Faded // A Stiles Stilinski Story.

chapter nine.

You were running out of time. You had to find him and you had to do it fast. You willed your legs to go faster but the burn was too much. Collapsing to the ground, you lay in the leaves catching your breath. This wasn't the first time you had run for him. It certainly wouldn't be the last. Rising to your feet, you propelled yourself through the darkness, leaves crunching underfoot as you raced. Your heart hammered in your chest, your nerves were wrecked. You were running out of time. It was almost too late.

You sat there in the darkness, moonlight illuminating the room. You stifled a yawn; you were already tired from the nights activities but you needed to find Stiles. Springing from the bed, you rummaged through your closet, dressing in the darkness. You pulled one of Stiles' flannels from his bag that lay abandoned on the floor, his smell filling your senses. Tears pricked at your eyes but you refused to let them fall. You hadn't lost him, not yet and you'd be damned if you did. You didn't dare turn the light on. You didn't want to see the marks that he had left on your skin, the way the bed looked or the look in your eyes right now. Pulling the flannel over your shoulders, you grabbed your bag and you ran down the stairs. Your footsteps thundered in the silence of the house as you walked into the kitchen. Pulling the thermos out of the cupboard you made yourself coffee, stuffing it into your rucksack before heading out the door. Climbing into the car, you sighed turning the lights to full. You drove in silence, your thoughts roaring through your mind. You could barely concentrate on the road ahead; Lights blurred together, swirling in your vision. You pulled the car over into a layby, your thoughts becoming too loud to ignore.

You grabbed the thermos from your bag, opening the top and drinking the scalding liquid. It burned your throat and you gagged but the caffeine that it would give you would be more than worth the pain. You drove through brightening streets, the sun rising slowly. Rubbing your eyes with the palm of your hand, spots and shapes swarming your vision. It was like static inside your head, every nerve in your body was shot, hair stood on end and your stomach churned. You drove to the school, abandoned in the early hours of the morning. It looked weird, you'd always seen it through rose tinted glasses, the cracked walls were smooth when you were with Stiles, now the prospect of him being gone forever hit you. You walked through the halls, your heart pounding. Walking past row upon rows of lockers you came to his, hoping desperately for a sign of where he could be. You put in his code, pushing on the locker to open it. It was dented still from years ago, him and Scott had got in a fight about something daft and Stiles was dared to punch his locker as hard as he could. You'd spent the night in the hospital as Melissa bandaged him up. His medication had made him sleepy and dopey and you'd laid with him at his for the night. His locker was cluttered, a perfect simile for him. Old looking papers and books were wedged between comic books. Pictures were haphazardly placed on the inside of the door. A picture of Scott and him dressed in full costume for halloween when they were younger. He looked so happy, no bags under his eyes a pure genuine smile plastered on his face, his arm slung around a floppy haired Scott.

You searched through his stuff, smiling as you found ticket stubs from your dates at the cinema. As you closed the door on his locker a photo fell to the ground. It was a blurry photo of the night you had told each other you loved each other. Everything was soft, hazy and warm. You needed that right now, so you tucked it into your breast pocket on his shirt and closed the door. You returned to the car, the sun stretching across the asphalt. Climbing back into the car, you pulled out leaving the high school in your tracks. Pausing for a second you drove to Stiles' house. It was early enough that his dad would already be at work and the key you had to his was in the glove compartment. You pulled into the empty driveway, the sheriff's police cruiser vacant of it's usual spot. Walking into the house, you took a deep breath. The stairs leading to Stiles' room seemed steeper than usual. You trudged up the steps, walking through his bedroom door to find the place looking the same as it always had.