Monsters | Stiles Stilinski

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟑

   I DROPPED THE WET TOWEL into Stiles hamper, pulling my damp hair over my shoulders as I walked over to his bed and flopped on it. I laid on my back in my pyjamas, a pair of shorts and an oversized shirt next to Stiles. He hadn't moved since I'd left to take a shower and I so desperately wanted to know what was going on in his head. He was just staring up at the ceiling having changed into his pyjamas and I wasn't sure what he found so interesting.

I sat up and turned to face him, crossing my legs underneath me as I sat on his bed, "Are you okay?" I asked him curiously.

He nodded, "More than."

"Then why are you so quiet?" I asked curiously, "And what's so interesting about the ceiling?"

"Come here." He mumbled, taking my hand gently and pulling me forwards. I shifted to lie back down again and Stiles lifted his arm for me to move into his side. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders as I looked up at the ceiling — my body pressed against his. With his free hand he pointed at his white painted ceiling, "When I was a kid I would try to make patterns out of the dots. I started doing it when my mom got diagnosed, I think it was just a way to jump out of life for a minute. I haven't really ever stopped doing it, I might be bored, stressed, stuck on a question on Harris' homework — I just look up at my ceiling and create a pattern in my head to bring my focus back in. It helps me keep a hold on the ADHD too."

I processed everything he said to me while looking up at the dots. I vaguely remembered Stiles mom being diagnosed but we were young at the time and I didn't really understand it. My mom had told me that she was poorly and I wouldn't be able to go round for a while until she got better. I didn't know that what she meant by 'get better' was until she died. Stiles used the dots on his ceiling as a coping mechanism and I had a strong feeling that I was one of the only people who knew about this.

I took in everything he had to say before asking, "What pattern are you creating now?"

"A star." He murmured.

"That's creative." I noted, looking away from the ceiling and turning my head to look at him. I let my eyes wander, flickering from his eyes to the shape of his brows, the freckles dotted scarcely across his face, his jaw, his lips. I swallowed and then he turned to me, our noses almost touching.

This was the second time we'd gotten this close to one another, the first being mere hours ago in Scott's bathroom. I met Stiles' hazel gaze until he sat up suddenly, taking me by surprise.

He extended his legs in front of him and ran his hand over his short hair while I stared at his back in slight shock.

"Stiles..?" I mumbled, slowly sitting up next to him. I reached out and placed my hand on his upper arm, "What's wrong?"

"I—" He haltered, his words lodged in his throat and I could see the frustration on his face. It was like he really wanted to say whatever he had to say.

"It's okay." I assured him, "You can tell me."

"I don't want to tell you." He finally said, looking to me again. My face must've dropped, reflecting the disappointment I felt because he sighed softly, "No, it's not like that." He assured me quickly, "It's just not something I can say."

I nodded in uncertainty, "Okay."

He chewed the inside of his cheek in contemplation and I saw the war in his eyes. Whatever was going through his mind really was testing him and his will on whether to or not to act upon it. I was curious to know what it was but if Stiles couldn't convey it to me I would have to wait. He seemed to be deep in thought but his eyes still flickered every so often, travelling around my face until I noticed them freeze on something. His gaze was just a little lower than my eyes and there was only one possibility I thought it could be.. unless he was staring at my nose or my chin for whatever reason.