teen wolf imagines (currently inactive)

textbooks & unresolved feelings [stiles stilinski]

The consistent, gentle beat of drumming on my window distracted me from my essay writing, and I dropped my pen and headed speedily towards the bay window, leaving the ink to drip onto the paper. Looking up to try and make out a figure, I started to undo the window latch. Soaked in the nighttime shade, there was Stiles. He'd done this kind of antic many times before, but this time it caught me by surprise. He had told me he'd be studying all night.

 "Stilinski!" My voice was clear and loud amidst the night air, and the violent heave of rain grasped my attention. The boy was soaked, his brown hair flat down on his forehead. A boyish grin plastered onto his face, the happiness clear as day even though it was so dark. I gestured for him to climb into my room, unable to hide the smile on my face. "So, you wanna tell me what's going on?" My sentence was the only thing spoken as he landed ungracefully onto the carpet floor, grunts emitting from his mouth as he did so. "Can't a guy go see his favorite person every once in a while?" I snickered, taking in his fully dishevelled appearance.

 "I'm your favorite person?" I questioned sceptically. He smiled, unfazed. "Course you are." We made sudden eye contact, and the non physical gesture made me nervous. I had to act casual, any hint at us being more than friends was something I had to avoid. I giggled awkwardly, perching on the edge of my bed. "So what happened to you studying?" I said finally, breaking the slightly awkward silence. Stiles sat beside me, running a hand through his soaked hair. "I figured I could study here." His tone was confident until I failed to reply. 

"I mean, y'know, if you're okay with that..?" I shifted uncomfortably in my position, wringing my hands together. "Y/N?" Why did it feel like this? Stiles and I had been best friends for years, we'd been through so much together. At the least you'd think we'd feel normal around each other. And yet recently it had felt the opposite of how it should be, awkward and forced. Like we were hiding something from one another, and I hated it.

 "Sorry. Of course you can study here, you doofus." I answered finally, meeting his gaze with a sweet smile. He nodded, his warm brown eyes lighting up. For a moment, it was just us in the room, singling out everything to make only Stiles and Y/N. For a moment, there were no issues and no problems lingering behind everything. He reached out, probably to grab a textbook from the bed, and his hand brushed against mine. Such a simple gesture, one that had probably been performed so many times between us without question, and yet this time it felt like electricity. I even caught myself wanting the warmth of his skin to linger on mine. 

He stopped in the middle of the movement, his arm raised in mid air. "Uhh. So-math homework, right?" I reminded him, waving a hand in his face. He blinked, brushing off the previous event quickly. "Oh yeah, sorry." I smiled at him with my eyebrow raised playfully, acting as nonchalant as possible. I grabbed the textbook that he'd been reaching for and placed it on his lap. "Let's get started then, Stilinski." He ignored my remark, a blank canvas painted over his normally expressive face. He'd seemed to have lost all charm and playfulness from before, replaced with confusion and another emotion I couldn't figure out.

 Instinctively, I placed a hand on his shoulder. It was a casual move, one with no real deep meaning behind it. One I could perform casually without ruminating about exploring more of his body with my hand. His gaze traveled to my touch, and he responded by placing his own hand above mine. A spark lit inside of me, and in moments I was leaning closer towards him, close enough to feel his breath on my skin. Without really thinking about it, our lips connected. It felt so natural, like they were meant to be against each other. His lips were soft, warm, just like they should be and just like I'd imagined. It wasn't passionate, nor desperate, it was simple and almost innocent. Like we were just figuring things out, but there was so much clarity there too. It sent shivers down my spine and tingles sparking from my lips, lasting throughout the entire kiss. For a moment, it was perfect. And then he pulled away.

 Our connection broke, the spark dampened as quickly as he pulled from my touch. "Y/N-Y/N-" He searched for the word, he knew what it was, just not how to say it. I knew instantly, and my gaze dropped to the floor. "Malia. Your girlfriend. Fuck. Shit. Fuck, fuck shit. Shit, shit, shit." The profanities came streaming out of my mouth, almost as quickly as my heart dropped. Stiles had his eyes closed tightly, his brows furrowed like they always did when he concentrated. "I'm sorry." He finally looked at me, eyes glistening with tears.

 There were so many words that wanted to pour out of both our mouths, but none of them came out. I nodded, biting my lip to fight back tears. He started fumbling to get up and leave the room the same way he'd entered, through the window. I was about to say he could go through the front door, but he was leaving so quickly that there was no point. He undid the window latch, his back to me.

 So many thoughts were running through my mind, one of them being that I'd never see his eyes the same way again. I'd never look at him and see my best friend Stiles. I'd look into those amber eyes, I'd see the constellation of moles on his face, I'd watch him yell about star wars like a deranged fangirl, and I'd see someone I couldn't have. "Stiles?" Hearing my own voice surprised me, the name had slipped out naturally.

 He stopped in his tracks, looking behind him to look into my eyes. There was a silence, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. "I-" Silence. "Don't forget your textbook."