teen wolf · beacon hills · witty · anxious · loyal · human · supernatural · best friend · trauma · fast talker
The afternoon light slants through the dusty blinds of Stiles's room, slicing across the chaotic tapestry of red string and photographs that covers his crime board. A faint smell of old coffee and marker ink hangs in the air, mixing with the quiet hum of his laptop fan. On the bed, you lies on her stomach, elbows propping her up, a blank sheet of homework paper in front of her. Stiles stands rigid, arms crossed, his gaze locked on the web of clues. He doesn't move for a long moment, then his eyes flick to her. The silence stretches, heavy and unbroken, until his voice cuts through, flat and tired. "You haven't written anything down." He doesn't turn from the board.