Tuesday, 5:25 AM
Scott's POV
"Scott."
I awoke to a miserable looking Stiles hovering over me. I squinted my eyes, getting used to the light of the room. "Get up, now." He held a stern voice, it actually scared me a little.
I pulled the blanket—that I don't recall using, over my head. "Let me sleep.." I grunted, pulling the soft pillow against my chest. He ripped the blanket off me, fairly aggressively. I was shocked, he usually doesn't use that much force to just wake someone up. That someone being me. "Woah Stiles! Chill! I'm up!" I literally jumped off of the futon, pillows sprang all around, his posters rattled as my body hit the floor. I got on my knees, put both of my hands up as if I was a suspect of a crime scene. "What's your problem man?" I suddenly remembered last night. My body ached at the thought.
Me and Stiles had a make-out session downstairs.
My face was heating up. I probably looked like an idiotic tomato. "You and me. We need to talk. Right now." I stuttered as my reaction. My arms set to my sides, and I stood slowly. "We can't tell people about last night!" My heart dropped, and I got oddly close to him.
He backed away, and rubbed the back of his neck, "I know. But we need to talk about.. Something else too.." He lifted his shirt, and revealed his bloody bandage covering his wound. "What about it?" I stared at all the blood that shown through, waiting for his next move. "Look.." He pulled off the bandage, I squinted, getting prepared to see a gross, oozing mark that will be left on his body.
Instead, I saw nothing.
There was nothing! No blood on his skin, no scar, no dirt. Just.. Skin.
"WHAT THE FU-" Stiles covered my mouth with his hand. "Shut up! Tell anybody, I'll kill you!" My eyes started watering, and I wanted to pass out. I pushed his hand away, and snapped, "Stiles! What the hell? How does that happen?" I asked questions left and right, my brain wasn't wrapping around things. I felt like I was having a horrible dream. Like I was gonna wake up any second, and be found in my bed at home, and everything that happened last night was just a dream. "Like I know! Look, we can't tell anyone. If someone finds out, then you and me are both dead. Got it?" I wanted to just nod, I wanted to say something. Do something! but I was in so much shock I don't think I could have.
"We do have to talk about last night, though.." I winced at his words. Did we really? I kinda didn't want to right now, my body was in so much shock that if I hadn't forced my self to stay up I would have passed out right there in front of him. "Okay." Was all I managed to say in the past few seconds. "What about school?" I wanted to stall, I really didn't wanna talk about what happened. But he kept pushing us to. "Look at the clock." I turned around, where the digital clock glowed '5:38 AM'. I turned back around, and nervously chuckled. "So.. What would you like to talk about?" I smiled slightly. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking like some sort of alpha.
We looked at each other in silence. Only a few minutes passed and we were still just.. Silent
"I'm sorry." He finally broke the awkward silence, and my eyes fell on his. "Yeah.." I replied back, keeping my voice steady. He put his hands on his chin, and walked to his closet stumbling on every step he took. "Stiles, I know you're sorry.. But why did you.." I stopped talking. Not because I was embarrassed to talk, but because I saw him do something. "Stiles?" He rubbed at his eyes constantly. I grabbed his shoulder, and turned his around to face me. His slightly bigger body was somehow easier to move than usual. He felt weak, but I still looked at him.
"What are you doing?" He took his hands down from his eyes, but kept them closed. "Scott. You need to leave. Right fucking now."
What the hell was he talking about?
I got nervous, and pulled my friend into a tight hug. But let go quickly when he wasn't moving.
"I'm not leaving. What's wrong? Why won't you-" "Scott. Leave." The brunette pointed to his bedroom door. I didn't move an inch though, I kept my hands on his shoulders, worrying about my best friend. My brother. The person who I went through everything with, no matter how bad it was. "You're telling me what you're doing right fucking now or I am not leaving." I turned my head to get a better look at him. He still wont open his damn eyes. "Open. Your. Eyes." I told him—No I demanded him to open his eyes. He was hiding something from me, I wanted to know what it was. "I can't. I-I can't do that. I'm sorry." He shook his head, and covered his face with one hand. The other hand was swaying slowly by his side. "Please. I mean you already showed me you're magical scar that just went away out of nowhere. I think I can handle-" He turned around and opened his eyes.
They were yellow.
They.. Glowed.
"Woah. WOAH. STILES YOU NEED JESUS!" I ran away and locked myself in his bathroom. Scared for my life.
"Scott. Listen-" I cut him off completely, "No! Don't kill me! Please!" I was terrified at this point. This wasn't the Stiles I knew growing up. I don't know who this was, but it wasn't my best friend. "Who are you? What did you do with Stiles?" I yelled through the door, my hand on the knob getting ready to open it. "Bring back Stiles and I'll open the door." I cautiously slid my hand down the wooden white door. It was cold, and after all it was 5:55 in the morning.
"Scott.. Please open the door.." Stiles's voice.. Was calmer, and softer.
I didn't dare let him in.
"Please." He begged me again. I could imagine him with little puppy dog eyes, pouting to keep me from being negative.
"What are you?" Was all I managed to breathe out. I couldn't feel my voice, my strength. All that was left of me were impossible questions, that.. At this point aren't worth answering.
"It is Stiles, alright? Now open this door, or I'll rip it off it's fucking hinges."
I almost pee'd my pants at his kindhearted words.
With a sigh, and an over dramatic eye roll, I opened the bathroom door to see a young teenage boy, standing with his hands on his hips, his tongue, flicking around in his mouth, his T-shirt from last night, was still white, but still had the same blood spot from where he was hurt. His eyes were no longer glowing with fury, but secure, and chocolate brown, as they fluttered and gave me a peaceful, yet sorry look. Like he didn't want me to see what I had just saw.
But standing before me was not the person who just scared the shit out of me.
It was my best friend.
It was Stiles.
