What I Didn't Finish

Spring

Context: this was supposed to be the last part of my four part "seasons" imagines but I couldn't think of anything other than Stiles having allergies

"Hey. How are you feeling?"
He glared at her and drew in a long breath through his nose so she could hear the snot that was there, to tell her –without actually saying it– that he couldn't even breath out of his nose and was therefore not feeling okay. Allergy season. It hit him right at the beginning of their spring break. Lydia and Stiles had planned a week long stay camping down by the beach but: allergies. Lydia scrunched up her face at the sound, closing his bedroom door behind her before wandering up to his bedside.
"I've become a mouth-breather. A mouth-breather. You know, like that kid in math class we used to all hate? That's me now." He coughed a bit and groaned afterwards. His body ached, his throat was sore, his nose was useless, and he couldn't even sleep. What a horrible season, spring was. He couldn't even smell what kind of perfume Lydia was wearing today. He'd been locked up in his bedroom for three days, his laptop streaming endless Netflix on the end of his bed, and he had already gone through at least two small boxes of tissues. And soup. Don't get him started on soup.

"Well, in case you forgot, I'm the best girlfriend ever." She sat at the foot of the bed, making him whine that she wasn't closer. Human contact, especially from her, sounded like the worlds best medicine right now. "I brought you Gatorade, more tissues, headache relief, and a few movies."
"Have I told you lately that you're the best girlfriend ever?"
She chuckled and laid down next to him, molding into his side and he felt so much better already just having her there.