Physcotic (au) Stiles Stilinski

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Warning: there are things in here that are ... Detailed. Read at your own expense ;)

Stiles walked into a coffee shop, knowing you'd arrive soon since it was what you did after school got out. He would sit at one of the booths, hiding behind a piece of newspaper, today he was determined. And a few minutes there you were, walking in, you held a smile that made goosebumps rise on his skin as you walked through the door. Wait. What was wrong, there was someone else with you. Stiles's eyebrows creased as he stared at the male figure holding your hand. He felt himself tightening his grip on the paper so much it almost ripped. But as you ordered and began walking towards him, completely unaware he was there, he moved the paper so that his face was covered.

"I love you," you told Jackson who smiled at you. Affection was evident in his eyes.

"Same." He commented, a little laugh came out after. You raised an eyebrow, but cleared your throat to pretend like what he said didn't bother you. But it did. You were expecting him to say, oh you didn't know, 'I love you' back maybe? Was that too hard? "Hey babe, when we get home from that party tonight, I have something to show you, alright?" You were curious to know what he wanted to show you.

So you nodded and talked about something else.

§

The beat of the music, and the smell of alcohol was all the party had going for it. There were tons of people here, of course, but to you it was kinda a drag. "Can we please go?" You asked your boyfriend who wasn't paying any attention to you at all. He nodded your way, but never responded back so you decided to go outside for a fresh breath of air. It was chilly, but not cold enough to bother you.

You noticed most of the people out here were either on the ground, passed out, or heading towards the backyard for some more fun. So you were alone, sitting on the front step, looking forward at the forest in front of your eyes. A small tap on your shoulder peeled you away from your thoughts. You rotated your head so that you could see who tapped you. "You look sad, is everything okay?" A guy you've never seen before asked. He was hot, actually more attractive than Jackson was, and you didn't know if it was the alcohol running through your body or something else but you smiled at the man.

"I'm not sad, just lonely," you admitted sheepishly. He sat beside you, almost startling you, but you didn't move away at all. "Who are you?" You asked bluntly wondering why this man was talking to you and not with the people he may be friends with. In fact, now that you thought of it, you didn't think he even went to the same school as you.

"Stiles, but they call me..." He paused, thinking over in his head that he shouldn't tell you his nickname that he was given from the police. "Never mind, that doesn't matter." He said quickly, but you didn't care much anyway.

The chilly air was beginning to grow on you now, maybe it was because you weren't moving, or because the cute guy next to you seemed mysterious. "I think I should head back in to my boyfriend," you said but before you could stand, he gently placed his hand on your arm.

"Surely if he was looking for you he would've found you already?" He asked, and a frown came to your lips. He was right. If Jackson really wanted to make sure you were okay he would of came to check on you.

"Ugh," you groaned in frustration. "I need something stronger than cheap beer!" You stated, as you looked down at the brown, yellow-ish liquid in your blue plastic cup.

"There's something I can agree with you on," you turned towards Stiles, curiously. You could see the mischief in his light brown eyes, and you thought it was funny. He reminded you of a little boy who had a big secret. And you thought about it more, maybe he did have a secret, was there something he wasn't telling you? Then again you hardly knew him, he didn't have to tell you anything, it wasn't like the two of you were friends. "Maybe I can help with that, though." His eyes slowly met yours, Stiles was seeing what he could get by on with you, he wanted to know what your line was. How big the line was, where it was, and how much time until he crossed it.

Dylan O'Brien (ıṃѧɢıṅєṡ & ƿяєғєяєṅċєṡ)Where stories live. Discover now