Teen Wolf Imagines\preferences

Stiles Stilinski

Fourteen days. Fourteen grueling days. Fourteen days of horror. Fourteen days of pain, of hunger, of darkness. Fourteen days alone. Fourteen days of wishing you weren't alive. You were sure you'd lost a pound or two, and the shadowy circles under your eyes could attest to the lack of sleep. Your eyes had gotten so used to the darkness, that any light you might've been exposed you felt like knives.
You were haunted with vividly horrendous nightmares in the small amounts of fitful sleep you could find. Of course, you weren't starving. He knew just how much food to give you to sustain the dimmest flicker of life possible, but no more. You'd slipped into a dreamlike state where time meant nothing, words meant nothing, life was nothing.

Only there was one thing. One thing that made this better. One thing that kept you clinging to the edge, no matter how exhausting it was. One thing that suppressed the madness bubbling up inside of you. One thing that took the pain away in the depths of sleep, that allowed you to breathe even when the walls seemed to be closing in on you.

That thing was Stiles. That thing was your lifeline. And he wasn't there.

************************
Stiles paced back and forth across the McCall's family room, one hand near his lips as he anxiously pressed his knuckles to his teeth. His eyes darted about quickly, as if he could find an answer to his problem in the nooks and crannies of the home.

"Dude, calm down. We're doing all that we can," Scott spoke from the couch, his head in his hand with his eyes closed.

Stiles paused, whipping around to glare at the reclining boy. "Doing all we can? Yes, sitting in your house on the couch chilling is going to help us find her."

Scott looked up at Stiles with a clenched jaw. "Stiles you know that if I could do something right now, I would have already done it."

The two stared at each other quietly for a moment before Stiles broke eye contact with a shake of his head, sighing and flopping into a chair. "You're right," he mumbled, running a hand through his already stress-induced disheveled hair. "I'm sorry."

Scott watched the distressed boy. "Stiles." He looked up. "We'll find her, okay?"
Stiles pressed his lips together and nodded. "Okay," he whispered.

And as he sat with his hands wrung together, he realized for the first time that he loved you. He realized that he was irrevocably, undeniably, completely in love with you. He realized how much he missed the way you sat on the couch with your legs curled underneath your body. He realized how much he admired the way you tucked your hair behind your ears when you were focused on something, or how sometimes you'd stick your tongue out slightly. He realized how he ached for your touch as soon as you left. He realized how he longed for the way you covered your mouth with your hand when you laughed too hard, or the way you could fall asleep almost anywhere you tried, including his arms. As he sat in his best friend's crappy recliner chair, he realized that he'd be damned if he couldn't get you back.

********************

You started awake with a small intake of breath. You hadn't realized you'd been dozing, and you were slightly disoriented. However, it didn't take long for you to remember where you were, for the hunger pains to return and the cold to remind your body to shiver. For the fear to settle deep inside your bones.

You sat up straighter, flattening your back against the wall as you stared into the darkness in front of you. You could feel the change in the air; someone was with you. You swallowed, and your heart pounded against your chest, reverberating in your ears.