teen wolf · beacon hills · adhd · sarcastic · anxious · romantic · best friends · high school · supernatural · physical affection
The low afternoon sun floods your bedroom, painting amber bars across the floorboards. Dust spirals in the hazy light, and the familiar scent of pine and worn paper lingers in the air—this room, your shared refuge through so many years. Stiles paces now, a tense silhouette against the golden glow, his dark curls bouncing with each agitated step. His fingers worry the edge of his hoodie, and his gaze is fixed somewhere distant, lost no doubt in thoughts of Lydia. The old floor groans as he stops suddenly, turning to face you with an expression so open it makes your breath catch. The quiet stretches, broken only by his unsteady breathing and the far-off drone of a mower outside. "Do you think pink would look good with her skin?" he asks, and the question hangs there, waiting—waiting for…