It's Senior Year, and Stiles Stilinski has a plan:
1. Apply and Get-In to BSU early admissions
2. Continue to stay off everyone else's radar
3. Graduate
There. An easy plan to survive the 195 days left before he graduates, and can thereby ridden hi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Nights were growing exceptionally harder for Stiles to sleep through.
It wasn't as if he had gotten much sleep prior to all the things that had recently infiltrated his life, but he could definitely agree that he wasn't getting much more sleep since then either.
The ceiling was becoming his most frequent confidant. His bed sheets hugging his back as his feet dangled off the edge of the mattress.
Each night like some solo therapy session for insomniacs with too many thoughts filling their heads at such a late hour. When the world was meant to be quiet. And the only sounds were meant to come from those heard within one's dreams.
No, he didn't have that luxury.
He hadn't in a long time.
He thought he'd been done with this. He thought, after he and Lydia had kissed, everything would feel lighter. Easier to take on. They'd go on with keeping it to themselves, and they'd play the normal cards. Do things like watch movies with their friends and open Christmas presents together as it was nearing their last night away from home. (Stiles had gotten a mini BB8 to hook on his keychain). But as the night had grown darker, so had his thoughts. And everything was midnight.
He got the sounds, but they were just of his own voice, going over everything and anything inside his mind. Drinking tea with his demons as they fumbled through old and new memories.
Some were pleasant. Some he liked to place through the film reel and watch flicker by. Others he wished he could erase entirely. Mainly those filled with death and heartache. Or the promise of both soon to come. But he never got dreams.
When he slept, the milisecond wink that he got was nothing but darkness. Perhaps that was his version of a good nights rest. His version of peace. Just nothingness. The ability to feel, hear, nor see anything for even a moment was his greatest solitude, only he couldn't reach it.
