𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲 ▷ Stiles Stilinski¹

22|the formal

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Question of the Chapter: Whose dress was your favorite in the formal episode?

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Walking through the halls lined with balloons, I had time to pull myself together. Seeing Stiles with Lydia was one thing. Listening to him call her beautiful; that was a whole other ball game.

Once I reached the gym doors I took a deep breath, before pushing them open and walking into the room.

It looked just as good as the exterior of the building.

There was a large disco ball hanging from the roof, light reflecting off of it, sending spots around the room. There were also colored fabric drapes hanging from the roof, and tables that light up were specked around the room. The band was set up on a stage at the front playing some random pop song.

I headed over to one of the drink tables wanting to hold something to hopefully give my shaking hands something else to do. I grabbed a cup and filled it with punch, when I noticed Jackson on the other side, spiking Danny and his boyfriend's drinks for them.

The bottle was filled with a clear liquid, but I couldn't read the label from where I was standing.

I pushed my cup out towards him, bobbing my head to gesture to the cup. "Would you mind?"

He narrowed his eyes, examining me. He looked like he's trying to decide, but didn't seem to trust me all that much. "What? You're not gonna snitch?"

Shaking my head, I walked around the table to stand beside him, he was still looking at me cautiously. I sighed and let my head loll to the side, "No. Because, right now, I just really need a drink. And you, unfortunately, seem to be the only one providing a suitable beverage here. So, yes or no?"

He went to pour the alcohol, but then stopped. I make a whining sound, looking up at him, confusion on my face.

"I'll only give you some, if you tell me why you need it so badly."

Blackmail. True Jackson Whittemore fashion.

I couldn't tell him why, because even if he knew about Scott, there's a lot of other stuff that he didn't know. And that stuff, was really none of his business. So, I decided to do the only thing I could; be as vague as humanly possible.

I scanned the area, making sure none of my friends were close enough to see or hear me. When I was satisfied that they weren't in the near vicinity, I turned back to Jackson. "There are just a lot of things I'd like to forget, and certain things I don't want to see. Just for one night. I just need one night off."

Werewolves, hunters, murderous Alphas . . . Stiles.

I took a deep breath, before saying something to him that I never thought I would say in a million years. "Please, Jackson."

I know we're supposed to be protecting Allison, but it was just becoming too much. I wanted to have one fun night, before it was back to the crazy life I lead. Even if I wouldn't remember it the next day.

Jackson almost looked sympathetic, as he poured the clear liquor into my cup. The smell was strong, yet welcoming, as it began to dilute the color of the punch that was in my cup.

"I get what you mean," Jackson muttered, almost so low it could've been considered a whisper.

I didn't actually expect him to give me any, if I'm honest. He was obviously already drunk, that's the only explanation I could come up with for why he's being so nice to me.