• "I want to be selfish, just this once. I want to have this. I want to have you." •
• "You already have me." •
______
Leaving Beacon Hills and heading to New York for spring break, Mieczyslaw 'Stiles' Stilinksi set out on a path of greatness. Or wh...
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Darkness enveloped his slim body. The lingering coldness of the metal door, a welcome feeling against the heat of his sweaty palms. The luminescence of his phone's screen was enough to make him strain his eyes in the darkness that surrounded him. Stiles had only been in New York for a few mere hours and he was already dreading the rest of his stay. He gripped his phone tighter in his hand as he snapped the latch of the door firmly in the 'locked' position with the other. Safely on the inside of Phil's apartment and no longer lingering, exposed in the hallway of the building, Stiles sighed and he gently tapped his forehead against the sturdy metal door.
He glanced at his phone, the black font of Caleb's number filled the screen. And for a second Stiles considered deleting the number. But he found that he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. Instead, his thumb twitched over the power button and he pressed it firmly and he watched as the screen abruptly faded to black. Darkness encompassed him once again. It prickled at his neck and sent a chill up his spine. The sensation was enough to force him to turn to face the blackness of Phil's apartment and he leaned his head back against the heavy metal door. Clasping his eyes shut tightly, he tried to focus on his breathing. Concentrating only on keeping his breaths deep and consistent, despite the constricting feeling in his lungs. The coolness of the metal tingled against his back and he sighed. The air rushed from his mouth in a huff that did nothing to help the shortness of breath he was experiencing.
He felt smaller somehow. Cowered against the door of an apartment that didn't quite feel like a home, running from a town that didn't quite feel like home either, living a life that didn't quite feel like his own. The same trapped feeling resurfaced in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that he didn't know that he could feel outside of Beacon Hills. A feeling that he never wanted to feel again. Yet, there he was. Alone, shrouded in the nothingness of darkness, coldness creeping its way up his fingertips, breath caught in his throat. It was like he couldn't escape. He couldn't escape the horrors of Beacon Hills or the powerlessness that dwelled inside him and nipped at his sanity, until he was nothing less than the husk of a boy that he once knew, that he once recognised as himself. He couldn't escape.
He couldn't escape.
It seemed unfair, everything always seemed unfair. He came to New York to get away from it all. Away from Beacon Hills, away from the supernatural occurrences that loomed so heavily behind him. Away from the secrets, the lies, the mysteries that shadowed his figure. Away from the feeling of dread that clung so desperately to his psyche. He just wanted a break. He wanted a break from being Stiles Stilinski. From being the Stiles Stilinski that solved puzzles and searched for clues and followed the beaten path with nothing but his wits and a mind that raced too fast. He just wanted to be normal. To be a normal teenager whose concerns were trivial and jovial and so cliche that it hurt. Instead, he was filled with the crushing depth of matters that were far beyond his years, matters that no one should ever have to encounter. Matters that were so far beyond the realm of 'normal' that he didn't quite know where the line that divided the two was any more, for he had crossed it many years ago. But this, him being in New York was meant to be a break. A much-needed respite. He had run away to find himself but now it didn't matter because once again he was dragged into the limelight. He was being dragged back into a world that he hoped he would have left behind, even if he had only meant to leave it behind for a short while.
