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...
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
The rest of the night was odd.
Not to everyone else. Just Stiles. In fact, he was pretty sure everyone else was oblivious to how tipped on it's axis his world had become. But perhaps it had been that way for awhile. Perhaps nobody fully understood how upside down his life had become since Lydia. And tonight was simply no different.
It's like the earth. Constantly spinning, but nobody would notice if it wasn't written down in a science text book somewhere. No, the only people who could feel the earth shifting, weren't even people. They were clouds. The clouds knew. They spun with the earth, only a bit slower. Shifting and changing, trying to keep up with the ever altering world.
Stiles was the clouds. Lydia was the world.
Only they could feel the gravity of whatever had happened outside with them. When he'd pulled her close, and she'd stared into his eyes like they were the galaxies she lived within.
And only they could feel the tension that had flooded in like an asteroid, meant to destroy the earth and its clouds.
The asteroid. Issac.
For so long he'd been angry with him. For reasons that were dated and at this point best to just let go. And just when he'd started to consider doing just that, just when Stiles had agreed with the fact that he should let go of the anger he'd held - Issac decides to ruin the one mission he didn't abandon.
And as they'd all sat at the dinner table that night, the others too distracted with salivating at the taste of Allison's cooking, Stiles was re-ignited with that anger. His brow furrowed, lips pursing, eyes dark pits of fury. Issac stared back at him with his piercing blues, jaw clenched tight, utensils gripped in his hand. And Lydia sat in the middle of it all, worry on her brow and legs fidgeting under the table.
It was like they had bombs strapped to their chests, and one of them held the trigger button. Only they didn't know which one would be the one to set things off. Issac looked ready enough, for the first time returning Stiles' icy glares. Lydia just looked plain terrified. And Stiles? Well Stiles had been waiting for his bomb to go off for as long as he could remember. Maybe Stiles was being a bit dramatic. But when someone you've hated for so long randomly decides to remind you of more reasons why you do, things get messy.
