Uniquely Normal

Masterplan

[Y/N POV]

I almost couldn't believe it.

Stiles Stilinski, my best friend and boyfriend, was missing.

"I've got to meet with the medical examiner and try to figure out what happened with Jackson." The sheriff said to Scott and Isaac as I stood next to them in the boy's locker room. "I've got an APB out on Stiles. His Jeep is still in the parking lot, so that means..."

He paused in the middle of his sentence, and I looked up to be met with his fearful eyes. He shook his head and looked down at his feet.

"Aw, hell, I don't know what that means..." He whispered, before looking back up at the two werewolves beside me. "Look, if he answers his phone, if he answers his emails, if any one of you see him..."

Isaac nodded. "We'll call you."

"Look, he's probably just freaked out from all the attention or something." Scott reassured. "We'll find him."

The sheriff nodded in thanks, before turning to look at me. He inspected my tear-stained cheeks and shivering figure before he spoke.

"You need a ride home?" He offered.

I forced a small smile, which probably looked more like a grimace, and shook my head. He sighed and nodded in understanding before saying goodbye and leaving the locker room.

Isaac and Scott whispered among themselves before Coach approached us, with an obvious somber expression even though he did his best to hide it.

"McCall." He said nonchalantly.

Scott turned to face him and Coach sighed.

"We need you on the team, okay?" He told him.

I shook my head and turned around, facing my back to them as they spoke. All I could think about was Stiles, the fact that Jackson was now dead, and that we have no idea where to start looking. It seemed like my tears were never ending, but I kept my face hard as stone.

Once I knew Coach was gone, I turned back around to be met with Scott and Isaac. That's when I got an idea, and leaned my body back against the locker, squinting as I thought hard, putting all my focus on Stiles.

The werewolves eyed me in confusion, and I felt Scott gently place his hand on my shoulder.

"[y/n]?" He asked gently. I shushed him and tried to think hard.

"I can do this." I whispered to myself. "I can find him."

Scott gently shook his head and stepped closer. "[y/n], what are you doing?"

"Finding him." I said sternly. "Finding Stiles."

Scott sighed as he realized what I was doing. "Remember what Deaton said? You're not able to control it yet, it's not something you can turn on and off."

I shook my head as I kept my eyes shut, trying to block them out and focus on the one person that mattered at the moment.

"[y/n]"

I pictured his face, his small moles that made a pattern across his cheek, his veiny hands, his buzzcut hair, his hazel eyes, anything that could paint a clear picture of him. I thought of his voice, his mannerisms, the face he makes as he focuses on finding clues.

"[y/n]"

I thought about the feeling he gives me, how it feels to be held in his arms, to kiss him, to stare into his eyes. I thought about his flannels, his jackets, the shirt he let me keep, anything that could possibly trigger whatever I had inside me.