ripples // teen wolf [2]

01 = Revival & Retribution

I do not own teen wolf. I only own Celeste. If I did Theo would be good because he is so hot and I want to love him but he messed with my werecutie and also Sciles and that's unforgivable.

Song – The Sound // The 1975

Celeste's POV

The lines of the heart monitor next to Celeste's blipped sporadically in time with her racing heart, the obnoxious beeping nearly being drowned out by the heavy breathing accompanying the force of her lungs pumping in and out abnormally fast.

She attempted to sit up from the uncomfortable mattress beneath her, only to be restrained by wires connected to her body.

Impatiently, she tore off the heart monitor encasing her right index finger, and without hesitation, she tore the IV from her wrist.

Celeste barely registered the twinge of pain accompanied by blood beading out of the small wound and trickling down her wrist, instead focusing on her foreign surroundings.

After a moment of delirious confusion, the now flat-lining monitor and the dull white walls surrounding her clued her in to the fact that she was currently in a hospital room.

She gritted her teeth at the loud machine, reaching down and pulling out the plug abruptly.

Silence filled the air, and she was alone with her thoughts.

Her first thought? I could really go for some mac and cheese right now.

Her second thought, however, was one resounding word that made her heart race so noticeably that she didn't need medical equipment to tell her: Stiles.

She leapt from the bed, stumbling to the door on shaky legs. She was stopped, however, by the realization that she was wearing nothing but a flimsy hospital gown.

Grumbling to herself, she surveyed the room and spotted a duffel bag slouched in the corner. Her mother must have brought it to the hospital for when she woke up.

She rummaged through it, retrieving a simple baby blue sweater and loose sweatpants.

Impatiently, she ripped off her hospital gown, pausing when she took in the sight of the bandages emblazoned on her chest.

She frowned, feeling no pain in the area, and tentatively peeled back the gauze, only to discover smooth skin, with no evidence of a bullet having pierced through her flesh.

Setting this information aside, she dressed herself haphazardly and raced to the door. Her medical bracelet was covered by the sleeve of her sweater, and to the unknowing eye she looked like a regular visitor, rather than a patient on the brink of death.

Entering the busy corridor, her eyes raced around the area frantically, until she spotted a boy in a flannel with a buzz cut and his head in his hands, sitting in a visitor's chair tensely.

"Why so down, Batman?" she called as loudly as her hoarse voice would let her.

Stiles' head snapped up, looking as if he had heard a ghost. His eyes flitted around the hall under furrowed brows, desperation painted upon his face. That is, until he locked eyes with Celeste.