Sciles One Shots

17

Stiles shook his head in anger. He backed up a little from the entryway of the garage, of Scott's garage. Tears pooled in his eyes as his heart sunk. His head spun and he couldn't think of a moment when he had felt more dizzy in his life. It was all too much.

Stiles looked very obviously on the verge of a panic attack. But Scott just watched from where he stood next to his bike. He couldn't do anything, he didn't want to. Scott knew if he did he'd just break the other boy more. It was never his intention to hurt him, he just couldn't do the relationship anymore.

Scott didn't love Stiles. Yes, he did at one point, but no longer. The stars he once saw in Stiles' eyes were no longer there. His world was not Stiles. He couldn't kiss the pale boy and feel the emotions of love and desire any longer. It was gone. Scott was empty. He needed to be alone for a while.

As for Stiles, he was the opposite. He loved Scott with every fiber of his being. His heart yearned for the other teen when they weren't together. He wanted them to grow old together and get married. Stiles saw his life, his future, his everything in Scott. The poor soul couldn't imagine it any other way. Now, as he stood in the darkness of the night, he was forced to imagine it.

Although, he should've known. Stiles should have known that the relationship wouldn't last. They were seventeen. They were too young and too dumb to know things like love. The entire relationship was set to fail from the moment it began. That's just how life worked.

Yet, Stiles has always held onto the hope that it would last.  He didn't see a point in trying if there wasn't anything to look forward.  His heavy heart wanted a reason to keep beating.  It's reason was Scott.  But Scott ripped it out of his chest as he told him they would no longer be dating with no emotion.

That's the tragic moment when Stiles realized that Scott really didn't care.  He didn't care that Stiles had wondered throughout the entire relationship if he was good enough.  He didn't care that Stiles would go home and cry for hours on the edge of killing himself.  He didn't care any of those time Stiles had came to him for comfort.  Scott didn't love Stiles and he didn't want him anymore.

The emotions shown were fake.  Every last one that Scott had shown.  The love supposedly in his eyes, the adoration, the happiness.  It was nothing but lies.  And Stiles curses himself for not knowing. 

Oh how he should've known.

Even as Scott stared at him with his hands clasped tightly on the bars of his motorcycle, Stiles still should've known.  He had the signs.  It was his fault he didn't see them.  It was his fault that at the age of seventeen he hadn't opened his eyes yet.  He couldn't see the world for what it really was.  Stiles couldn't read the true emotions of people.

Stiles stumbled backwards until he was on the sidewalk.  Then he stood, the tears dangerously on the brink off falling, with his hands in his pockets.  He tried to look calm.  The boy tried to pretend it didn't hurt, although it did. 

The night sky shown over head.  The light from the moon poured onto the streets, illuminating them so dimly.  The crushing silence loomed around the boy.  It was quiet and dark, just like the place his soul had fell into.  It seemed endless.

The sun would return tomorrow.  Stiles hoped Scott love for him would return with the new day.  But he knew that something that was never there could never return.  He could not create what never was.

So, he gave up.  He didn't want to try.  There was no use in pleading with Scott to stay with him if he wasn't happy.  He couldn't do that to the boy he loved.  Stiles cared about him too much to force him into something he didn't want. 

His feet carried him down the road.  He wondered off the sidewalk and into the emptiness of the street.  Stiles' hands fell out of his pocket and hung loosely at his sides.  His shoulders slumped and he struggled to keep himself going.  The only reason he kept going was because he knew it was unacceptable to lay in the middle of the street at midnight.  He was already out past curfew.

Stiles wondered to himself if he even cared that he could get in trouble.  He'd done it so many times before, would anything change now?  The punishment would be the same.  The same lecture, the same grounding.  For a vague moment a thought flickered across his mind.

Death.  It was determined that at that moment, Stiles wouldn't care if he died.  A car could hit him, and he'd be fine with it.  A man could shoot and murder him, and Stiles wouldn't be angry towards the man.  Yet, with the probability of death, Stiles knew he could never kill himself.  He didn't have the guts to put a gun against his head, or swallow a bottle of sleeping pills, or slit his throat.  His couldn't in fear of possibly hurting someone.

Stiles was all his dad had left.  He knew as that as much as he punished him that he loved him.  The older man also knew that Stiles knew that.  So would he call the boy selfish if he killed himself?  Would he scream at his grave that he hates him for doing that to him?  Would he cry and cry and cry until he finally passed away from old age and heartbreak?  A worse heartbreak than what Stiles was going through?

Stiles stopped in front of his house, still in the middle of the road.  He stared into the black abyss of a window where his dads room was.  There were no lights on.  The car was not in the driveway.  His father was looking a late shift.  A late shift just for him.  So he could provide for him.  And that's why Stiles knew he could never kill himself.

But, with all that said, it didn't stop the seventeen year old from longing for the sweet release of death.  He knew he had a long way to go before he got to experience it.  Stiles had decades to go. 

The tears fell freely down his face.  His heart had been kicked under the rug.  After this night, there was no hope left to kill his heart.  He was a seventeen year old loving a boy who didn't love him back, but claimed he did.  Stiles was too young to know the pain of your heart shattering. 

He was too young to know the feeling of wanting to die.  He was too young to know death and to know love and to know emotions.  Stiles wasn't allowed to feel this way.  He was only a kid.

So at the very young age of seventeen, Stiles stopped feeling emotions all because of another seventeen year old boy.

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This was really sad to write. 

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It took me 1,200 words to get all the emotions i needed to across.

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I'm trying to learn how to push the emotions across more and make the readers feel what the characters do and understand them.

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Also I've decided to make the last one shot into a book because of all the request.  I don't know how long it will take me to get the first chapter up but I'll make sure to mention it here when I finally do.

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Have no chill and ship Sciles