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three
warnings: underage drinking
★
Stiles
"Where are we going?" asked Scott from behind me.
"You'll see," I said. Continuing my walk up the hill.
"I really shouldn't be out here. My mom is in a constant state of freak-out from what happened at the school."
I looked over my shoulder at him. "Well, your mom isn't the Sherrif, okay? There's no comparison. Trust me."
Scott sighed. "Can you at least just tell me what we're doing out here?" he said, throwing his arms out.
I rolled my eyes. Scott's impatience really made him forget the concept of a surprise.
But I gave in because I'm so nice.
"Yes. When your best friend gets dumped-"
"I didn't get dumped!" said Scott. I could feel his glare on my back. "We're taking a break."
Yeah sure, Scott.
"Alright, well, when your best friend gets told by his girlfriend that they're taking a break -" pausing for dramatic effect - "You get your best friend drunk," I said pulling a Jack Daniels bottle out of my jacket, grinning.
★
3rd person
Stiles put down the bottle on the ground in a way that probably would've crushed it if he wasn't so weak. He sighed in contempt and laid down. If one was just looking at his facial expression and body movements they would never have guessed he was laying on hard, uncomfortable rock.
"Dude, you know, she's just one... one girl. You know, there are somany- there are so many other girls in the sea," he said, only slurring on his words a couple of times.
"Fish in the sea." Scott corrected him.
"Fish? Why are you talking about fish?" Stiles questioned, looking up at his friend. "I'm talking about girls," he said, exhaling. "Okay, what I'm- what I'm trying to say is that sometimes, the girl you like just doesn't- just doesn't like you back, dude. She kinda just hates you. But that's... that's just life, man. You can't let that get you down, you know."
Scott furrowed his brows in confusion. Even the grumpiness he felt from the upcoming full moon couldn't break that habit.
"Lydia doesn't hate you. She just doesn't know you exist."
This time, Stiles furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
"I wasn't talking about- how did you- wait, what was I talking about?" His confused expression was quickly replaced by a grin. Stiles looked back at his friend again, seeing him in a bad mood, he frowned and smacked his hand on his leg.
"Hey, you're not happy," he said, slurring again. "Take a drink." Stiles reached out for the bottle. Barely being able to sit up, he grabbed it and held it up to Scott.
"I don't want any more," said Scott, as grumpy as ever.
"You're not drunk?"
Scott shook his head.
"I'm not anything," he said. Normal sober Stiles would've rolled his eyes at his friend angsty talk, but drunk Stiles didn't think so far.
"Hey, maybe it's like- maybe it's like not needing your inhaler anymore, you know. Maybe you can't get drunk... as a wolf," he theorized instead. Scott didn't answer.
"Am I drunk?" Stiles then asked. Completely erasing the smart impact of his theory.
"You're wasted," Scott said honestly. Stiles grinned even wider than before.
"Yeah!" he shouted, punching his fist up in the air. Scott was completely quiet, making Stiles frown again.
"Come on dude," he said. "I know it feels bad. I know it hurts. I know. Well, I don't know." He chuckled. "But- I know this!" He exclaimed, pointing his finger as if he was going to reveal some revolutionary knowledge. And in his own way, he was. "I know that as much as being broken up hurts, being alone is way worse."
