiles and gently slips hers into his larger one, shaking it gently.