Stiles Stilinski Imagines

She Would Be Proud

I hesitantly knock on the Stilinski door.
I may not be that good of friends with Stiles, but I am with Scott and he asked if I could come speak to Stiles because I can relate to what he's going through.

The door slowly opens and Mr. Stilinski stands there with a small smile. "You're y/n, right?" He asks.

"Umm, yeah." I say awkwardly.

He slightly shook his head. "Sorry. Scott told me that you're coming over. Stiles is in his room." He opens the door wider and let's me though. He points me in the direction of Stiles' room.

I find his room and knock.

"I'm fine, Dad. I don't want to watch Star Wars with you." I hear Stiles say.

"It's actually y/n. Can I come in?" I say.

"Um-" There's a pause. "Okay."

I open the door and find Stiles sitting on the ground with his back against his bed and a picture frame in his hands. I walk over and sit next to him and pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.

I look down and notice the picture he's holding.

It's of himself, Mr. Stilinski, and his mom outside of their house, looking like a happy family.

"I was there-" His voice cracks and he clears his throat. "-when she died. I watched the life leave her eyes." Tears threatened to spill from my eyes. "You know, she had dementia, right?" He asks and I nod. "She told me it was all my fault, that I was killing her." He paused. "And I believed her." He whispered.

A tear slips from his eye. The picture frame falls from his hands. I grab his hand and he turns look at me.

"It wasn't, okay? It wasn't your fault. She was sick. If she saw you now, she would see a strong, kind, funny, and very sarcastic guy. I think she would be very proud." Stiles sighs as I watch more tears spill from his eyes. A tear falls from mine.

"Why did you come?" He softly asks.

"Scott asked me. And because I know what it feels like to lose someone who was very special to you." I answer.

He sighs again and leans his head onto my shoulder. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I smile softly.