fragile | teen wolf

TWENTY-ONE | STAY AWAKE

Rhea sat cross-legged on Stiles' bed, her hands laid limp in her lap. The brunette was exhausted, mentally, and physically. She wanted to go home, but it was dangerous considering the hunters were searching for her family, and now, she had a stalker. It didn't help that she still had side effects from the heavy amount of wolfsbane in her veins. Rhea tugged at the hem of her cropped tank, the girl wanting nothing more than to change into something more comfortable other than party clothes and heels. Preferably a pair of sweatpants, a random tee, and Stiles' hoodie. Rhea laid back, humming in relief due to the comfortable mattress that conformed around her body shape. She thought about when once they were done helping to solve these murders, she and Stiles could relax and finish the Star Wars marathon he had promised her. Lastly, she wanted her brother on her side. After the dangerous situations she kept finding herself in, she couldn't care less if he bossed her around, she missed him. It didn't help that her brother wasn't picking up his phone. She left dozens of messages, hoping that he would get annoyed enough to answer her soon.

Stiles wandered over to the brunette, plopping down next to her head, the boy making her bounce from the force on the bed. With her eyes closed, Rhea shimmied back, resting her head on his thigh. She suppressed a laugh as Stiles' body tensed. They relaxed, Rhea sighing heavily, when she felt his eyes on her. "I'm fine," she spoke, lightly, her eyelids peeling open, their eyes connecting. Stiles nodded at her soft reply, his hand brushing through her baby hairs and resting on her cheekbone. "You know what? After this, we are going to take a well-deserved trip to the beach," Stiles suggested with a goofy grin. Rhea craned her neck to the side, smiling up at him from his words. "I've never been to the beach," she said, thinking of the cool ocean waters against her skin and the hot sand between her toes. She shook the dream-like thought from her mind and giggled at his disbelief. "You lived on the east coast for six years and you never went to the beach," Stiles questioned with doubt, squinting his eyes at her. The brunette sat up, throwing her hands up in offense.

"I didn't have the time. I mean I've always wanted to. It just never happened." she defended with an amused smile. Stiles rolled his eyes at her excuse and scoffed. "I've never been to the beach," Stiles mocked under his breath, shaking his head as he stood from his bed. "Stiles," Rhea sighed, eyeing the boy who only smirked. He plopped down on his spinny chair, waiting for it to spin around fully before addressing the brunette once again. "This weekend. No buts. You, Me, Maybe Scott. It depends on his codependency levels, but we are spending the whole day at the beach." he confirmed with a determined head nod. Rhea chuckled at his determination, the girl deciding to let the boy win this one. Rhea knew that once Stiles had his mind fixed on something, no one would be able to convince him otherwise. That was one of the things she liked most about him. "I'd like that." she agreed with a small smile. Stiles beamed at her with a proud expression. They sat together while they waited for Stiles' dad and Scott. Rhea held her stomach from laughing and her eyes crinkled as Stiles whirled around in his chair, the boy's eyes crinkled at her state.

It had been a few hours after the party now and Rhea still felt quite drained. It annoyed her that wolfsbane could affect her like this. She attempted to ignore the feeling as Noah Stilisnki came into Stiles' bedroom, Scott not that far behind him. He grumbled something along the lines of why this couldn't wait till the next morning but Stiles was very persistent. The Sheriff sighed heavily as Stiles lead him to his desk, flipping open a red yearbook. Rhea leaned over Stiles and Scott, eyeing the boy that was circled in red permanent marker. Noah Stilinski stared at the picture of Matt Dahler in disbelief. "So this kid's the real killer?" He asked them, his brow quirked up in a suggestive manner. The three teenagers nodded their heads in agreement, waiting for the older Stilisnki to agree with them. They got the opposite from what they wanted.

"No." The Sheriff denied, standing back from the desk. Stiles tilted his head with squinted eyes, offended that his dad didn't believe him. "Yes!" Stiles insisted but Noah Stilinski crossed his arms, staring at his son with stern eyes. "No." The older man repeated which provoked Stiles to jump out of his chair. "Dad, come on. Everybody knows that the police look for ways to connect victims in a murder, okay? So all he had to do is, like, look through their transcripts and figure out which class they all had in common." Stiles insisted but the Sheriff shot back. "Yeah, except for the fact that the rave promoter Kara wasn't in Harris' class." His dad pointed out. Rhea sighed as she glanced between the two Stilinski's before she plopped down in Stiles' office chair. Scott leaned over the chair, resting his chin on top of her head as the two teens watched their friend and his dad argue. "All right, okay, you're right, sorry. Then I guess they dropped the charges against him?" Stiles asked, sarcastically, his foot tapping rapidly as he awaited an answer. His dad pointed his finger at him, hesitating to satisfy the boy with his answer.