Obliviate [Stiles Stilinski | 4 ]

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chapter sixteen

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Stiles woke up with a throbbing headache and dry mouth. A loud groan left his mouth as he sat up in the bed, his hand immediately flying towards his temples, wincing at the pain.

His tired eyes noticed a white pill and a glass of water on the bedside table. A small note written in Flora's handwriting was put next to the glass.

'for your hangover'

He smiled a little, reaching for the glass. The pill was hard to swallow but he managed to do it without throwing up.

"Flo?" He called out for his girlfriend when he didn't see her in the bed next to him. "Flora?" Stiles called after her again, checking the time on his phone.

Almost noon.

While Flora was always up bright and early after drinking, Stiles liked to sleep in.

"Babe?" He tried calling again, successfully getting out of bed.

His head spun a little before he stepped on the floor, finally managing to stand straight after a couple of seconds. "Fuck." He rasped when the sharp sun of early October fell on his face. "Flora?"

Again, no answer.

Stiles was confused, he was sure that it was Sunday morning which meant that there was no school. Or maybe she went to work.

But why wouldn't she tell him that?

A loud yawn escaped his mouth when he entered the living room with one eye closed. When he blinked a couple of times to adjust his vision he froze in place.

There was a blanket messily thrown on the couch while a big pillow was on the other side, showing that Flora slept on the sofa and not in their bed.

"Flora?!"

Again, nothing.

His leg carried him towards the kitchen, his gaze softening when he saw a table with homemade dinner.

She didn't bother to clean it.

Stiles picked up the cracked bottle of wine, frowning when he noticed that it was empty. He gently put it on the table, his expression turning sour when he noticed the meat on one of the plates.

She cooked something for him.
But where was she?

His shaky hand reached for the phone in his pocket, anxiously dialing her number. "Pick up." He begged, groaning when it continued to ring.

He wanted to slap himself for rather getting drunk with his colleagues than coming home to his girlfriend.

"Flora, it's me, Stiles." He breathed out when he reached her voicemail. "Where are you? I'm worried."