A hoard of Teen Wolf fanfics

Look at the mess you've made of me; Sciles

GUESS WHOS BACK BITCHES AND THIS TIME WITH PAIN AND ANGST

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It hurts.

He sighs and he cries, it hurts. His stomach hurts so much.

Taunting him in a restless pace.

He's in love with his best friend?

"Stiles?" Someone asked, his head turns their way and a small smile sets upon his lips as his eyes meet with Lydia's own.

"Hey, Lyds."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine."

And she gives him an understanding look, not really knowing what's happening but the grin is supportive.

--•--

Later on, his heart joins his stomach.

Setting a new beat for the butterflies to follow, their flight occurring more often than it previously did.

Uneasy. Anxious. Nauseous.

Things change when he finds a pattern. Hurts most when he thinks about Scott.

He finds that the pain aches harder and is constant around him. Somehow, it peaks when he focuses on how Scott's lips purse when he over thinks or his hero-complex gives him a more innocent look.

That night, when he's laying in bed with two blankets suffocating him- he patiently waits for sleep to hit him (he hopes for a train). Why does it still hurt?

With heavy eyes and a dizzy mind, he drifts away with echoes of Scott's voice swimming in his mind.

--•--

"Dude, I think Allison likes me!"

"That's nice."

Scott gives him a worried frown, his best friends uncaring attitude catching him off guard.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." You.

Instantly, Stiles isn't even surprised, Scott's words return to Allison.

Allison. Allison. Allison.

"I've never even kissed anyone before!"

"Kiss someone else first then."

Shit. He didn't think that one through.

"Who?"

He can already see his grave.

Stiles Stilinski- died because he's a fucking idiot who doesn't know how to filter his stupid mouth.

So, he wonders for once- lists all the girls in his mind. But once he thinks about the ones who'd make a fool of him never having kissed anyone; it falls to 0.

"You could kiss me."

The moment it leaves his lips, he regrets it.

Suddenly, a bitter taste spreads across his taste buds and he feels the urge to rinse his mouth out with soap.
Without a chance to revert his statement, Scott answers.

"You want me to kiss you?"

"Go for it."

Fuck.

"Uhm, ookay..."

--•--

The time comes for kissing Scott.

They go home to Scott's, knowing Melissa will be still at work.