Running With Werewolves (Teen Wolf Fanfic)

Week 2: Pieces of a Puzzle

For the third time this week, I couldn't get to sleep. Something about the change in environment was keeping me awake. 

It was three o'clock in the morning. 

If I'm unable to sleep by now, I'm probably just going to be unable to sleep tonight. Screw sleep. 

I decided to just quietly go outside to the forest again. Sure, maybe it's not the best idea to go to a forest at night by myself, but what else did I have to do?

                                                                      ...

The forest was even more quietly beautiful at night.

Everything was silent and tranquil. 

Everything was silent until I heard howling. It sounded like wolves.

Howling? Wolves? No, California hasn't had wolves since-

I was thrown to the ground by someone. A hot someone.

He had his brown hair in a quiff, and he was now right on top of me.

He clumsily got up, brushing the dirt off of his red hoodie. I decided to break the ice.

"You could've just bought me dinner if you were that desperate to get close to me." I gave him a friendly smile.

He laughed, glanced at the ground, and then ran his fingers nervously through his hair. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually this clumsy. Except that I am, very much so. I'm not really good with my feet sometimes and you probably think I'm an idiot, don't you?" He was breathing heavily, like he had been running for a while. 

"I'm not exactly an Olympic gymnast either, it's totally fine. I'm Dylan." And you are? Please tell me your name, you handsome stranger...

He had a questioning expression. Oh, come on. Please, please don't be one of those people who asks me about my masculine name. 

"Dylan. You're Dylan. I think you might have met my friend, well not so much friend as person who threatens to rip my throat out and makes me question my sexu- his name's Derek. And I'm Stiles." He took in an exhausted breath. 

 "Stiles. That's a pretty cool name. Stiles. Well, Stiles, why are you alone in a forest at four-thirty in the morning?" I looked up into his eyes. He was at least a foot taller than me. It wasn't difficult to be taller than me, seeming as I'm only five feet ta-

"I'm looking for a friend. His name's Scott." He stepped closer to me, looking me up and down. I'm wishing now that I had put some makeup on, it felt like he was seeing me naked.

"Now is this person actually a friend, or someone who threatens to rip your throat out and makes you question your sexuality?" I licked my lips. Was he gay? Please don't be gay. You're really attractive. Maybe I'm reading him wrong, he didn't technically say that Derek makes him question his se-

"This person's strictly a friend. A best friend, actually. And I never said that Derek makes me question my sexuality, for the record." Stiles did a cute little thing with his nose, like a little bunny rabbit.

"Oh, so you're entirely sure of your sexuality?" I laughed. 

He paused for a moment.

"Well I mean... sexuality isn't really something that's black or white. There's lots in between and sometimes it's confusing. But I'm straight. At least 60% straight anyway. Mostly straight," He looked down at the ground then our eyes met, "what about you?"

"I feel the same way. To me, sexuality is kind of like colors. There are generic colors, but a million different shades of each. Sexuality isn't something that you can really pinpoint. It's different for everyone. If I had to identify, I'd probably say that I'm bisexual, but I'm definitely not entirely sure." I looked to see his facial expression. He looked almost relieved, but I wasn't sure why.