#nogitjune

[laheysdork]

enough for you - void stiles

summary: void has sworn to leave his malicious habits behind for you, but when his darkness got the best of him, he’s starting to doubt whether he’s enough for you

word count: 2.8k

warnings: minor descriptions of blood, violence and injury and also a whole lot of angst

a/n: not too proud of this but it’s my first void fic for @writingsbychlo’s void month! (a day late but better late than never right?) hope yall enjoy it 🤍 oh and as always please mind the grammatical errors

With bloodied hands, he gazes at the lifeless bodies scattered on the floor, a pool of blood starting to form under his feet. Still in a hazy trance, he inhales a sharp gasp, feeling the air fill his lungs as he regains his consciousness, pictures flashing his mind.

Moments ago, his wrists were tied firmly to the arms of a metal chair as he tried to break free, feeling the straining sting each time he pushed. Three hunters, probably Monroe’s men, brought him to an abandoned room located somewhere in the Beacon Hills tunnels earlier, having the orders to beat some information out of him since Monroe was pretty skeptical about the deal with Scott.

Yes, Void was no friend to Scott, not after the whole debacle a few years back. But you were. And somehow, the hunters knew just how important you are to him.

“The mighty, fearful nogitsune, look at him now, tied down to a chair like a poor dog,” one of the men tutted as he hovered around the room while the others stood around.

A punch was thrown to his cheeks, a red mark starting to appear from the harsh contact.

“Let’s make this easy, you tell me what Scott’s pack is up to, and maybe I’ll let you go alive.”

Glaring at the man in front of him, Void stayed quiet. His lack of response earned another round of fits on his throbbing face that was already starting to bruise.

“Where are they?” He pulled Void’s hair back, revealing his badly injured face to him, a smirk plastered on Void’s face.

“Is this all you got?” he snickered, spitting some blood out of his ripped lips.

Frustrated, he told the two men behind him to prep a machine as he clasps wires onto Void’s torso. He then turned away to grab a bucket of water, dumping it all over Void, drenching his clothes and body.

“You ask for it.” After grabbing a controller from one of his fellow hunters, he pressed the button as a sudden electric current jolted through Void’s body.

“Now tell me, what are they up to?” he asked which was followed by Void’s maniacal laugh.

“Suck my dick.” Amping up the voltage, he pressed the button again, Void groaning painfully.

The ‘interview’ went on for a while as Void tried to hold his rage back, the darkness seeping through. Oh, how much he wanted to let chaos loose again. He could easily let the power consume him once more, the electricity barely wounding him. But he held those urges back and let them torture him only for one reason- no, one person, you.

You’re his anchor, his tether to the light. You bring out the best in him, making a lover out of the once heartless sociopath.

But his effort was to no avail once those sickly bastards brought up your name.

“God, look at you! All beaten up. Is it just me or are you getting weaker? People talked highly of you, it’s kind of disappointing.” He then inched closer to him, both of them face to face with each other. “Oh, or maybe it’s that little human bitch that you’re hooking up with. I wonder how loud she’ll scream tonight when we shoot her little pack to death.”

“What?” Void spat, the man starting to process the information he just unintentionally gave out.

“You planned a fucking massacre?!” Void snapped as he furiously jerked his body in order to free himself. Panicked, the man backed off and pressed the button, electrocuting Void once again.

“I’m going to kill all of you!” Void yelled as he relentlessly tried to break free.

As more profanities and threats left Void’s lips, the man grew anxious, turning up the voltage to debilitate him as much as possible. But what he didn’t know was that the rope binding Void to the chair was slowly burning.

With one last yank, the ropes snapped off as Void immediately got on his feet. The man who was previously taunting Void backed away as the other two men with guns shielded him.

Before they could shoot, Void advanced to one of them, knocked his head, and grab ahold of his gun. He then shot his colleague with the gun before turning to him, firing another load to make sure he’s dead.

Two men down, one more to go.

The unarmed man took out a pocket knife, aimlessly swinging it in the air, trying to defend himself. Waiting for the right timing, Void held his hand out, forcefully grabbing the man’s arm. Squeezing it tightly, he twisted the man’s arm until the knife clangs onto the floor.

Claiming the abandoned knife, Void wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, shoving him to the wall.

“You think you can kill the nogitsune?” With gritted teeth, he stabbed the man in the stomach, a red patch slowly spreads on his shirt, and twist the blade around, an agonizing wail left the man’s lips.

“Bad idea,” he growled as he pulled the knife out and let it slip out of his grip, the man plopping down to the cold concrete, slowly passing out.

And here he is now, standing frozen in front of the aftermath. As the adrenaline starts to fade out, a tangle of unresolved emotions floods him.

Surprisingly, the emotion he’s able to first figure out is guilt. He has vowed not to kill again, not to let his devious self take over again, and he broke that vow, one that he made just for you.

Oh God, Y/N. He recalls what the man previously said before he was slaughtered in cold-blooded. Without thinking twice, Void rushes over to Scott’s house where Y/N said she would meet the pack after they have executed their plan to distract the hunters.

Bursting the door open, Void is met with your shocked face, the pack also having similar looks on their face. You are unsure whether you are more surprised by his unexpected arrival or by the blood splatters all over his body.

“Void, what are you-“

“You all need to leave, now! They’re going to attack,” Void demands frantically.

“What do you mean-“

“Everybody get down!” Lydia screams.

Before anyone can process anything, red lasers are pointed into the house, sounds of gunshots filling the air as everyone immediately duck down.

Instinctively, Void hovers over you, covering you from the flying bullets and the shattering glasses. He embraces you so tightly in his arms, protecting you from the danger that is currently occurring.

As the shots subside, his wrapped arms loosen around you. But instead of being met with your terrified but completely safe figure, he is met with more blood on his hands as your eyes flutter shut, slipping out of your consciousness.

────── ˋ*✧₊∘

With trembling arms and bouncy feet, Void sits in the waiting room of the hospital along with Scott and Malia. He is on edge, probably close to losing his sanity. The thought of losing the only person he has ever loved is killing him.

“Y/N and Mason are out of surgery. Thankfully the bullets missed all the vital organs so they will be okay. Melissa, Lydia, and Argent are still inside. It might take a bit longer since their wounds are more severe,” Sheriff Stilinski explains as Void immediately searches for your room.

Swinging the door open, he sees you laying on the bed in the tedious white hospital gown, tucked in a warm quilt perfectly like you’re simply asleep. Moving closer, the sound of beeping machines and your soft wheezes slowly grow more audible. Dragging a chair to the side of your bed, he gently sits down, not making any noises that could wake you up.

He places his palms on top of yours as he scans through the details of your peacefully sleeping face. The moles scattered along your face, the little bumps on your skin, the few acne scars on your cheeks, he finds those flaws you usually pointed out to him to be beautiful. He has always thought that you are perfect, even since the day he fell in love with you.

“Are we seriously trusting him?” Stiles grunted unbelievably as he pointed over to his doppelgänger.

“We need all the help we can get, Stiles.” Scott tried to convince his best friend as the rest of the pack stood quietly, not wanting to take sides.

“Am I the only sane person here? He killed Allison, Scott! How are we going to trust him?”

Void raised his hands halfway, in a classroom manner. “Technically, the oni killed her-“

“Shut up, Void. The OG Stiles is talking,” Stiles snarked which earned a few muffled giggles from several members of the pack, yourself included.

“I don’t trust him too, Stiles. But the beast is out there and we have to catch him.” Scott gave Stiles one of his pitiful puppy eyes as Stiles rolled his eyes and grumbled in defeat.

“Fine. But watch it, Void,” Stiles turned to him, getting closer. “Cause I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” He stuck up two of his fingers and pointed them from his eyes to Void’s, basically implying that he will be skeptically observing him, before walking past Void, bumping his shoulders on the way.

As the tension cools down, the pack was back to discussing a way to get through to Mason. Over the slightly messy animal clinic, due to the previous dread doctors encounter, Void was sat on the corner, not wanting to be too involved in the discussion, knowing he would only cause more dispute.

“Here.” You approached him and hand him a bag of chocolate chip cookies that you didn’t get to eat earlier. “Eat up, you look like you’re dying.”

“Yeah well, that’s what you get for going on a strife and pain fast for a long time,” Void scoffed as he accepted your act of kindness, mumbling a small ‘thank you'.

“Well, I’m glad you no longer went down that road.” You awkwardly straightened the wrinkled materials of your jeans and slumped beside Void.

“Why are you talking to me? I mean I killed your friend, shouldn’t you be mad at me like Stiles?” The tone of his voice was sincere, no judgment or skepticism, just genuinely clueless.

“What you did was inexcusable but I believe everyone deserves a second chance, even you.” You turned to look at his whiskey eyes, identical to your best friend’s but with a hint of darkness and sorrow.

“And I suppose Allison would have wanted me to not live with so much hatred in my heart. She would’ve wanted me to forgive you.” You shrugged as you snitched the untouched bag of cookies from his hands and open the packaging, trying to shift the mood.

“On second thought, I’ll have one.” You grabbed one cookie in your hand and took a big bite.

“Now, you can have the rest,” you mumbled while still chewing the cookies as you gave him back the now opened bag of cookies.

He watched you slowly finish your cookie, not really eating one himself. He was too occupied with your beauty, even though crumbs were all over your face from all of the munchings. But most importantly, he was in awe of your kind heart. Never in his thousand years of life had Void felt this much warmth. And never did he expect the cause of it to be you, an ordinary girl who simply choose to see the goodness in this wicked and vile world.

From that moment forward, Void made a vow to himself. He promised to leave his malicious habits behind and be a better person, for you.

But that promise was broken. He did this to you.

Even after killing all those men, he still wasn’t quick enough to save you.

Maybe it’s karma. Maybe, the universe is trying to punish him for not living up to his words, and you’re the one paying for his sins.

He is no good for you. You’re like an angel, and he is the devil, corrupting you. Whenever he is around, chaos and pain will always follow and he doesn’t want you to be caught in the crossfires of his wars, not anymore.

His fingers are now intertwined with yours as warm tears slowly flow down his cheeks.

Bringing your entwined hand up to his face, he pressed his lips on the back of your palm and rest it back on the bed.

Tucking stray hairs away from your face, he then leans in to place another chaste kiss on your forehead before standing up.

“I’m going to make them pay,” he mutters sternly before heading out of your room.

Just as he reached the door handle, he glances at you one last time, his lips purse up to a melancholic smile.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispers as he finally goes through the door.

────── ˋ*✧₊∘

Hearing pumps and buzzes, you slowly get a hold of your senses, starting to wake up. Inhaling sharply, a pungent smell of chemicals immediately clouds your sense of smell as an excruciating sting strikes your left shoulder.

Mind still blurry, you try to recollect the incident earlier. Instantly, you flutter your eyes open, squinting at the sudden bright light entering your pupils. You carefully sit up, not to initiate further pain from the bullet wound, and try to take in your surroundings.

It is empty.

You’re about to ignore the throbbing ache, get on your feet, and search for the others, but was stopped by the sight of a bag of chocolate chip cookies wrapped with a tiny sky blue ribbon and a neatly folded letter on top of your bedside table.

Beaming to yourself, you grab your favorite treats first, tearing the wrappers before shoving one up your mouth, feeling overly hungry from the long surgery.

Placing the rest back on the bedside table and dusting some crumbs off your hands, you switch to the piece of paper with your name on it, written by handwriting you’re too familiar with. You gently lift the top fold, revealing the written message inside the page left by your boyfriend.

Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter would reach you once you wake up and that Malia didn’t throw it away just to tick me off, but you’re probably wondering why I’m not there in the hospital with you by now.

Well, I did something, Y/N. Something I promised not to do. I let the darkness take over me and I don’t think I can hold it back anymore.

I’m a monster, Y/N. No matter how much I try, that’s just who I am, dangerous and poisonous, and I don’t want you to get hurt more because of me.

So now, I’ll be away, trying to catch the son of a bitch who did this to you, and knowing you, you will continue to fight with your friends. But after we’re done, please don’t come find me.

Being with you has been the best decision I’ve ever made in my life and I was incredibly lucky to be able to know you and be loved by you, but I’m never going to be enough for you, Y/N.

You’re the most selfless, loving, and beautiful person I’ve ever met. Even when the whole world has given up on me, you have always believed in me. And because of that, you deserve someone better, someone who can keep you safe and happy, someone I can’t be.

And I’m so sorry that you won’t get a proper goodbye because I’m afraid that if I wait until you wake up, I might not have the strength to let you go.

So please, take care, love. Always be the ray of sunshine I know you are. Keep on touching people’s hearts, just like you touched mine.

Goodbye, darling.

Remember, I’ll always love you, forever.

Love, your devious boyfriend, Void.

A quiet sob leaves your lips, cheeks damp from the warm tears that unknowingly started to pour out midway through the letter.

If the sting you felt earlier from your wound was painful, well this one is surely a zillion times worse, your whole body aching and the worse part is that there’s nothing you can do to ease it.

It is as if all the air inside your lungs are sucked out from you, unable to breathe, occasionally gasping and choking on your own tears.

Crumpling the letter, you clutch your chest where the pain is almost unbearable. You curl up and let yourself weep and drown in misery for a while, not being able to cease the crying anyways.

As you slowly grow tired, eyes puffy and nose red, you lean back on the headboard.

The agony never stopped, but you no longer have the energy to cry anymore, all the life left in your body drained out.

What’s left in you is just a numb and empty feeling, your heart no longer whole, a part of it left along with him.

You stare soullessly into the void monotonous room, the only thing you can think about is how you’re going to continue to live without the love of your life.

Amongst the negative thoughts, a flickering hope fights to emerge within you, that maybe you can convince him to stay.

Wiping the drying tears away, you finally made up your mind. You are a fighter, you do not give up. So from now on, you’re hell-bent to make him come back to you, to make him believe that he is indeed enough for you.

[writingsbychlo]

sun in the shadows (05)

word count; 11,931

summary; after a surprise visit to see the man you can’t get out of your head, a deeper chat only makes the two of you closer.

notes; sorry it’s a couple of minutes late, y’all, but I hope you love it!

warnings; none, really! just some sad references but that’s about it!

Leaning across the counter with a second portion of pancakes for your friend, Lydia scooped out a generous helping of the best vanilla ice cream the two of you could find at the store, and slathering it with syrup to follow. Balancing your elbows on the kitchen counter, your redhead-friend rubbed at Allison’s back slowly, and the brunette was digging in.

Her hair was greasy and pulled back, with half of the strands falling out. The usually bright and bouncy curls that she wore had gone limp and become tangled waves, and some strays hairs were sticking to the syrup on her cheeks. Running a cloth under the tap, you wrung it free of loose drops, and turned to her. Wiping at her cheeks as she chewed, you cleared away the dry tears that had pools in the dimples, feeling her chew aggressively at her meal as you cleaned her up.

“You get much sleep last night, Ally?”

“No. Spent the night staring at that stupid spot on Facebook that says ‘single’.” She scoffed through her food, a few crumbs spraying free, and you sighed. Putting the cloth down, you moved around the counter, hugging her from the side, and brushing a hand along her hair soothingly. “My eyes hurt from the screen. Can I have more pancakes?”

“You have anymore pancakes, you’re gonna’ explode.” You giggled, and she groaned, her head dropping to her hands as she rubbed the heels of her hands into them. Allison had always been excellent at hiding her feelings, she was a master at it, really, and it wasn’t often that she let you and Lydia in on her problems until they’d become overwhelming. You’d known her for years, and her poker face still bested you both, until every wall cracked and the glass shattered. “How about a shower or something, instead?”

“I don’t feel like a shower.”

“A bath, then? I’ll run it real nice, with bubbles, and put some salts in it. Make it smell real good. Afterwards, we can do some skincare, and I’ll curl your hair. Make you feel beautiful and strong again, and make him see what he’s missing.” Lydia twirled a limp piece of deep brown hair that seemed a little duller than usual around a single thin finger.

“Yeah. Okay.” She sighed, pausing a little longer, and pushing a syrupy plate away from herself, groaning again when she looked at it. Running her finger through the melted ice cream and sticky syrup, she ducked the pad clean, letting Lydia guide her away, but not without glancing back over her shoulder to you. She was just as shocked as you were, Allison was taking her break-up hard, and it had come out of nowhere.

Your phone chimed in your back pocket, it had been going off for hours since you’d woken up, but a chance to check it hadn't arisen since Allison had scraped herself out of her bedroom at just after midday. The screen lit up with Noah’s name across the front, a few other texts, ones that didn’t actually require your response but just updating you on the progress of your car. It had been towed, and his tutor had looked over it, signing it off as a part of his own graduation project and it had arrived at his garage, hooked up to one of the lifts and ready to be installed.

This was simply a text to let you know that he was going to start work on it, and that he was excited to do so.

Leaning back on the counter, you nibbled a little on your lower lip, trying to decide how to reply. While none of his messages demanded an answer, you wanted to be able to at least start a conversation with him because you hadn't been given a chance all day. Your thumb hovered over the screen, unsure of quite how to proceed because despite being able to work easily with everyone else, he still threw you off, and made you nervous.

With a few quick taps against the interactive glass, you had ent your response. Something simple, a joke about hoping the car wasn’t terminal once he opened it up, and after only a second, the ‘delivered’ notice underneath your text changed to a ‘read’ receipt. You waited, the few dots flashing under your message in a grey bubble for a little while.

“Who’re you smiling at?” Lydia teased, and you jumped, never having heard the shorter woman sneaking into the kitchen once again, and she was standing at the other side of the island, fingers tapping on the counter. “Don’t try and deny it, you’re all smiley and bright. It’s cute. Who’s on the other end?”

You sighed, placing the device face down, the text back from him not yet having come through, and you pushed yourself up to sit on the counter as she matched you, legs swinging as she waited opposite you. “Noah. He’s fixing my car for me.”

“That pile of rust can even be fixed? I thought it was hopeless.”

“So did I.” Your hands clasped between your knees, rubbing nervously as you hoped to hear the buzz and chime of your phone on the counter with the incoming text that was leaving you hanging, but the gap only grew. “But, he says he can check it out. He’s gonna’ add it onto his graduate project, so he can fix it through the college.”

“Sounds.. sweet.” Her eyes narrowed, a calculating look directed toward you and you squirmed a little under her gaze. “So, what is this, exactly?”

“What is what?” A single, perfectly manicured brow rose at your denial, and your eyes rolled involuntarily at yourself, watching her lean back onto her hands and cross one leg over the other, a little scary in her stance as her stare remained. “Okay, fine. I don’t know what it is. I don’t even really know if he likes me at all. I don’t know how I really feel about him, and whether the fact that he’s opening up to me is just making me feel special. I’m focusing on my study, that has to come first.”

“You’re being smart. Smart with your heart. I like that.”

“Well, I don’t want to end up like Ally. She’s hurting so much, I don’t think I’d be able to handle it as well as her, and she’s not handling it all that well.” There was a giggle shared between you both, and at the mention of your other roommate, your eyes flickered around. There was silence filling the apartment, not the subtle splashing and crying that you’d expected. “Where is she? You drew that bath quickly.”

“I didn’t even get a chance. I left her sitting on the edge of her bed, and when I came back to ask her which salts she wanted, she’d pulled the curtains and fallen asleep. She needs it.” Your heart ached for her, and you only hoped she’d be able to recover from her heartbreak soon, because watching a woman so powerful, someone you adored and admired so much, crumble as she had, was devastating. Your eyes flicked down to your phone, the silence bothering you now, and as you turned it over and the home screen flashed up, there were no notifications. “No text?”

“No.”

“Well, y’know, he’s working on your car, right? He’s probably got greasy fingers, doesn’t want to touch his phone, or whatever.” She shrugged, and you knew she was just trying to make you feel better, but you allowed it to happen. It was plausible, it made sense, and at the end of the day, you hadn't done anything wrong, so he couldn’t be mad at you. “I think you should go over there.”

“To the garage?”

“Yeah. I mean, you can’t help with the car, you can barely keep it running when it’s road-worthy, but you could keep him cheery.” There was a joke hiding behind her eyes, the mood she was referring to being the grumpiness he usually held having melted away a little, and you hoped you were at least partially responsible for that.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. He doesn’t take well to surprise company.”

“Yeah, in crowds. Take a sandwich or something, like a peace offering.” She hopped down, heels clicking on the floor as she did, and she moved around to the fridge. Opening it up and peering inside, tutting to herself. “Okay. We don’t have sandwich things. We barely have anything, actually. We need to go shopping, but I still think you should go.”

“I think I’m just gonna’ g-”

Her hand slammed down on the counter, a loud clink from the promise ring on her index finger, and you jumped. “Go get dressed, look pretty, and if you’re speedy, I’ll pack a chocolate bar in your bag.”

“Uh, excuse me, mom. I don’t even have the address to the garage.”

“I’ll text Stiles while you’re getting dressed.” She countered, and you slid down from where you were stood to stand opposite her, tucking your phone into the pocket of your pyjama pants.

“I don’t have a car to get there.”

“I’ll call a cab.” Her arms crossed over her chest, clearly not taking no for an answer, and you huffed an exhale through your nose.

“Why are you pushing this so hard?” The question was hanging in their air, the sudden enthusiasm she showed towards whatever was going on was a little overwhelming, and her defensive stance sagged a little.

“Because I think you’re good for him, and I think he’s good for you too. Leigh said she saw you at the restaurant a few days ago, with a guy who made you smile in a way that can’t be faked.” Her arms fell to hang by her sides, and she took a fraction of a step closer to you. “I’ll be damned if years from now he’s just a ‘what if’ while you cry on my shoulder the night before your wedding. Maybe it works out, maybe it doesn’t maybe it never takes off, but at least he’ll never be a ‘what if’ that haunts you. I don’t want another broken-hearted best friend.”

“Lyds..”

“Don’t do that. I’m not going mushy. I’m just looking out for you.” She pointed a red-painted nail at you, a smile curling on matching coloured lips. “So, go put on the yellow floral sundress that makes your tits look good, and I’ll book you a cab. Then, you’ll always know that you gave it a go.”

“Fine.” Her face split in a grin at your confirmation, white teeth shining to you as she clapped excitedly, producing her phone from the back pocket of her jeans, waving her other hand at you as she shooed you into your room. “I only need a couple of minutes.”

“Take your time. Look cute.” She gave you a wink as you walked away, trying to avoid the way you felt about seeing him to focus on the care your best friend gave to you. Closing the door, the room felt unusually silent as you looked around. Your rooms as tidy, you’d spent the night cleaning as a way to keep yourself away while consoling Allison, who’d lay on your bed staring at the ceiling into the early hours, before retiring to her bed.

As instructed, you plucked the yellow sundress she spoke of so fondly from the closet, and placed it down onto the bed, smoothing it out. The summer was coming in but the temperatures were still a little chilly, meaning a jacket was necessary, but Lydia wouldn't be so approving. When she set her mind on an outfit, there was usually a purpose behind it, and today’s purpose was to make you feel flirty.

This dress had always held confidence for you before now, it had been a first date dress, and a party dress, and a picnic dress, but right now it was working for you as simply a friendly-hangout dress. It was testing the waters, to get a rise out of him. A reaction to see whether you could make his eyes do that flickering scan with their eyes that boys did that made girls get butterflies, or whether he simply wouldn't care.

You felt comfortable in it, hands brushing away creases over the front of your body as denim creased from the jacket on your arms, socks sliding against the floor as you went. The door clicked a little behind you, a freshly applied set of products on your phase still having that momentary adjustment period that made your nose twitch, trying to resist the urge to touch it. Lydia was texting at the counter, your bag out beside her, still open as she’s packed it, and a pair of boots on the floor.

Spinning around a bar stool at the sound of your entry, her eyes moved along you, head tipping to the side, nodding slowly to herself in a way you couldn't analyse. Pulling on the shoes she had laid out, you dd a twirl for her, skirt flaring a little as you did. “Glad to see you took my advice.”

“Well, it would have taken me hours had I not already been styled.”

“That’s true.” She fastened the catch on your purse, sliding it towards you, the chain rattling as it moved and sliding from the table, ready to be caught by your awaiting hand. Opening it back up to put your phone inside, you rooted past the keys, lipgloss and wallet to find your chocolate, frowning at the candy you pulled out.

“I thought I was getting a chocolate bar.”

“You were, but we only had one left and I ate it while booking your cab.” You held up the lollipop, staring at it for a second, before putting it back inside. “Besides, it’s a candy for the cab, so you don’t have to talk to the cabbie. I know how you hate that.”

“I don’t hate it, it’s just always so awkward. The last cabbie I had told me about his dead cat. Why is cab conversation always so weird?” She chuckled, seemingly just as confused by it. Her phone chimed, and she picked it up, reading the notification for a split second, before turning it to you, and tapping her acrylic against the screen.

“Your cab is here.”

“I feel kinda’ nauseous.” You rubbed at your stomach, trying to soothe your nerves, and she came to stand before you. Her hands cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look her in the eyes as your face was a little squished in her hold. “I don’t even feel like this before dates.

“Get over it. Worst case, say you were passing by and wanted to say ‘hi’.” Hands dropped to your shoulder and she rounded to stand behind you, short stance holding a lot of power as she pushed you toward the door. “Now, get your cute little ass out to your cab, and go have some fun.”

“You’ll be okay with Ally on your own?” You paused in the doorway, hand on the frame once she’d opened it, half in the hall and half in the doorway, staring at her and searching for an excuse to stay, without pushing yourself from your comfort zone.

“She’s asleep, and then she’ll just want more food and to watch movies while crying. I got this.” Her hand waved, shaking her head, and pushing you back out further into the corridor. With a final glance, she closed the door, locking it from the inside to make a point, and your jaw dropped. She was watching you through the glass in the door, you knew it, and so you shook your head at her, before walking away.

As promised, there was a cab waiting for you outside, pulled up to the curb-side and you stepped inside, confirming your order with him, and he set off. Unfortunately for you, you’d never actually been to this side of campus, it was nowhere near where your psychology studies took place, and the drive was at least ten minutes. You’d never dared to venture much further than that of the science labs to pick up Lydia after a class.

The computer rooms were unfamiliar to you, you didn’t have a lot of friends who studied much over there, just a few acquaintances who took film and media, and so once you’d passed all of the production buildings, you were approaching that of mechanics and engineering. A large row of garages was laid out, and while the smell of this cab wasn’t as bad as the last, there was a smell of petrol coming in through the open windows that you’d have to get used to.

Metal saws going that sounded like nails on a chalkboard as you passed them by, at least forty individual garages, each with a student name above them, the courtyard out front was lined with cobblestones and a couple of benches. Your cab pulled up at the front of the small maze, wide passages ways for getting vehicles in and out of in several rows.

There was water by your feet as you stepped out, running from garage number six as a car inside was hosed down, and it looked as though it had been entirely taken apart. It was caked in dirt and oil, so much so that you could barely see the components inside, and a little voice in your head prompted you to think that at least your car wasn’t that bad. Of the garages that had their doors open and students working inside, almost all of those heads snapped up in a mechanics concern when the cab you were in let out a groan and a screech against the stone as it pulled away.

You couldn't see Noah, his garage wasn’t one of those that faced straight out into the main courtyard, and yet with the clouds overhead and rain threatening to break, you were positive that there couldn’t be that many to look through. The student who’d been hosing down the engine parts stopped, the sound of the jetwash coming to a close and you hadn't realised how loud it was until suddenly there was a silence surrounding it, and you let out a shaky breath.

With only a few steps, you were making your way over, knocking gently on the metal side of the closing door, and your knuckles rang out loudly at the contact. His head snapped up, thick red hair slicked back but strands were beginning to fall into his face, and he stood up from a crouch, brushing his hands off on his pants.

“Hey, uh, can I help you with something? You lost?”

“No, not lost.” You frowned, shuffling your hand to search for your bag strap, and holding on, fingers scratching at the denim with your growing anxiety.

“You look lost. Shouldn’t wear dresses here, sparks might burn your skin, you ever been to a garage before, o-”

“I’m looking for someone.” You cut off, a tight smile on your lips and his brows rose, his lips pursing at having been cut off, and a stagnant silence formed. “Noah, you know which garage number he is?”

“Who?”

Your brows furrowed, and his hands tucked into the pockets of his overalls as though it was nothing. Your hand come up, a little higher than your head in a signal. “About this tall, brown hair, brown eyes. Likes to wear dark colours and leather jackets. Frowns a lot. Any of this ringing a bell?”

“You talking about Stiles’ brother? He’s in lot ‘32. At the back.”

“His name is Noah.” You mumbled, following it with a louder ‘thank you’ for the advice, and beginning to follow the numbers above each heading. Not all of the doors were open, most were pulled closed signalling that nobody was inside, but on a few, the shutters had been pulled up. It was fascinating to see what was inside of a car, or a bike, or even the beaten up food-truck that was being renovated in lot ‘18. The walk was longer than you were expecting, each lot that wasn’t facing the courtyard had a parking space beside it for the student’s own vehicles if they needed it, doubling the space up, and your boots were scuffling against cobblestones for almost ten minutes before you found the one you were looking for.

As you rounded the corner, the door to lot ‘32 pulled up and open, and it was a little messy. Stiles’ compulsive cleaning clearly hadn't reached this space, it was Noah’s only. Various tools were scattered around, on both the floor and the counters. His jacket was slung onto a coat hook, almost falling off, and his phone and keys were on the table closest to you. Several textbooks were stacked on shelves too, with greasy fingerprints from previous usage on them.

You knocked gently on the metal, your knuckles aching a little at the contact once again, and you lifted your hand, rubbing carefully at the skin there. He was underneath your car, the hood pulled up, only his legs sticking out and there was already dirt forming on the edge of the denim. Rolling out on the board from underneath, he blinked a little at the light adjustment, staring at you blankly until his vision cleared, and then his brows were furrowing.

“Hey.” He slid out a little further, turning off the torch on his head and taking it off, a strip of pale skin that hadn't gotten as dirty as the rest of his skin, leaving a blank space that reminded you of tan-lines, and you stepped a little further in. “This is pretty much the last place I’d expect to see you.”

Your hands came together in front of you, fingers flicking around the garage and fingers playing as you swerved away from his questioning stare. “Yeah, you’re not the only one. First person I met had pretty much the same reaction, told me I don’t belong here, ‘specially not in this dress, apparently.”

You looked back to him, his eyes sweeping along you slowly, and he swallowed down, the apple bobbing in his throat before flickering back up to you. “You look great. Ignore them. Everyone here is a bit of a prick. Not to sound like one of them, but what are you doing here?”

His voice was a little flatter than usual, there was less emotion in his voice, and while he hadn't been all that chatty at all, he was less talkative today than you’d been getting used to. “I just wanted to hang out, see you ‘in action’, since you get to see me doing psychology stuff all the time.” His lips barely moved at your joke, a brief flicker at the edge, even when you laughed softly to yourself, and he nodded.

He stood up, brushing off greasy hands on his pants and leaving stains on the denim, but if you looked close enough, you could see various shades of differently faded stains, and you figured this must be one of several working outfits. “Well, good thing you’re here. I have some forms from my tutor for you. You just have to sign off, some disclaimers about a student, not a professional mechanic, working on your car, all that.”

“Yeah,  of course.”

He wandered away, disappearing into the back of the garage, and when he came back, there was a small collection of papers in one hand. Three copies, each with a pin on the top to hold them and a pen in the other hand. He handed both over, his hands in his pockets and rocking on the balls of his feet as you glanced over them. “I put a little cross where you need to sign on them all, to make it easier for you. There’s a copy for you, for my tutor, and one I can keep here in the garage. If you don’t want to sign them all, just sign one and I’ll photocopy it, or something.”

“I don’t mind signing them all, it’s fine.”

He only nodded, standing there for a second, and you pulled out the metal stool from underneath the counter, sitting down on it and beginning to work through the papers to look for signatures and dates to place. After the first few pages, he stopped watching, no longer leaning over your shoulder, and moving away from you. You hadn't realised that he had left until the wheels of his board were scraping on the floor again, and the muffled clanging of the work on the underside of your car had resumed.

Unlike what you’d learned about him, there was no music playing, and you’d found both from his habits, and from Stiles, that Noah basically had a playlist for everything. With how much work he must do and how much time he must spend here, you found it unlikely that he wouldn’t have a playlist for the garage. You figured something with heavy rock, loud metal music, rap and deep bass. It suited the atmosphere.

Flicking through some more papers, you put your name in print, and the date, and your signature, but the tension between you both was too much. Only the scratch of the pen drying en on the paper and the clinking of tools being swapped out occasionally was filling the silence, and the air around you was becoming thicker and harder to breathe with every inhale you took.

“You mind if I play some music?”

“If you want to.” You’d spied the abandoned speaker sitting on the counter, tucked away with a portable charger following it, and its wire wrapped around. With only a few steps to your bag, you retrieved your phone, taking the sweet treat that Lydia had slipped inside too, and undoing the wrapper. As a bubblegum flavour washed over your tastebuds, telling you blue would be staining your tongue by the time you were finished, you plugged in your phone.

“Any preference?”

“Whatever you want is fine.” He mumbled, and you sighed, wishing he would at least let you in a little bit, but he wasn’t making it any easier for you to break the tension. Instead, you were left to scroll through the music selections that you had download to your phone, in silence. Following the vibe that he gave off, you put on some AC/DC, the first thing that came to mind, and the minuscule movements you made came to a halt, a chuckle following only a  second later. As short and dry as it was, you still congratulated yourself on getting a rise out of him at all.

“Your garage is giving me Iron Man vibes.”

“Noah Stark.” He muttered, empty of tone but a joke nonetheless, and you sat back down on the stool. His foot tapped lightly, but there was no rhythm to his movement as the rock filled the air at the vest volume the small speaker had, and he showed no signs of cheering up.

Eventually, you turned back to fill out the forms. The ink was getting thinner and paler as you went, and by the final few dotted lines to fill you were shaking it just to get any at all, but you managed to do so, and you gave a quiet cheer to yourself at having finished it. By now, you felt like you had the following lines all memorised for your confirmation and permissions. Folding them neatly into threes, they sat out on the desk, and you tucked one into your bag.  The other two, you left sitting on the desk, tidily pushed to the side. “I’ve finished the forms.”

He grunted, a sound that almost sounded like the word ‘great’, but it barely formed syllables, and you kicked your feet on the stool in time with the rhythm. This had been exactly what you were worried about. You had shown up out of the blue, and overwhelmed him, clearly, it wasn’t a good time, and you couldn't believe you let Lydia talk you into this. The lollipop in your hand was dwindling, and pulling it from between your lips, it was half the size it had been, the flavour fading slightly, but it was still enjoyable.

Everything felt like it was becoming duller now. You were anxious, and bored, and worried that you had overstepped, and if it wasn’t the feeling of twisting nausea like a rollercoaster ride, then you didn’t really feel anything right now. “I’m sorry for just showing up, Noah.”

“What?” His words were quiet from under the car, a groan following it, and he dropped the tool in his hand, swapping it for a smaller wrench, and you turned on the stool to look at him.

“I said that I’m sorry for just showing up here.” You could only see his legs, the bottom half of him sticking out from under the car, and he didn’t budge at your words. “This is, like, your alone time and whatever. I was gonna’ bring you something like a sandwich but I didn’t have sandwich fillings, but now I feel like I should have brought something, or maybe gone to the shops beforehand because then at least I’d have something to give you, a-”

“You’re doing that rambling thing again.” He cut you off, still not coming out from under the car, and your hands clenched together, your stomach churning.

“I know, I’m sorry. For the rambling, but also for just showing up here. I know you don’t like surprises, and that’s exactly what I did. I feel like I shouldn’t have come at all, because I’m clearly bothering you but you’re just not saying it because you’re being nice.” He slid out from underneath the car, head torch leaving his head once again, and he sat up on the board. Folding his legs to sit up more, he wrapped his arms around them, and sighed.

“You’re not bothering me.” He moved, wiping his forehead on his shirt to clear a slight build-up of sweat, and he looked back to you. “I just have a lot on my mind right now, I’m stressed. But, I’m not trying to make you feel bad. It’s nice to have company, actually. Nobody ever comes to the garage to see me, and if you’re the surprise, then I like it. This is nice. I’m sorry I’m making you feel this way. My head is just-” He waved a hand, and then scrunched it into a fist, the action being all the words that he could handle. “-weird. I don’t know. Not good thoughts.”

You hopped up from the chair, and he watched you move, swallowing down thickly again as you approached him. Sitting on the edge of the board and facing him, you copied his position, Sitting up on the edge of the board and your legs folded between his, your hands on the board in front of you to sit up. There was a frown on his face, his eyes flittering across your features again, and his frown deepened.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You gave him a smile, and he tried to return it, but his head was hanging shamefully. “You know, I’m a great listener.”

“You know when you said we could talk, without it being for the study, did you mean it?” There was a vulnerability in his eyes, like a bridge was being built, one that you’d never even broached before, and your breath hitched as his gaze remained locked on yours.

“Of course, I did. No recorder, nothing. Just me and you, talking. With AC/DC in the background.”

He laughed a little, the most honest and hearty sound you’d garnered from him yet today, and he shuffled a little closer. “Speaking of, do you mind if I change the music up?”

“You don’t like my choice?”

“I do, but I just don’t think classic rock is the choice for this conversation.” He stood, going over to your phone and picking up the device, bringing the speaker and the phone over to the two of you. While you waited, your tongue swirled around what remained of your lollipop, watching him take a seat back before you, and using your teeth to pull the rest of it off.

Placing the stick down on the ground, what was left of the hard candy crunched between your teeth. Putting your password into the device, you turned it back to him, adjusting the volume down to a low level. As he scrolled through music, you waited, rocking the board slightly with the two of you on it, and he fell into a pattern of matching you on it. The two of you pushed back and forth together, and after a few minutes of silence, you realised he was searching his own profile, and choosing between all of his own playlists.

The gentle notes of 70s country music came through the speaker, and he turned the volume down even lower, until it was just more of a soothing him in the background of you both, and he rubbed his hands together nervously in front of himself.

“You okay, Noah? Whatever it is, seems like it’s really eating at you.”

“It's just some news I got today from Stiles. It feels stupid the more I think about actually saying it to another person, but it’s really bothering me.” He sighed, dropping his head down and running his fingers through his hair in agitation, no care for the oil and grease staining his fingertips. Your forearms were resting on bent legs, and you reached your hands out to him. He looked at you for a second, gaze narrowing slightly on your open hands, before he gave in.

Slipping his hands into your own, his fingers squeezed tightly around the backs of your palms, searching for that comfort, and you curled yours back. “I’m not judging you, okay? I just wanna’ help.”

“I’m just really stressed lately. With it being last year, and all. It’s like, you’re born, and your life is planned out for you. It’s easy. You’re born, you go to pre-K, onto elementary, and then to middle school, high school, and you’re here in college. Your path is planned, it’s easy, you follow the yellow-brick road, or whatever. But, then, suddenly you come out at the end of college and it’s like wading out into the ocean and hitting the continental slope.” His exhale was shaky, and you squeezed his hands lightly, his fingers flexing backwards in response.

“I understand how you feel. I have all my hopes pinned on this final exam. I’m just a kid, studying other kids, trying to make a judgement on what I’ve learned, and this exam decides my future.” You sighed, and he smirked, nodding his head.

“Right? It’s fucking terrifying.”

“And that’s what’s hanging over your head?”

“No.” That frown was back, his hands tightening and loosening, the thoughts flying through his mind visible like a script you couldn't read, watching as he tried to decipher his thoughts and put them together. “It would be easy for me to just get a job at a garage, right? There are garages everywhere, and people’s cars always break down, so it wouldn’t be such a struggle.”

“You can always fix my car, when I inevitable break it.” He smiled, the rocking of the board that you both sat on coming to a stop, despite you trying to lighten the mood.

“My first customer. Promise you’ll be loyal?”

“Totally.”

“Cool.” He whispered, and just like that, the mood was slipping down again. “Stiles wants to travel. He’s been with Derek for years now, and they have their ups and downs but they have never even taken a break. They want to travel together, they’re making plans together. That makes sense, I get it and I’m happy for him, but it’s always been me and him making plans. I’m kinda’ throw by it. We’re hurtling towards the end of the year, six months to go and I’m going to be left alone on the lurch, while he makes plans, and this time, I really will be left behind.”

“Oh, Noah..”

“No, don’t pity me, okay?” He sniffled a little, but he was angry at himself, and it was clear that he hated how much he was bothered by it. “Don’t pity me because it’s stupid. I can’t have my twin right by my side forever like some kind of safety blanket. I have to be able to let him go, because he has clearly let go of his dependence on me years ago, but it just feels so sudden and rushed now.”

“Well, what about your dad? You could go and see him for a while?”

“That's even worse.” His voice trembled as he spoke, your confusion only growing. “I can’t go home until I have something to show for it. Stiles is going to go off and travel the world with his boyfriend. If I just go back to my little town and get a part-time job at the only garage in town, it’s like admitting defeat. It’s like admitting I’m the loser son to everyone who already knows it, but just said it behind my back.”

“You’re not a loser.”

“Yeah, I kinda’ am. Stiles blossomed during college, he had that college experience that makes kids wanna’ go to the same college when they’re older just to try and have even half the experience their parents did.” You grinned, his metaphor being something that made you spark with a little amusement. “I haven’t got anything to show for it.”

“You do, you’re just not as loud as Stiles, and as we’ve already covered, that's a good thing.”

“Yeah, like what?” He challenged, and you paused, feeling put on the spot, and your mind came up blank. “Exactly.”

“Give me a minute, I’m thinking!” You hummed, searching your brain, and there was a lot that you still didn’t know about him, making your task harder. “Okay, well, for starters, you’re helping me graduate. By taking part in my study, you’re changing my whole future. I think that's pretty awesome.”

“That doesn’t count. But, thanks, I guess.”

“Do you want to hear something that might help?” His brows raised, and you dared to shuffle a few inches closer across the board, your joint hands falling to sit on the board between you both as you straighten your legs out underneath his own. “Might make you feel less shitty if you know someone else has it worse?”

“That always does make me feel better. As long as it’s not you, because that wouldn't make me feel good. I don’t want you to be in bad shit.” He squeezed your hand, before letting go, dropping down to lean back on his hands for support, and your cheeks warmed a little.

“It's not me. It’s my friend, Allison.” He was curious, you could see it on his face, and as he became less caught up in his own problems, his mood was already lifting. “She got dumped last night, by the guy she drove three hours to see a couple of weeks ago.”

“That fucking sucks.”

“Yeah. It came out of nowhere, because Ally is one of those ‘see the best ‘til everything goes majorly wrong’ kind of thing.” He grimaced, the expression being exactly how you felt about it, and you could only nod. “He’s been building a friendship with this transfer girl called Kira, she came over and started taking zoology with him. She knows a lot about foxes or wolves, or something, and Scott liked that, apparently.”

“Did she have to drive back three hours on that heartbreak?”

“Oh, he didn’t break up with her then. He broke it off with her over Facetime.” He gagged falsely, making you giggle a little, because it was an accurate representation. “That's how I felt!”

“Even I wouldn't break up with someone like that, and I’m the least socially functioning person on the planet.”

“I don’t know, Stiles probably knows a few inmates who have slightly less social skills.” You pinched your fingers together, as close as you could, and he scoffed, knocking your hand out of the way. “You feel any better?”

“Yeah, a little, I guess. Thanks.” The silence formed between you both again, and he shifted, his legs folded against the concrete until he looked more like he was kneeling, the music playing slowly. Mostly guitar notes, ones that he was tapping his fingers to slowly as he matched the rhythm, and this silence was much more comfortable. You were relieved, knowing that it wasn’t something you had done, but there was a swirling discomfort.

You were relieved, your mood was lifted back up high, but there was something still weighing him down, and you hated to think that he was still dwelling on it. You could see that there was guilt for him too, guilt for feeling angry at his brother for leaving him and guilt at himself for wishing Stiles would stay. The two would be separated at some point in their lives, it was only natural that they would be, but Noah wasn’t ready for that, and Stiles was moving on without him.

Shuffling forwards and folding your legs up to sit cross-legged on the board, your arms came out. He looked at you for a second, studying you, before looking down at himself. “You don’t want to do that. I’m covered in dirt from the underside of your car.”

“I don’t care.” Your fingers wiggled, motioning him in, and his body sagged as he let go of his tension, shifting forwards on his knees to fall into your arms. His chin hooked over your shoulder, a sigh leaving him, and his arms wrapped back around you even more firmly. Squeezed tight, and you ran one hand along his back soothingly in a way he’d done before for you, while the other rubbed over his shoulder blades.

Reaching up a little further, your hand moved on the base of his neck, scratching lightly at the shorter hairs there, before slipping up. Rubbing your fingers through his hair, he let out a soft sound, slumping further into you, and the tips of his fingers were digging into your lower back as he held onto you. “That feels nice, actually.”

“Everyone likes having their hair petted when they feel down. Makes them feel looked after, cared for.”

“Stop being such a psychology major.” He snorted, letting you play with his hair and hold him close for a second longer, before pulling back. His fingers wrapped around your wrist delicately, pulling it down, and his thumb smoothed over your skin, leaving a little black stain there against your skin, the oil on his hands marking it. “I got oil on your jacket.”

He frowned again, and you looked down at it, a few patchy spots of greying transfer on the denim, and it wasn’t too much.

“If you use dish detergent, it should come out pretty easily.”

“I’ll give it a try.” You stood, smoothing your skirt down and offering your hands to him, pulling him to his feet. “You wanna’ tell me what’s wrong with my car, then?”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start. Did you do this to it, or did you buy it with some of these issues?”

A shrug was the only answer you could give, hands coming to rest on your hips. “It was pretty crappy when I bought it, not this bad, but not great. It was only a couple hundred bucks. I had to get the brake pads replaced when I got it, and the suspension sucked, and one of the windows was broken. But, it’s just been getting progressively worse.”

“Okay, well, when I’m done with it, it won't be like that. You’ll be driving safely. I have a rough idea of some parts or order to start with, but I think I’ll spray it down and take it apart a little to get started with.” He looked over at it, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, staring at the vehicle for a second. “Of course, if I can find a paint match, I can fix up some of the scratches, this car is really battered and bruised, and I’m pretty sure this model is from, like, 2005 but I haven’t searched it. I know that in the supplies and storage we’ve got some tyres I can put on it, your traction is basically gone, a-” He cut himself off, turning to look at you as you stared at it, you could feel his eyes on you, and you turned to meet him. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“For.. talking. A lot. About cars.” He was a little strained, and you nudged him with your arm, turning back to glance at it for a second.

“Don’t apologise, I was listening. I was just thinking about how huge of a favour I’m gonna’ owe you when this is done.” You smiled, twisting back to him and his eyes flickered over your face, seeming not to believe that you were really listening. “When I went to the garage, they quoted me three-hundred bucks just for the coil springs to be replaced, and you’re doing all this for me for free. I don’t think it should be for free. I owe you.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll figure something out.” He smirked, and you gasped, holding a hand over your heart in faux shock. “I do have one thing to show you, though!” He held his finger up, motioning for you to wait, and he moved away. Taking your car keys from where they’d been left hanging on the key-rack, he opened the front sea, sitting half into the driver’s seat, and pushing the key into the ignition.

After a few splutters and a couple of scraping turn-overs, the car started up. The engine didn’t sound so healthy, and it almost faulted out, but the car started up, and your hands flew up into the air with a cheer. Despite the struggle it had, it was at least working, and you were surprised he’d managed to achieve so much in just a few hours. “I can’t believe you got it to start up already!”

“Are you doubting my mad mechanic skills?” He killed the engine, pulling the key back out and hanging it on the rack, your keyrings and a photograph in a plastic slip dangling on them, and he slammed the door shut. “I’m probably going to call it a day, but I think it’s some pretty good progress for starting out.”

“It’s amazing progress!” He came back to standing by your side, reaching past you to pick up his jacket, and he reached inside. Pulling out a set of wipes, he took one free, wiping down his hands of grease as best he could. “Thanks for doing this for me.”

“Thanks for coming to visit me.” He finished cleaning his hands, tucking the wipes back into his pockets, the whole pack in one, and the dirty ones in the other, zipping and buttoning them up tightly. Pulling your phone from the speaker, he switched the gadget off and wrapped the wire back up, the silence forming between you both once again. Tucking it into your bag when he handed it over, he sealed up his phone into his pocket, and turned back to look at you.  “You want a ride?”

“Buy me dinner first, jeez.” You scoffed, turning away from him to walk towards the entrance of the garage, and back out onto the pathway. He was scowling as he followed you, but his cheeks were red, and he snatched up his keys and your spare signed papers as he went, giving you a second to grab your bag.

“I meant, do you want a ride home? On the bike.” His cheeks only got a little redder, and as he stretched up to reach the top of the garage, his shirt rode up a little bit, dark hairs flashed along the bottom of his stomach for only a second, before pulling down the door. It shuddered as it did, and you looked away, letting him return to his normal height and lock the door with the padlock still hanging through the gap, before turning back to him. “So?”

“Yeah, that’d be pretty fun.”

You followed him to the side of the building, his bike parked up on the concrete in his dedicated parking space, his helmet hanging by one of the traps on his handles, and he took it off. Placing it over his head and letting each side with the buckle swing free for a moment, he opened up the back, revealing the second helmet with the bright blue shine.

Handing it over to you, you made sure to smooth down your hair as best as possible, before placing the helmet over your head. It was cushioned, and squeezed in a way that wasn’t exactly uncomfortable but it was tight, and you were still getting used to the padding. His fingers were under your chin, the index finger knuckle digging slightly into your jaw as he tipped your head up. Staring to the sky, he did up the catch up and tapped the top, wobbling your head side to side with enough force to move your body, and you giggled a little at the action. “I think it’s on there!”

“Just checking!” He did his buckle up, smirking as you tried to steady yourself from your dizziness, and he swung his leg over the bike, popping the brace from the ground as it sprang back into place. With keys in the ignition, the bike roared into life, and you stood before him. “Any time today would be awesome.”

“Oh, cut it out.” You glared at him, swinging your leg across the bike, shifting a little on the seat once you were settled, and he zipped up the front of his jacket. Doing up a couple of the buttons along the denim, you made sure it was secure around your body, before your hands were slipping under his arms, and around his front. Leaning in closer, your front pressed to his back, you held on tightly. Feet lifted from the floor and tucked against the bike securely, you patted his front carefully in signal of being ready.

Taking the hint, he revved for a second, before the bike was spurring into life, and you couldn't help the jump you made as it did. It somehow seemed scarier to weave between the pathways of garages than it was on the roads, the thinner passages that he seemed to master perfectly. Once the two of you hit the roads, you could let a held breath go free, and you were enjoying the atmosphere again.

Seeing the university campus from the roads while on a motorbike was like seeing them for the first time, a flying journey of colour and buildings. As you went, your body seemed to tune into the ticks and twitches he made as you rode. His side would clench a little a split second before a turn, and you were beginning to lean into them with him instinctually instead of by prompt, and your fingers no longer dug into the muscles of his stomach with fear but your palms could lay flat.

Your bag was sliding around in the box behind you each time you came to a stop or a pause at a traffic light, you could hear it thump in the box, before the engine was revving again. When you finally pulled back into the parking lot of your building, he stopped the bike entirely, popping the stand back out with his toes before switching off the engine. Swinging your leg over the back and hopping a little once you were free, you came to stand back before him.

He stayed sitting on the leather, his head turning to look at you, and his upper body followed, hands coming up to undo the catch. As he lifted the helmet away, your hair got stuck in it, your head yanking to follow, and you stumbled with it, knee bumping against the edge of the bike.

“Wait, wait, wait, my hair!”

“I see that!” There was an air of panic to his voice, and he held the helmet up, your hair going slack where it was stuck, and you set to work untangling it. With all the wind that came and the breeze that had flown past, a free strand of your hair had gotten wrapped up in the catch, and you undid the knots that were forming delicately, trying not to pull them any tighter, until you were free to step back. Rubbing one hand at your scalp and one at your knee, a red patch that would form a purple bruise by the morning, but the pain was already fading. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Not the worst injuries I’ve ever lived through.” You teased, and he gave a gentle laugh, his eyes flicking down to the watch on his wrist, seeing the afternoon already fading into the evening. “What are you gonna’ do with your evening?”

“Uh, well, Stiles is going over to stay at Derek’s so they can talk about plans after graduating.” His voice was mocking over the words, and he looked disappointed in himself to follow but he couldn't help it, and you let a hand fall to his shoulder. Rubbing lightly he huffed, and looked back up to you. “I don’t know. Probably just going to sulk and try to forget about it. I normally like it when I have the place to myself for a bit, so, I’ll make the most of it.”

“You wanna’ have alone time?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of a loner. I’ve become pretty comfortable in my own company.” You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing, but his laughter was infectious as you tried to contain it, but your walls quickly crumbled.

“I’m serious, do you want to be alone?”

“What, you offering to keep me company?” He hummed, turning to place your helmet down on the seat behind himself.

“Yes, actually, I am.”

His face snapped back up, eyes a little wide as he stared at you. “You, uh, you’re serious? You want to hang out?”

“I think you’ve probably never seen a movie other than Star Wars, what with being related to Stiles and all, and I’m in the mood for Chinese food. I think that we should order a lot of food, and find some good comedies, or maybe make our house bigger on Minecraft, and not think about graduation for a while.” Arms crossing over your chest formed like armour, defensively in case you were rejected, watching in tentative and prolonged silence for Noah’s reply.

“Well, I think you’d better hop on, then.” He handed you your helmet back, and you held it between your hands.

“Well, there’s a really good Chinese place not far from here, and your place is only a ten-minute walk.” You rounded to the side of the bike, undoing the catch on the back-box, before swapping the helmet in your hands for the bag inside. Once it was sealed back up, Noah was already standing up, hands tucked into his pockets once he’d unzipped his jacket, and you laced your arm through his. “You sure you want company?”

“Normally it’d be a ‘no’, but I’ve been growing progressively fonder of your company.”

“Good. Because you’re going to love the egg grief rice at this place. It’s my guilty pleasure.”

“I hope it lives up to the hype, then.” His brows wiggled, slightly teasingly, and you pulled him along towards the steps at the edge of the parking lot. The skies were clouding over with a pastel array, blue being washed away as the night threatened to come in. Purple was forming overhead, pinks and oranges surrounding the sun as it disappeared behind tall buildings, no longer visible, and street lights were coming on. Dull and warm yellows from faded bulbs, flickering a little as you went, and the signs on the buildings were beginning to light up for nightlife.

There was a comfortable lull between you both, while you weren’t overly familiar with his side of campus, he wasn’t all that familiar with yours. He was trying to take it in and commit at least a fraction of it to memory, you could tell, in the way that his gaze was flicking over the streets, the buildings the people, constantly. His guard was up, every person you passed on the street who offered you both polite smiles and greetings as they went made him duck his head a little lower.

He paused, letting you do all of the greetings and petting the heads of dogs when dog-walkers passed by, your arm always finding a home linked through his again, and he let out a quiet breath of relief when you’d reached the restaurant. It wasn’t much of a dine-in place, a few small tables on the polished linoleum but it wasn’t the sort of place you’d want to stay. The lights were bright and the walls weren’t overly decorated, a few bonsai trees in pots and a stack of magazines next to the chairs in the waiting area, but their speciality was takeaway.

Heading up to the counter, a friendly face greeted you, the son of the owner who attended this school and often gave you discounts or slipped free extras into your order, more than happy to see you on a busy Friday night. You’d been fourth down in the queue to be packed, everybody wanting this food, and upon placing your order, you’d been left to sit.

There was shouting, and yelling, music coming from the background in a language that was too fast for you to even pick out the few words you’d learned over the years, and the sound of loud sizzling. The spicy mixture of smells never failed to make your stomach rumble, like a teaser to get your appetite going, or the trailers before a movie, getting you all worked up for the meal that was coming.

Thirty minutes later, with two takeout bags in hand, the two of you had been finishing the last of the walk to his apartment, Noah mumbling about how he’d never heard of this place, despite how close it was. It was a hidden gem that didn’t have a website, just a Facebook page and leaflets around the campus, keeping it a well-known secret for the lucky adventurers of town.

Balancing both bags in your arms upon reaching the top of the stairs, so that he could fish the keys from his pockets and hold the door open for you, the steam was beginning to soak through a little where the tops had been curled over, the stickers holding them shut to keep the heat locked in was becoming looser and beginning to peel themselves from the brown packaging.

Welcoming you inside, he held the door for you, scratching at the back of his neck and closing the door after you both. Hanging his keys up on the hook by the door, he flicked the lights on, the bulbs taking a second to process the electric sparking through them before light was filling the room. He looked around, hands rubbing in front of his body, staring out at the empty living room.

“Alright, well, make yourself comfortable, I guess.” It still seemed a little uncomfortable for Noah to invite anybody into his home, and you understood that. This was a safe place, this was where he could come after a long day and feel secure, and so introducing someone else to that little perimeter of safety was always going to be worrying, and you glanced over at the couches, noting the neat fold in the top of each one, presumably done by Stiles in a fit of anxious cleaning. “I’m going to go and clean up a little. Plates are in the cupboards.”

He was scratching at his skin again, patches of dried oil and grease on his skin leaving red marks in their wake as he scratched it away, and you weren’t all that surprised, the thought alone was making you feel itchy. “Take your time, I’ll be fine here.”

He nodded, hesitating for only a second longer, before moving away, and his bedroom door closed. Putting the two large bags down on the kitchen counters, you started up the sink, washing your hands under it, and using a good lathering of soap to strip the oil from your wrist that had been smeared there.

Drying them off on a towel, the sounds of water thundering down on the base of a bathtub was loud for you to hear, even through the thick wooden door. Hanging your jacket up on the racks and taking off your shoes, your toes wiggled against the hardwood floors, still feeling slightly out of place in a home you didn’t know all that well, yet. He was humming, to a song you vaguely recognised but the lyrics were escaping you, and you placed two large dinner plates down on the counter.

Grabbing two glasses, you took the bundle over to the coffee table, setting them down with coasters and laying them out, before retrieving the bags. Opening everything up slowly, and peeling back the double-wrapped paper and foil that was keeping it all warm, steam curling out into the air on the other sides of your fingers. Spicy and sweeter smells filled the air, and as you began to lay it all out as best you could, the door clicked open.

At the sound, the first place your head went to was the bathroom, but the door was still locked, the humming on the other side continued, and light from under the door was spilling out. Instead, there was scuffling to the directions of the front door, and your head whipped around.

“Jeez, Stiles, you gave me a heart attack.”

He shrieked, hand clutched over his chest as he looked up from his phone, eyes wide for a second, before his gaze fixed on you. “You gave me a heart attack!” He wandered over, eyes rapidly finding all of the food you had laid out, and picky fingers reached down to pick up a spring roll, taking a bite from the end. He cursed at the heat, hot fillings spilling out onto his tongue. He chewed despite it, puffing out hot air like a dragon and you cringed at the way he acted, wondering why he was the twin who’d somehow managed to snag a long-term relationship. “This is super romantic, and all, but you know I’m gay, right?”

“Shut up, this isn’t for you, so make the most of that spring roll because you’re not getting any more!” You slapped at the back of his hand when he reached for another, while holding the other between his teeth, and he flipped you off as he pulled back.

“Fine, fine. Where’s my brother, anyway?”

“He’s in the shower.”

Stiles swallowed the mouthful he had, his eyes flicking over the dinner plates, and the meal you had, before going to the bathroom door, and his jaw dropped. “Holy shit, are you and my brother doing it?”

“What? No.” You glanced back, noting how it all seemed when you took it all in, and your eyes went wide. “What! No! Stiles!”

“Noah.” Came a grumbled voice, and your cheeks warmed when you looked back towards the corridor. With a fresh set of clothes on, water soaking through in a few patches and he was rubbing a towel over his head.

“Stiles.” You insisted, and Noah’s head came up, catching sight of his brother, and a friendly smile graced his features. Dropping the towel he’d been using on his hair to the kitchen counter, the slightly-taller met his brother in the middle.

“Hey, Sti. What are you doing back?”

“Interrupting something, apparently,” Stiles smirked, and you rolled your eyes at him, meaning back in the couch cushions to hide your discomfort. “I came back to get my phone charger.”

“You drove all the way back here for a phone charger?” Stiles was already walking away, disappearing into his bedroom to get the cable, and you turned to Noah. He only shrugged, placing down the hoodie that he had slung over his other arm, leaving it on the back of the couch, before Stiles reappeared.

“Der has one of those Samsung Galaxy thingies. I have an iPhone. They ain’t compatible.” Stiles sighed, and you chuckled at him. Leaning over the edge of the couch, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, ruffling his brother’s wet hair, before heading back towards the door. Turning on his heel and walking backwards, he winked at the pair of you as Noah settled onto the couch beside you, both staring at the flannel-clad boy in the doorway. “Have fun on your date.”

Your mouth opened, a protest ready on the tip of your tongue, but the door was slamming again, and you huffed out the breath instead. Noah stared out at the food, his eyes scanning over everything, and you realised that he was worried about what Stiles had said. “I couldn't find the cutlery drawer.”

“What?” His attention was on you, it was enough of a distraction to drag his focus to you, and you smiled.

“Knives and forks. I couldn't find your cutlery drawer.”

“Oh.” He hummed, settling back into the cushions for a second, before snapping up to his feet, taking the action. “Oh! Right, yeah, ‘course. It’s all in that drawer that gets kinda’ stuck.” You followed him, a drawer that was so stuck you thought it was just a decorative drawer front, and it rattled loudly as he yanked it open. Plucking two sets of knives and forks, and a couple of spoons for serving up, he came back over. There were two pairs of chopsticks inside, and you snapped the wood apart, laying a set across the tips of each plate. As he sat, he took the hoodie he’d left, laying it across his lap, and putting down the utensils. “I brought you this. I thought it might be a bit more comfortable than wearing denim all evening.”

“You’re letting me borrow a hoodie? Your hoodies always look so soft!” You took the fabric from him, the zip on the front undone, and you shuffled forward to perch on the edge of your seat to pull it on. The oversized material on his broad shoulders was hanging over the edge of yours a little, and long sleeves were picked through where his thumb would go, but your index finger could slip through that patch instead, and you pulled it close around yourself.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, always. I hope it’s a weird question, those are always fun.” You turned back to him, watching as he scooped out a portion of rice onto his plate in order to avoid your eye as he searched for his word. You began to dish up your own food, peeling open the tub of sweet and sour sauce.

“What’s your favourite kind of frog?”

You beamed, the soft laugh you made gaining you a quick glance from him, and there was a smirk on his face. “I like those tree frogs with the poisonous secretions that tribespeople scrape off to make those fatal blow-dart things.”

“You answered that suspiciously fast. Who the fuck has a favourite frog?”

“I have a favourite lizard too, but it’s my turn to ask a question.” He nodded his head, swapping containers with you as he reached for something else, and you took the spoon too. “So, what was your real question?”

“Oh.” His face fell again, and you shifted closer, bumping your shoulder with him to encourage him silently, the two of you filling your plates. “I just wanted to know if us hanging out, and seeming like friends, is just for the study, or whether we’re really friends?”

“What do you want us to be, Noah?”

He tensed up slightly, clearly uncomfortable and on-edge about the question, and you gave him his time to answer. It took him a few minutes, but you were more than willing to give him that time, letting the scrapes of cutlery on porcelain and the polite crunches of food keep the silence from taking over.

“It’s not a trick-question, Noah. I just genuinely want to know what you want, so I’m not pushing any boundaries that you don’t want me to cross.”

“Okay, well, I don’t think I just want to be a lab rat to you. I like hanging out with you, you don’t make me feel so nervous anymore, in fact, you kinda’ make me feel at ease when I get overwhelmed by other people. I like how I feel around you, so, I don’t want to lose that.” He stabbed aggressively at a dumpling on his plate, using it to stop any more words from spilling out as he stuffed the whole of it between his cheeks, and it was clear that when he was really being himself, or had other things on his mind, he was just as messy and reckless an eater as Stiles was. “But, if you don’t want to be friends with me, or even act like we knew each other after this, then I’d totally get it. I’m not exactly anyone’s top choice for a friend, and you have a lot of friends, you don’t need anymore, when I don’t even have anything to offer anyway-”

You knelt up, taking his head in your hands, and pressing a kiss to his forehead, damp strands of hair brushing your nose as you gave him the same calming gesture he’d given you not so long prior. “Now who's rambling, huh?”

“Too much time with you, obviously.” He whispered, smiling when you sank back down to sit before him, and he reached his fingers up, two brushing lightly along his hairline where your lips had been. “Thanks. I was freaking out a bit.”

“I could tell, but you don’t need to. I’m not leaving until you actually tell me to.”

“Okay. Good.” He slowed the eating of his food, the half-chewed dumpling that had been pocketed in his cheeks like a hamster as the diversion failed him was returning, and he faced the TV for a second, lips pulled din half of a cocky smile a second later. “My friends have been asking about you. I think you need to kick their asses online again and remind them of your crowning victory.”

“Absolutely I will. Long live the queen.” He laughed softly at the joke, eyes flickering over your face as you turned to him, and there was a gleam in his eyes that you only ever saw when he let you get this close. It was a spark that was often extinguished by fear when others came around, but ignited when he was comfortable, and you were glad you got the privilege of knowing him when he truly let his guard down.

“So, what is your favourite lizard, then?”

[dylsexual]

3.24 Divine Move | Teen Wolf

[dylanholyhellobrien]

Come on.

[adrianfridge]

these hands were made for wrecking

[midnightwinterhawk]

Not to be a monsterfucker on main, but..

Just look at this beautiful bastard.

[charlie-boio]

The Only One For Me Part One

Summary: Everyone gets assigned a magical allegiance once they turn 16: Healers, Electrics, Shifters, and Darks, who were more often referred to as Voids. Once you reach 25, you no longer age until you meet soulmate.

After being outcasted by the world so long ago, Stiles Stilinski gave up on ever subjecting his soulmate to being with a Dark and decided that if the world would only ever treat him like it, he’ll be exactly what they wanted him to be: Void.

Word Count: 6,312

A/N: So, I really like this idea. Also I meant for this to be like a 5,000 word fic but it’s gonna be longer and this is now a two part fic because I procrastinated too hard and now my family is yelling at me to spend time with them. I’m sorry it took me awhile to write again lol I just needed to sit down and write. Anyways this is for @writingsbychlo Void Month, even though it’s the last day for it. This was a little bit inspired by her Stone Walls story because I love magic and the Billie Eilish song COPYCAT. I’ll try tagging those but I’m super new to posting new content so I have no idea how to do it lmao but I’ll give it a shot because y’all should check it out 😊 anyways I hope you enjoy this!!

Warnings: angst, smut but nothing too outrageous but it probably qualifies as rough smut, violence, blood, attempts at self-harm, mentions of suicide, I feel like I’m missing stuff so if I miss something and it triggers you I am so so sorry

I would also classify this as NSFW so read at your discretion.

  If you had known him back then, you wouldn’t believe that this dark, twisted, and fucked up man was that same bright and smiling boy before.

Stiles Stilinski was always a happy kid, and despite his awkwardness, people were naturally drawn to him. Sure, he had a biting, sarcastic sense of humor, but he was kind, sweet, and he cared for other people more than he cared for himself. He had loving parents, dozens of friends, and a welcoming home. His future, safe to say, was bright.

He was so excited to find out was his magical allegiance was; several friends had gotten it already and were unabashed in flaunting their powers about. He hoped he would be an Electric, wielding electricity through his fingers like the superheroes he always grew up idolizing was a dream come true. Of course, he’d be happy with being a Healer or a Shifter too.

Stiles couldn’t wait to meet his soulmate either. He already had gift ideas, dates planned, and he couldn’t wait to introduce them to all his friends, his family, and especially his mom. He wanted to travel the world with them, and he promised his unknown soulmate that he would protect them from anything that could ever harm them. He also didn’t see why he couldn’t get a head-start on gift making and love letters. After all, if they were his soulmate, they would be just as eager about all this soulmate stuff as he was.

Stiles didn’t know much about Darks, more commonly known as Voids. He just knew that they were extremely rare, and pretty much pure evil. There was only one thing anyone ever told him: stay far away from Voids.

Of course, you could imagine the absolute dread he felt when he found out what his magical allegiance was.

His parents, albeit afraid, still loved him and tried their best to reassure him, but they couldn’t stop his tears as he fled to his room, sobbing uncontrollably. He hoped with all his might that he would be different, that his friends would still love him, that he would still be able to do all the things he so desperately had wanted to do with his life.

You couldn’t imagine his grief on how wrong he had been.

It wasn’t subtle, it was instantaneous the change. Everyone turned against him: friends, teachers, even strangers he used to smile at from the sidewalk. He racked up two weeks’ worth of detention for things no one got detention for, and he had sat alone at the lunch table. The weeks flew by of him begging for people to understand he wasn’t any different! He hadn’t changed! He even pledged to never learn or master his powers, whatever they were, but it never made a difference. They all abandoned him, simply for something he had no control over, and that he would take back if he could.

It continued like this for two years, and slowly the outside world began to drain away the once happy boy. Day by day the light in his eyes dulled, he walked slower, and he grew quiet. He became a shell, empty of everything he once was. One day he looked through his drawer, seeing all his plans that he had made with his soulmate. How could he even have one? With the way the world was, even if he did have one, why would he ever subject them to a life with a Void? What kind of monster would do that?

He couldn’t bring himself to throw away those plans though. Despite his resolve to never meet his soulmate, somewhere deep down, he still wanted them to love him as much as he loved them already.

His parents will still supportive, seeing how it was the outside world changing him, not his supposed evil and vicious powers. They consoled him when it was a particular hard day and showed him every ounce of love and affection that they could. Stiles was forever grateful.

Which is why it only hurt even more when he had walked home from school and saw his house engulfed in flames.

He didn’t think much of the threats, they happened all the time since he was 16…he never thought anyone would act on it…h

The tears came fast before he could stop them. A sharp pain shot through his heart and flowed through his body as he fell to his knees. Even if they were alive, there’s no way in hell that anyone would come help him, a Dark…a Void…even though his parents were both Healers. They hadn’t done anything wrong…they had only loved him despite everything.

He stood shakily and ran. Ran away from everything. From his childhood home, from the town he grew up in, and from the house that was completely engulfed in flames. Stiles ran into the woods, limbs shaking while he collapsed again, resting against a tree, his head in the palms of his hands.

For the first time he no longer felt empty, he felt angry. How dare they? How they accuse him of being evil when he had nothing wrong all his life? Why kill his parents, the only people who ever truly loved him and were his one chance of being happy? The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. He snapped.

Fine, he thought. You all win, if you want me to be Void…I’ll be Void…

He stood up while rolling his neck, feeling the bones crack. He flexed his shoulders and raise up his palm, about to do something that he had never attempted. Stiles panicked for a second, then a burst of energy blasted him back, throwing him against a tree a hundred feet away. He groaned in pain and frantically looked around, wondering what had caused that. Then he realized…it was him!

Stiles realized everyone wasn’t afraid of him because he was evil, it was because everyone knew that he would be powerful.

He stood up and tried again, and dark spiraling lines flew from his hands and up into the sky. He still stumbled but held his footing. He laughed, enjoying the power flowing through his veins. He smirked, closing his fist.

Stiles turned back to the town, feeling something for the first time in a few years. He knew exactly what he had to do

*

*

  You were nervous, to say the least. She took deep breaths while walking up to the gated community of the Voids.

Everyone knew the story from 20 years ago, how Stiles Stilinski took up the name Void for himself and single-handedly drove everyone out of his hometown. Miraclously, nobody died, but plenty were maimed. He threatened anyone who would come to try to take back his town, and nobody needed to be told twice. From the around the world, Darks had come to this place seeking refuge from the outside world. Since this incident, Stiles Stilinski was known to the rest of the world and the true Void, and they all referred to him as such. The world hated him; he was everything parents warned their children about at night. He was the boogeyman, made of pure evil.

Except to the Darks. They worshipped him as their savoir, someone who saved them and gave them a place to live out in the open instead of casted out into the deepest darkest corners of the world. Many had even found their soulmates, after centuries of being alone.

Some people had also taken refuge here, even though they weren’t a Dark. Well there had been some tension, people in this town had learned that they all really weren’t any different from each other, and they all live in peace together, even if the rest of the world is divided.

Although, there have been new safe havens that have formed in these past 20 years, Stiles was the first to revolt back.

Which is why you were nervous because when you had decided to leave your parents who thought cruelly of Darks, you hadn’t expected to come across the original safe haven. Even though they had accepted others, you still felt a pool of dread hitting your stomach. Darks were weary of others for a reason…

As you approached the large gate, it opened partly, allowing someone from the community to walk out. You could make out his tanned skin and crooked jaw; reading his energy, you knew instantly he was a Void, which only made you more nervous. What if they don’t accept me?

He stopped in front of you but kept a good distance. He cocked his head to the side. “What are you doing here?” he asked cautiously.

“I-I need a place to stay”

“What? As a vacation?” You flinched automatically, feeling worse with every passing minute. If you couldn’t come here, where the fuck would you go?

“No…to live. I ran from home because they had driven out all the other Voids, and I didn’t agree with how the felt. A lot of my friends were Voids…they were good people,” You tried your best to seem confident, but your voice wavered. The boy stared coolly at you, not buying your story.

“How come you’re so damn nervous then?” he asked, malice dripping from his voice.

“Because…if you guys don’t want me here, which I understand, then no one will,” his eyes instantly softened at your words, nodding in the direction of the gate.

“Follow me,”

Relief instantly flooded your chest, a small smile creeping on your lips as you followed the boy. Together, you walked through the gates as they shut behind you, signaling the end of that chapter of your life. You could scream from the joy, but kept quiet, choosing to instead go up to the boy leading you around.

“Um…what’s your name?” you asked tentatively.

He turned to you, smiling slightly. “You don’t have to be nervous anymore, we won’t randomly throw you out. Promise,” he held out his hand to you, “and my name is Scott. Scott McCall. My mom and I moved here after my dad found out I was a Dark.”

“Oh…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ve learned through the years that the ones that truly care about you don’t care what your magical allegiance is. They just care about who you are…” he trails off, smiling to himself. He’s probably thinking of his soulmate, you thought to yourself. You wished more than anything to meet your soulmate.

“I’m y/n y/l/n,” you stated, snapping Scott out of his thoughts for a brief moment. He nodded to her, acknowledging the name. They walked in silence for a brief moment before he was giving her a tour of the town, telling her which houses were available and who lived where. You were amazed on how well people have acclimated here. You were hopeful for your future. After walking around town for a little while longer, you two settled into silence as you moved into another part of town. “So, who are they?”

Scott crooked an eyebrow. “Who?”

You smiled knowingly. “Your soulmate. You were thinking of them after talking about your dad.”

He smiled brighter at you; a light dusting of pink covered his cheeks. “Allison. Her situation was similar to yours, her parents didn’t approve of Voids,” his jaw ticked slightly. “But she didn’t feel the same way. We met here, and as soon as we made eye contact, we knew. Unfortunately, we were in town meeting that still had at least another hour…”

You laughed loudly at that. Of course you knew about how once you and your soulmate discovered each other, the sexual attraction between you two is remarkably high, to the point that you guys pretty much spend the day trying to satisfy your sexual needs. The longer you put it off, the stronger it gets. The thought of even surviving an hour seemed impossible to you.

He grinned sheepishly at you, the tension from earlier long gone. “Her dad eventually came around, and they reconciled. They live down that way now,” he nodded his head toward a winding road. “And I live a few blocks from them. We’ve decided to take things a little slow, considering we were 18 when we met, so we figured we had all the time in the world to settle down.” You nodded at his words, genuinely happy for you. “Have you met yours yet?”

Your shoulders slumped. “No, not yet. Hopefully soon though. Maybe I’ll met them here,” You wanted more than anything to meet your soulmate. It was something you’ve dreamed about ever since you’ve heard of having one. You only hoped that they would be just as excited to meet you. “I had a boyfriend back home, but looking back now, I’ve realized he was rather abusive. He also hated Darks with a passion, and tried to forbid me from fraternizing with them”

“What was he, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“A shifter, I’m-“

“A healer. I know,” He smiled at you. “Do you give health or take away?”

You paused before answering, “…take away. Another reason for leaving…” Scott merely nodded, not pressing the subject further.

The two of you turned a corner to see a lone house on top of a hill. It was smaller than the other houses in this town, and looked to be uninvited to the rest of the community. You turned to Scott. “Who lives up there?”

Scott looked up toward the house, and for a second you thought you saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes, but it was gone as fast as it came. “That’s…Stiles…Stiles Stilinski.”

Your eyes widened. “He’s still here? He’s not dead? No one’s seen him…”

Scott laughed humorlessly at that. “Well, he’s had it pretty rough, even for a Void. He doesn’t come into town often, and when he does, he usually keeps to himself. Even though it’s a safe haven, he’s still distrusts everyone. Of course, he sure as hell doesn’t step foot outside those gates,” You looked up at the house, feeling such sorrow for this Stiles, despite having never met him before.

Scott cleared his throat. “You’ll definitely see him around, but don’t expect him to say hi or anything,” You nodded, walking back up the path toward some of the open houses.

*

*

  Stiles held out his hand to the baby doe, some bread being offered to the nervous creature. It took a tentative step forward, sniffing the air. He crouched down even lower, and extended his arm a little further for them. Slowly, the doe started to walk toward him.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, holding out his hand even further. Eventually, it reached his hand and ate the bread from his palm. He tipped his head and smiled slightly at the baby.

Suddenly, the doe’s eyes widened, and it sprinted away from him. Stiles knelt there still, his face falling, before he heard the sound of footsteps behind him and he grew annoyed.

“What do you want, Scott?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “I know you like me, Stiles, you wouldn’t have let me come up this far otherwise.”

“What do you want?”

“Relax, it’s not another attempt to drag you downtown,” Scott sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at his jaw. “I’m just here to tell you there’s a new member in our community.”

Stiles turned to him scowling. “I’m not the mayor, I don’t need to know that shit.”

“Well, the mayor thinks you do; he considers you at least the owner of this town.”

“I don’t collect rent.”

“You know what I mean,” Scott said. Stiles stood up and brushed past him, walking into the house. To his dismay, Scott followed him. “Her name’s y/n y/l/n. She’s not a Dark, but she believes they deserve equal treatment like the others here so she left her town and family. She’s a Healer, but she takes away health instead of giving it.” Scott paused, waiting for his reaction. When Stiles didn’t give one, Scott moved toward the door.

He don’t what came over him, but suddenly his mouth was moving without him telling it to, “Where does she live?”

Scott stopped, turning abruptly toward him. Stiles tried to maintain his composure; he knew this was something he never asked. Scott gave him an odd look before answering, “She lives on Milton Road, not far from Allison and I.” Stiles nodded. When he didn’t say anything else, Scott left him to be on his own. Despite the cool interaction, Scott smiled to himself. He had a feeling, but he wouldn’t say anything. He knew how badly Stiles had been burned, and he wouldn’t want to get his hopes up for nothing. Scott realized he wasn’t even sure if Stiles wanted his soulmate around. Scott shook his head and started the route back to his home.

Meanwhile, Stiles frantically walked through his house up to the single guest bedroom, not that he had any guests. The room was void of everything, except from a bed and a desk with a single drawer. He walked shakily up to the desk and opened the drawer. Inside were the plans, ideas, and letters he had written to his soulmate years ago. He wasn’t sure why he’d kept them; he wasn’t ever gonna find his soulmate if they weren’t dead already. But he couldn’t will himself to throw them out. It was the only thing keeping him from losing himself completely to his new persona of Void. He wanted to spite the world for as long as he could, and for some reason these letters helped.

Stiles slammed the drawer shut and stormed away.

*

*

  You had acclimated well with everyone here. You quickly became friends with Allison, which in turn had you become friends with Scott as well. They ended up introducing you Lydia, Malia, and Derek as well. You made some of your own friends as well, feeling the happiest you had since before finding out your magical allegiance at 16.

Slowly, you had began to gain more confidence in yourself too, figuring out what you want versus what you didn’t want. You weren’t sure what you wanted out of your life yet, but the happier you became here with your friends, the more you longed for someone to share your life with. You hoped with every new person you met that they would be the one, but every time you were deeply disappointed.

You remember clearly the first day you saw Stiles himself. You had decided to get some ice cream with Scott, Allison, and Lydia, who were all laughing loudly at the fact that you were a virgin after each of them had talked about who was their first.

“Seriously? Not once? Not even drunk?” Lydia asked through her giggles. Scott and Allison were still laughing furiously.

Your blush grew even deeper. “No,” you said firmly.

“I thought you said you had a boyfriend?” Scott asked after finally calming down.

“I did…Adam wanted to as well. ‘For practice’ as he would say, and I know people have that mindset to be good in bed for their soulmate, but I always thought that I was betraying them if I did that. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, even drunk” you finished, more embarrassed than ever. Everyone at home thought that your mindset was stupid, and told you so, but when you looked at your friends, they were smiling, saying how they understood your mindset. You smiled to yourself, wondering how you could ever doubt their intentions.

When you looked up, that’s when you saw him.

He was walking by himself, moving slowly across the street. While his stride and shoulders gave the illusion of confidence to anyone who was merely glancing by, the way his head dipped low and forlorn face gave away his insecurity in himself. Many people waved brightly at him, happy to see him about for the first time. Being polite, he would nod and give a small smile, but nothing more.

You couldn’t help but stare. The way his jeans fit his legs, or his black leather jacket with a black shirt clung to him in all the right ways. You were expecting someone with gusto, someone like Adam who bullied their way around with their strength and loud voice. You weren’t expecting him to be the skinny kid who could barely say hello.

“Who’s that…?” you whispered.

Scott turned his head, his smile instantly fading. “That’s Stiles,” He gave you a knowing look.

“Is he always alone?”

“Sometimes he joins Scott for a walk, or will have dinner with us. He won’t say much though, and Derek will forever boost on how he got him to crack a smile at one of his jokes,” Lydia said, flicking her long hair back and taking a sip of her milkshake. “Scott makes it a point to visit him though and tell him what we’re up to, at least once a week.”

You looked down at your ice cream, feeling your heart break at the fact that he was so scarred from the world that he felt like he had to be alone.

By the time you looked up again, Stiles was gone.

 Stiles had seen you too. Scott had mentioned to him that he was getting ice cream with Allison today and he was feeling up for sitting with his friends, even if they never considered him to be one. However, he wasn’t expected you to be there either. You and Lydia must’ve been invited sometime after Scott’s visit. He stopped in his tracks and stared at you, enthralled in your beauty. All the confidence he had earlier in seeing his friends completely vanished, and he quickly turned his heel and bolted back up to his home. Once there, he slammed the door shut and leaned against it, taking quick breaths to calm his racing heart.

*

*

  Scott had told him plenty about you, and the more Scott talked, the more Stiles wanted to see you for yourself. You had seemed too good to be true. You were smart, funny, kindhearted, not to mention beautiful, and you seemed to get along well with all of his other friends. You had a troubled past like him, but you had seemed to grow from it instead of drowning in it like Stiles had

Scott had also told you about Stiles, with what little he knew. You knew nothing of his past, but you knew he wasn’t the cold-blooded creature that you had learned about in school. He was extremely polite, however little things could set him off sometimes, and he didn’t really speak. You figured he had crawled instead his shell after whatever had happened to him, and you were determined to find the real Stiles, wherever he was.

However, you two seemed to always miss each other.

You would find out that the one time you’d missed dinner with Scott, Allison, Derek, and Lydia, Stiles had shown up. Or you would see him out on the street, but never with enough courage to talk to him. You two haven’t even made eye contact.

He’d done his best to try to meet you, and the other residents in town had started to notice that instead of venturing out of his home a few times a year after Scott’s relentless begging to now going out nearly every single day. He’d even gone as far as holding a small conversation with some of the people who stopped to thank him on the street. Despite his anxiety screaming at him to run and hide away until everyone forgot he was there, he wanted to meet you.

But he couldn’t stop his racing heart every time he saw you, and just as you turned to look in his direction he’d turn away, cursing himself for still being so distrustful of everyone.

He’d made progress, but not enough. The dark thoughts were still there, tormenting his mind that you would turn against him, judge for being a Void, for being the true Void. He also couldn’t help but wonder if he was the one person you would dislike.

Stiles laid awake at night, wondering if he’d ever muster up the courage to talk to you.

*

*

  Adam was disgusted. His parents had just finished telling him about how there were now over 100 safe havens across the globe. Disgusting. How dare they? How dare they even exist? They knew they’re place 20 years ago, until that motherfucker Void drove out his town. He was lucky no one died, else he’d be rotting in jail where he fucking belongs.

The more Adam thought about it, the more he thought somebody should do something about these little “safe havens”. Why hasn’t anybody even fucking tried? More importantly…why hadn’t he tried.

He had followed y/n when she left, followed her straight into the original safe haven. Void’s safe haven, and he watched her get in. He could shape shift easily into someone…no, he could kill one of the guards, take their form, and get in with absolute ease. If was able to kill him, their supposedly savoir, then these little safe havens would disappear. Y/n would come flying back into his arms once he becomes the person that saved the goddamn world from these monsters.

He disguised himself as a little girl, knowing that his magical allegiance would quickly be disguised as she was too little to even have one, and limped up to the gate. Of course, the guard that night took complete pity, which he took advantage of.

He was easily to kill, just a quick snap of his neck and he was on the ground. A painless death for someone who didn’t deserve it.

Quickly taking his form, he slipped through the gates, making up some random excuse as to why he didn’t let her in.

*

*

  Stiles paced around his living room, anxiously biting at his nails. He hadn’t been this fucking nervous in years. He kept glancing at the clock, watching the seconds tick by when the knock came tentatively at the door. Stiles rushed and flew it open in seconds, ushering a very confused Scott into the room.

“Hey, hey dude take it easy!” Scott said, laughing nervously. “What’s the big emergency?”

“How do you know there is one?”

“Well…you’ve never invited me here before,” Scott shifted on his feet and glanced down at the floor.

Shame immediately flooded through Stiles. “Oh…I’m sorry. Really. I guess I haven’t really been a good friend…”

Scott’s eyebrows raised. He hadn’t known that Stiles considered him a friend, and he broke into a huge grin at the thought, relieved that his pestering to go into town wasn’t a total waste. “You haven’t been, you’ve just taken your time getting used to having friends again. I understand.”

A silence fell over them, before Stiles remembered why he had called him in the first place. “Oh um, if you don’t mind, I kind of need a favor…”

“Anything,”

“Well,” Stiles shuffled nervously. He walked over to the counter and picked up the enveloped. Taking a deep breath, he held out to Scott. “I need you to give this to y/n for me. I…don’t know where she lives exactly and every time I go out I seem to miss her…or I psych myself out. I’m hoping this’ll help us get to know each other,” He smiled nervously at Scott, who’s face had spilt into a huge grin.

“Of course, man, I’m happy to do it. I’ll deliver it on my way home. Promise,” Scott said. He turned and made his way to the door before stopping and turning back to Stiles. “Hey man, I’m proud of you for this. This’ll be the first friend you make without me having to introduce you,”

With that, he left Stiles alone. Stiles smiled to himself, feeling something for the first time since he was 16, happiness.

*

*

 You had been at home, enjoying a small glass of wine when Scott came knocking at your door. You had barely even cracked open the door before he came bursting through, exclaiming wildly about the encounter he had just had with Stiles. It took you awhile to calm him down in order for you to understand exactly what he was saying. Scott excitedly handed you the letter Stiles had written for you before running out the door to tell Allison about Stiles’ progress.

With shaky hands, you opened the letter from him. Surprisingly, he had such beautiful handwriting and wrote very eloquently. He apologized dearly for somewhat avoiding you, saying how he wasn’t the confident, charismatic person everyone here saw him as (you already knew that), and that he would love to have you over for dinner tonight so he could get to know you better. Of course, you welcomed to decline for whatever reason.

Tears pricked at your eyes. You were completely honored that Stiles wanted to get to know you. You knew exactly how cautious he was with letting people into life. Of course, you happily accepted his invitation, and began to get ready. You weren’t sure how formal this was supposed to be but decided that a pink skirt that swished down to your knees and a white blouse with matching vans would be good. Stiles would probably be nervous to see you and you didn’t want him to feel overwhelmed if you wore something too nice. It would be a lovely friend date for the two of you.

Feeling as though you were a giddy ten-year-old on the way to a birthday party, you left your home and made the walk up to the Stilinski home.

*

*

 Stiles was once again nervous. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect for dinner tonight. He wasn’t the best cook, and after burning a chicken in the oven, he decided that take out would be a suitable option instead. Well, if you were coming.

He hoped you were, else he’d probably regress back a few steps. He didn’t want to, especially because of how happy Scott seemed when he told him about this. He wanted to do better, to be better.

A rapid knock came at the door. Stiles heart instantly fluttered as he took once last look at the mirror, making sure he looked alright. Taking quick steps, he opened the door-

BAM! The door flew open, knocking Stiles back to the floor, hitting his head hard. Before he could figure out what the fuck was going on, something grabbed his throat, lifted him up, and shoved him against the wall.

“Open your eyes, Void,” a deep voice sneered.

Fuck.

Slowly, he pried his eyes open, seeing an unfamiliar face. Thankfully, since he’d been spending much more time in town, he knows roughly who lives here. This man definitely does not live here.

“Who the fuck are you?” Stiles wheezed, grabbing at the hand around his throat, trying to summon his magic.

“Adam Tameson, and don’t you dare use your power unless you want me to kill people in this town. Do you really want that?” Your face flashed through Stiles’ head, and he stopped any attempt at magic. “Good, and since I’m a good person, I’ll keep my word, even after I kill you. Because I’m good, unlike all you monsters. You Voids.” He spat. “I’ll be hero, killing the famous Stiles Stilinski. I hope you’ve had a good enough life, oh wait, I know you haven’t,” Adam laughed coolly. He grew out his nails until they became sharp claws that dug into his flesh. One of them pierce his skin just barely.

Suddenly, Adam’s smirk disappeared and his skin paled. He began coughing rapidly, blooding pooling into his mouth. Letting go of Stiles’ neck, he sunk to the floor, coughing and wheezing as he gasped for air but nothing came through until eventually the light died in his eyes and his body froze. It took Stiles a couple seconds to realize that he was dead.

Stiles leaned back against the wall, taking deep breaths to recover when he finally looked up to see his savoir. His eyes locked on your form, you stood over his body, panting. You were shaking slightly, him realizing that this was probably the first time you’d killed someone. Stiles knew the feeling, only having killed in self-defense himself. He reached out and grazed his fingers over your arm reassuringly. You eyes snapped up to look into his.

Suddenly, he knew why he had been so attracted to you, and why it was impossible for him to even approach you at first. You both knew. You two were soulmates.

People had told them about the sexual desire you felt when you discovered your soulmate, but he still wasn’t prepared for it. He tried his best to hold back, not wanting to fuck up with you.

That lasted an agonizing 10 seconds.

In an instant, you flew into his arms, kissing him passionately. Your arms wrapped around his neck while he picked you up, legs wrapping around his torso. He turned and pressed your back against the wall. The kiss was rough, teeth and tongues clashing messily together. Your legs were so tightly wrapped around his waist that he was able let one of his hands roam around your body. Grabbing at the top of your shirt, he pulled down harshly, exposing your breasts to him. He grabbed at them roughly, moving his lips down to your neck so he could bite at the sensitive skin, loving the moans that were coming out of you.

He suddenly dropped you, making you stumble slightly on shaky legs. He reached under your skirt and ripped apart your panties, throwing them across the room. You made quick work of the belt on his jeans, unbuckling them and tearing them off. Stiles undid the button on his jeans and pulled them down along with his boxer briefs. His hardened cock bounced up, precum leaking through the slit.

Stiles’ hand sneaked around and grabbed roughly at your ass before wrapping your legs around himself again. He lined himself at your soaked entrance and slammed into you.

“Oh fuck Stiles!” You moaned loudly. He growled at you, sliding out almost completely before slamming back into you. He set a punishing pace, thrusting into you again and again. You leaned your head back into the wall, being thrown into a world of absolute pleasure, you’re eyes rolled back into your head.

“God you’re so fucking tight,” Stiles mumbled into your ear, along with various other obscenities, spurring you on with his filthy words.

The adrenaline from killing Adam, finding your soulmate, and with the way Stiles thrusted up into you hard and fast, the pleasure was building so quickly in your stomach you couldn’t keep up.

“I’m-I’m close” you whimpered.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded, tipping your head forward. You complied, staring into his darkened, lust blown eyes. He lifted his hand, licking the pads of two of his fingers. He slipped his hand under, pressing harshly on your throbbing clit, and you cried out, fire spreading through your veins.

“Cum for me,” he growled in your ear, biting down on your lobe.

Just from his tone, the fire in your stomach broke loose as you came harshly, your core clenching on cock. A few deep thrusts later and he was following suit, his cum shooting up into you, filling you to the brim.

You two stayed like that, your legs wrapped around him, his cock still buried deep within you. Your heartbeats were in sync together, you two enjoying the feeling of being with one another.

Unfortunately, reality came crashing back down. Stiles realized exactly what he’d done: ruined any chance of being able to be your friend. His anxiety took over again, screaming at him for being a fuck-up. He couldn’t have a soulmate; he was a Dark. Void. What kind of life is that for a soulmate?

He dropped you suddenly, and you collapsed on the floor, utterly exhausted. However, you looked at him with worry in your eyes. He ran around, grabbing his belt and re-doing his jeans. He looked at your eyes, and guilt and lust churned in his chest. What the fuck is he supposed to do?

“Stiles…” you whispered.

Then he did the worst possible thing he could’ve done.

He ran.

[usermischief]

[peachybrook]

This isn't you, Stiles.

It is now.

"There are thirteen kinds of kitsune. Celestial, wild, ocean, thunder…But there is one, a dark kitsune. They call it Void. Or Nogitsune."

Third post for Void Month | @writingsbychlo

(Gif is not mine. Credits to the owner.)

[laheysdork]

PARTNERS IN CRIME - VOID!STILES X EVIL S/O

the joker and harley quinn of beacon hills

[writingsbychlo]

sun in the shadows (03)

word count; 12,706

summary; trying to make some headway on the study leads to an interesting revelation, and progress in your friendship with noah.

notes; if this part is a little sucky, I apologise. it was a last minute addition that I created because I realised I wanted to include some extras.

warnings; brief mentions of panic attacks/anxiety, but it’s very mild.

The weather was improving, the drizzle of the winter and the grey skies overhead were getting lighter, the showers of rain were getting less frequent and the winter was moving on. Spring was making itself known, bulbs of daffodils were finally taking root in the soil, and green was sprouting from the earth that had been frozen over and dead only a couple of weeks ago. The watery floors were drying up, limited ice was fading away, and graduation was sitting right on the horizon for you all.

Your fingers flexed around the strap of your bag, rooting through the contents to find a place to slip your file inside, all your notes for the class you’d be having were inside, and there was a blank page for your next session waiting to be filled out. Once it had its place, albeit getting a little bit crumbled against the other content, you removed your wallet, a few coins jingling in the bottom, and you hoped it was enough for two coffees.

There was a coffee stand not too far away, and you were hoping an extra shot of coffee before you went in might get your brain working a little faster. Only a couple of feet ahead of you was a face you recognised, a dark jumper to match dark denim jeans, a pair of boots for motorbike riding that were beginning to scuff along the edges and the toes. He was hanging over his money, a brown bag holding a pretzel and a tall cup, the tell-tale tag of a teabag hanging over the edge, and he walked away.

Joining the back of the line, you watched him go, sitting not far across the quarter with his headphones on, settling on one of the recently repainted memorial benches. He pulled the tab on eh coffee back, opening it up and a cloud of steam left the drink, curling up into the air that still held a slight chill, drifting away to disappear as he blew against the surface of the drink. In his other hand was his phone, scrolling aimlessly on it as a way to keep himself disconnected from everyone else around him and prompt nobody else to join him. His bag was out on the bench too, pushed a short distance from his body in an attempt to take up the rest of the space to deter company.

Ordering a simple set of black coffees, and finding you had just enough change for a muffin too, you waited patiently for your order, an assortment of condiments and the double-chocolate treat you’d paid for being handed to you first. There was a grinding, the slight screech of the machine as it crushed the beans to create two black coffees for you, plastic lids sealed on and two cardboard jackets fastened around them.

Balancing the load between them all, you headed over to him, using your knee to nudge the bag up the bench until it bumped his leg, and he jerked slightly, looking up to see you. Offering him a beam, his narrowed eyes lightened a little, and he sighed. Putting down his phone and moving his bag to the floor, he lifted the headphones away from his ears, and let them hang around his neck. Sitting yourself down, he slumped back into the wood, and you scooted up to sit closer to him, placing the spare coffee you’d bought for Stiles on the floor away from your feet.

“Hey, Noah!” He gave a short nod, still a little uncomfortable, and he turned to face you more. “So, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“How did you know I was here?”

You shrugged, opening up the bag of extras and searching through for a couple of sweetener packets, and a wooden stirrer. “I didn’t. I was just gonna’ grab a coffee before class and head to my hall early, because, y’know, studying at home is distracting.” Your hand waved off the statement, finding the packets you wanted, and clutching your cup between your knees for stability. “So, anyway I was going to text you when I got there, but then I saw you, so I figured I’d come and say ‘hey’!”

“Right.”

“So, hey!” You waved a little before taking the top from your coffee, and leaving it on the bench beside yourself. “I ask once again, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“Well, since I am the most popular guy at this college, I’m pretty busy.” He smiled a little at his own joke, particularly when you gave him a laugh, and your brow raised.

“Oh, he’s got jokes today, huh? I like it, I can roll with that.” Tipping the sugar into the cup, you added a couple of packets, before stirring it slowly. “I take it you’re free, then. I was hoping we could squeeze in some study stuff this afternoon. I have a class in a couple of minutes, but I wanted to see if you were free?”

“Well, I’m free all day. I had a six AM class.” His face screwed up at the idea, and you could feel his pain, having spent the entirety of your sophomore year with a teacher who held lectures at six AM so she could avoid her morning sickness before class, and rush home for it afterwards. Professor Anderson going off on her maternity leave was the best thing that had happened to your education that year.

“Great, I’ll sort it with Stiles, and we’ll text you the details.”

“Sounds like a thrill. I can hardly wait.” He smiles, the sarcasm just like his brothers as it came through, and you repaid him for the joke with a chuckle. While the two of you had made progress, you could tell he was still a little unsure around you. You were polar opposites and he didn’t take well to that, the atmosphere that you brought with you could be a little too much for him to handle sometimes, you couldn’t stop the guilt that was eating at you a little. “What’s wrong? You’ve got a look on your face like you want to talk about things. Just warning you, I’m not good at that heart-to-heart stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve witnessed that.”

“Shut it.” He teased, sticking his tongue out at you childishly, and you grinned cheesily in reply to him. “You can tell me, though. Can’t promise I’ll help, but..”

“It’s nothing weighing me down. I just wanted to apologise. I clearly interrupted your free time. You got yourself a little pretzel to eat in silence, and everything.” He offers you a blank look at your slight dig, and you only winked, waving the muffin in a bag that you’d bought, and taking a sip of your coffee once the lid was sealed back on. “People usually like it when I stop by to see them, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay, really.” His words were strained, the response bringing you no relief as he forced them out, and your frown remained. “I’m serious, okay? It’s alright.”

You were trying your best but learning the lines with Noah was different to you. Upon starting college you’d been thrown in at the deep end of socialisation and a whole world you’d never quite had access to before. Coming from a smaller town that had always limited your expectations was tough, and you’d taken it differently from the way Noah had. You’d had so many experiences, becoming legal to drink and venturing beyond your comfort zone, truly leaving home and facing the idea of having your life laid out before you, the first time truly having your heartbroken, and being too far to simply collapse into the arms of your mom or dad for support when things got messed up.

“When does your class start?” You jumped, lost in your thoughts as you slumped back into the bench, and you sat up straight again, turning to find that Noah was already looking at you, eyes scanning over you slowly. It was a good reminder, time had been slipping away from you and in the ease of his peaceful and quiet company, you could have sat there for hours.

Checking your watch, you sighed, lifting your bag strap back up onto your shoulder more securely, and packing everything you had with you inside, leaving you to hold a coffee cup in each hand. “In about ten minutes.”

“How about I walk you?” He picked up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder, and you nodded, a warmer feeling at his offer blooming where cold guilt had been. Standing up and making sure not to spill any of the scalding coffee onto your hand. Peering around the busy campus quarters that was more filled now than it had been for months, the lighter weather tempting groups to come out of their dormitories and the cafés to gather outside instead.

He fell into step beside you, toes scuffing occasionally on the slightly uneven stonework of the quad, before it fell away into smooth concrete pathways on the way to your lecture. The grass alongside each path was growing greener, dull colour fading away into something brighter. Paper crinkled beside you, the cup of tea in his hands being finished and the cardboard cup was crushed between string fingers, knuckles even paler than usual as he crumpled it up, and as you approach the closest bin, it was disposed of.

Your fingers flexed around your coffee cup, almost having forgotten that it was there as the heat from the two began to fade away a little. Taking a sip, the refreshing burst of sweetened caffeine was like a spark to your system, and you revelled in it. “How do you take your coffee?”

You lower the cup from your lips, swallowing your mouthful, and you couldn't stop the rise of your brows once you turned to look at him. “Creamer, usually. I like a caramel flavoured one. But, since I’m not big on creamer in packets or from street vendors, this one just has sweeteners.”

“Cool.” He nodded, and your lips pressed together tightly to try and contain the smile you wanted to let free, silence forming between you both for a moment, a further gathering of steps as the two of you went on, your building coming into sight again. “Did you watch the news last night?”

“Is this small talk?”

“It’s an attempt at small talk.” He winced, and you chuckled, a small smile on his features as the fear of judgement or humiliation washed away, and he gave a sigh.

“Okay, let's try this.” Your mind spun, searching for a track of something to talk about, and a thought clicked into space. “If you could watch one genre of movies for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Comedy. Like, comedy-action. You know, ones like ‘Jumanji’ or something?” He was quick with it, certain about his answer, and you nodded.

“Yeah? That was quick. How come you’re so sure?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, one hand coming up to hold his bag strap, swinging it to the side to be able to get inside, and fish out the paper bag with a pretzel inside. “I guess I just think they’re good for you. Good for the soul. They have action and it keeps you a little on the edge of your seat, but it’s funny. It's easy-going, when you’ve got anxiety, or you’re having a bad day, or you just want background noise, they’re perfect.”

“Alright. Fair enough. Okay, tricky one.” his eyes narrowed a little, but an amused look passed over his features while he waited. “If you had to choose specifically between comedy and action, which is it?”

“It’s got to be action. Because comedy usually means Adam Sandler or Seth Rogen, and some of their comedies are good, but some are jus-” He paused, jaw dropping a little, and his hand came out, pausing in front of your to bring you to a halt too. A smile curled on your lips, and he looked shocked. “Holy shit, you’re good!”

“Ask a basic question that people are passionate about, it always leads to more options, and everyone always wants to talk about something fun.” His head shook slowly, as though he was in disbelief, and you took a dramatic bow, trying not to spill the coffees in your hands as you giggled. “Give it a go, I bet you can do it.”

The paper in his hands crinkled, your footsteps taking up again, and the two of you were making your way towards the building once again. Taking a bite from his pretzel, a piece torn away with his teeth, he thought it over. “Does your family have any secret or ‘famous’ recipes?”

“Oh, that’s a good one. Kudos to you, Noah.”

“Thank you. I thought about it for, like, eight whole seconds.” He grinned, the joke moving away from you both as you left it behind, and you thought about his question.

“Maybe it’s not my family recipe, just a personal one, but I’m great at making lasagne.” He scoffed, and you nudged him with your elbow. “I’m serious! I make a great lasagne!”

“You don’t seem like a cook to me, is all! You seem like the sort of person who’d manage to burn a pit of water.”

“You can’t burn water, an.. oh, I just got it. You jerk.” It was a joke, your nose screwing up as you stuck your tongue out at him, thanking him a second later as he held the door open for him. The bright lights of the outside changed to artificial lights in the halls, not as much coming through the windows as trees outside managed to cast shade into the building. “Well, I can cook. I love to cook, and I’m good at it. Especially lasagne. My family are generally the only ones who have ever had it, and thanks to that insult, you’ll never have it.”

“Oh, woah, no! You have to let me try it now. Prove me wrong, or I’ll be forced to believe you’re bluffing.”

“You’re sneaky.” You scoffed, students filling the hall and filtering in from different sides of the building, lectures in different halls all waiting to take place, and you stepped to the side of the corridor once your doorway was within reach. “If you’re lucky.”

“I’m betting on that.”

Glancing back, Stiles was already inside, as expected. Stiles Stilinski had never once been on time, he was either twenty minutes early or twenty minutes late, and since he’d spent the night with Derek, who was an early bird, you’d figured which one today would be. His head was slumped on his hm half-asleep and on the verge of drooling as he sat there, and you chuckled, turning to Noah. “Thanks for walking me. Also, thanks for small-talking with me.”

“Thanks for the advice on small talk.”

“I’m gonna’ head inside, but, I’ll see you later, okay?” He nodded, confirming the times with you, and lingering a moment longer. It was quiet, but not so tense, and he rolled on the balls of his fete, the half-eaten pretzel in his hands was seemingly abandoned as one hand tucked into his jeans pockets, the other hanging limply while holding the delicacy by his side.

“Thanks for sitting with me. This wasn’t so bad. It was almost fun.”

“You know, one day, you’re gonna’ tell me you had fun with me. I look forward to that day.” He smirked, your head tipping to the side at the expression.

“If you’re lucky.” He was repeating your own words back to you, and you beamed at the chance. Backing away from him slightly, you fixed him with the cheekiest glance you could as you walked through the doorway.

“I’m betting on it.”

You could hear his laugh once you were gone, into the classroom and beginning to take the steps up to a seat beside Stiles that he’d reserved for you, his bag sitting on it. He’d already gotten his equipment out, notepads and pencil laid out in a somewhat organised mess on top of the desk.

Placing the two coffees down, you moved Stiles bag to the floor, tucking it behind his chair and a soft snore made itself known from him, the boy not doing well with early mornings but he never had, not once in your years of knowing him had he handled it very well, so it was no surprise.

“Opening up your bag, you dropped your notebook down onto the surface with a loud ‘slapping’ sound, and he jerked upwards, flailing as he did, and almost knocking the coffees over. Blinking quickly and shaking sleep away, he looked around, eyes wide as he finally focused on you.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that.” He chastised you, leaning back in his seat and holding a hand over his heart. “I was dreaming about high school, I thought you were my lacrosse Coach waking me up for falling asleep in class again.”

“Maybe I am.” You winked, slamming a hand down on the counter. “Drop and give me twenty, Stilinski! Right now!”

“Don’t do that, it’s eerily accurate.” He cringed, shuddering a little, before a wide smile replaced the horrified expression that had morphed, and you pushed a coffee over to him. “You brought me a coffee?”

“Yes, I did. It’s bribery.”

“Oh? What am I being bribed for?” He was curious, rooting through the bag of condiments for it and taking the plastic lid from the cup, steam curling out into the air. Taking an ungodly and certainly unhealthy amount of sweetener and sugar packets to load into his coffee.

“Your free time this afternoon. I’m thinking about getting some of my study done, I can get all the work for the next couple of sessions sorted now, but how do you feel about being asked some later?” He tipped them in, a drop of coffee flying up over the edge and landing on the desk as he stirred his drink with vigour, that same hyper excitement that he always had.

“Can’t I just fill them out now?”

“It’d be better if I could get your responses with Noah.” He sighed, rolling his eyes and making a scene of it, but there was a smile that told you he already agreed.

“You should have brought me two coffees, but fine.”

You let out a victorious ‘aha!’, and shook the little brown paper bag that was still sitting on your half of the desk at him. “I also brought you half of a muffin!”

“Only half of a muffin?”

“Well, it was none, but since I didn’t eat it yet and I’d feel bad eating it in front of you, I decided to share it.” You tore it in half, pushing half across the scratched and vandalised wooden surface to him. Crumbs were left along the surface, and Stiles pressed the pad of his finger along them to gather them all up.

“Oh, right. Well, in that case, what I meant was; wow, a full half of a muffin!” He cheered, much more enthusiasm, and you nodded.

“Much better.” At the front of the classroom, your tutor entered, door slamming behind him as he kicked the wedge out from underneath, and his case was placed down on the desk. The room began a hushed quiet, save for the loud slurping of Stiles with his coffee beside you.

“You know,” Your best friend didn’t understand the concept of a whisper, everything he did was more like a dramatic stage whisper on a Broadway show, and a few dirty looks were sent his way. The professor was used to this, a year of experience and advice from previous tutors guiding him to ignore Stiles’ fidgeting and chatter. “You’re going to have to convince Noah to do this.”

Slumping down in your seat a little more, you turned your head to him, nibbling on your half of the muffin. “I already did.”

“What?” This time he was hushed, the man standing at the front near his desk, trying his best to give extra advice to everyone and answer any common questions that he’d been emailed. You’d have to catch the after-class notes in your emails. “When d’you do that?”

“This morning before class. I saw him while getting coffee for you and we walked over.”

Stiles huffed, his brows being pulled together slightly. “Okay. Damn, he was my last free shot at getting the afternoon off.” You grinned, pinching at your friend’s cheek, and he smacked your hand away. “Quit it, I’ve told you not to do that before.”

“In case I pinch your moles off?”

“That's where my power is. My funny is in my moles.” He hissed, only making you laugh more, and you covered your mouth with your hand over his silly superstitions.

“Whatever, freak.”

“Hoe.” He snarked back, and you grinned, punching at his shoulder as best you could from this angle, and he reached up a hand to rub at it. “So, if we’re doing this, I at least want to do it at my place. I’m going out this evening, I gotta’ be ready. Derek’s sisters are coming up to visit.”

“It won’t take long, don’t worry.” He hummed, pulling out his phone and keeping it ducked from view. He was texting his brother, letting him know to be ready, and at what time your class would be ending, giving him a little time to prepare. Opening your book up and flicking to the page you had marked, it was a journal written about the study of the ways that twins raised in different households could grow up similarly, and you were hoping to adopt some of the content for your study.

“So, what’ve you got done so far?”

Stile sighed, flicking open his notebook, and you were shocked by the fact that he was already at the end of it. There were pieces of paper stuck in, a list of book references on one of the tabs down the side of a page, and only a few blank pages left at the back.

“Oh, wow, okay.” You stared at your notebook, barely reaching a quarter of the way through with the notes you’d been making, and it looked like Stiles was ready to start making progress towards a conclusion for his hypothesis. “So, you’ve got a whole lot done, then.”

“Yeah, well, I want to spend as little time in a prison as I possibly can.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead, the pages crammed full of information as he flicked through to find a blank one. “Plus, I didn’t want to go and interview inmates on my own, so I wait until Derek has free time to go with me, and I get as much done in those sessions as I can.”

“You’re gonna’ be done weeks before I am.” You pouted, your pen twirling at the top corner of a page, drawing a collation of pretty flowers to form a border, and he chuckled.

“I have easier test subjects than you do. They’re already guilty and behind bars, they’re more than happy to open up. You’ve gotta’ deal with Noah.”

“That’s true.” You grinned, thinking back on the conversation you’d had with the other twin that morning. When he was alone, it wasn’t so bad, he talked more and he wasn’t so worried about judgements, but as soon as there was someone else who might hear, he completely closed down.

“Hey, seriously, we have ages left. You’re gonna’ be just fine.”

“I’m just freaking out a little bit, because this is the last hurdle, y’know?” He nodded, and you could see whatever it was he was thinking practically swirling in his eyes, because Stiles’ emotions were open to read like a book.

“It’s terrifying. It’s, like, what the hell are we supposed to do when we finish?”

“I don’t know.” Your head dropped to your hands, fingers soothingly rubbing at your temples. A large hand landed on your back, rubbing in comforting circles. “What I do know, though, is that if I don’t get on with coming up with some more content, I’m never gonna’ finish this study in time.”

“Well, put your headphones on and come up with some questions.”

You did as told, plugging your earbuds in and choosing some classical music that would make it easier to concentrate. Opening one of your survey works back up to the page you’d left off at, your eyes began to flicker over the pages, picking out the useful information. Once you had a list built, you had a foundation to work from, questions to create and organise into groups, different sessions being able to come together.

Beside you, Stiles’ hand never seemed to stop rising, a constant dialogue with your tutor as he checked his work and ironed out any kinks in his study. He was also full of chatter and laughter, getting along with everyone around him and asking about their works, making you turn your music up several times just to be able to concentrate. But, by the end of the session, when Stiles was tugging your earbud out and telling you your class was over, you had a solid three pages worth of questions that had been split up into sessions, and ready to be worked through.

“Pack up and get ready to go. I have plans to get ready for.”

Stiles already had his bag in his arms, notebook tucked inside and pens and pencils put away, two empty coffee cups and a muffin wrapper sitting out, which he quickly gathered up, once his bag was on his shoulder. He was gone, walking past you and down to the waste bin at the front of the hall to dispose of them, his fingers tapping idly on his thigh once he was done.

You gathered your belongings, packing them away and curling the wire of your headphones back up neatly, making sure everything had its correct place in your bag, before following him down and out of the steps.

The halls were filled once again, the two of you navigating through crowds to the outside of the building, and you followed him in his diversion across the pathway, all the way to his car. Some students had already left, spaces beginning to empty out as a bottleneck effect took place at the only entrance and exit to this carpark.

“Where’s your car?” The dirty blue jeep was one of the only ones left in the parking lot, Stiles looking around for your vehicle, and you sighed.

“Don’t get me started on that hunk of junk.” You growled, stomping a foot on the floor as Stiles laughed. Opening the driver’s side door, he hopped up inside of it, legs dangling from the chair. “I’m trying not to use it as much. It splutters when it starts up and I have to try it a whole bunch of times, so the less I use it, the closer to graduation we can get before it eventually taps out.”

“You ever think about just getting it fixed?”

“Oh, big words from the man whose engine is held together with duct tape.” Your hand rubbed over the hood of the car, a slightly dusty layer that made you cringe, and you wiped your hand off on your jacket to stop it.

“Touché.” Stiles only smirked. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride to my place. I’ll be waiting for hours if you walk.”

He slammed his car door once his legs were inside, leaning over the centre console to pop open the passenger side door as you rounded the car, and he was sparking up the car before you were even fully inside. Slamming it shut, he was reversing from his spot as you clipped in your safety belt, swinging his car around, and you gripped onto the edge of the door. “Easy there, fast and furious.”

“Oh, relax. Nobody is around.”

“Except for me, and I’d like to live until graduation.” His eyes rolled, hitting the brakes and flicking on the indicators as he was leaving the parking lot, moving out onto the main roads. There weren’t so many other cars, the mid-afternoon meaning the other students were mostly in class, in bed, or eating their lunch. College was a weird time, and while you’d loved it, you couldn't wait to regain some kind of normality. “Can we swing by my place? I need to swap out my books. I don’t want to carry all these around.”

“Okay, but be quick! I have to be ready by six and out the door by six-thirty. Derek will kill me if I’m late for this.” His fingers were tapping on the steering wheel as he changed direction to head to your place instead of his own. The space between you both was filled with the radio, the simple tunes of classic 70s anthems, the songs Stiles had grown up with, his dad’s favourite records and he played them constantly. He knew all the words, mouthing along and banging his head, pausing occasionally to check the mirrors and the roads between dancing in his seat.

Rolling the window down as he slowed in his approach to the building, afresh air swept into the carbon of the car, the slightly musty smell of the older car was something you’d miss when it was gone. The shade of the concrete cover overhead was chillier than the sunny roads, and he swung himself haphazardly into a parking space.

“I’ll turn the car around and wait here, cool?”

“I won’t take long, promise!” Hopping from the car and closing the door, you leant on the open door frame, and Stiles slouched in his seat, as he usually did. “Lydia and Ally should both be out, so there’s nobody for me to even talk to.”

“Good, because you’re chatty.” He teased, and you flipped him off, a quick walk as you headed away from him to the stairs. Once you were there, you were taking a quick jog up the sets of stairs, headed for your floor, and balancing your books in your arms carefully. Rooting through your bag to find your keys, they were at the bottom, jingling tantalisingly for you to find.

Leaving your books on the countertop of the kitchen, you shifted through them, taking the notebook you needed and leaving the rest, piling them back up and taking them to your bedroom Abandoned on the desk, you rushed to change, throwing on a bigger and warmer jumper to get through the rest of the day, phone in your pocket and a bag on your arm. Passing back through the kitchen, you were ready to grab the notebook and bag you’d left there, keys hanging in the back of the door, and you eyed the freezer.

You’d made a bet, a point to prove, and you were certain that buried somewhere deep in the bottom, you had a frozen lasagne from the last time you’d made it for Allison and Lydia. You had a few spare moments, and so you moved over to the freezer, opening the door and crouching to scan over all the shelves.

Running your fingers over frozen plastic, you searched for the right one. Tinfoil crinkling in the back, behind a bag of dinosaur chicken nuggets and a tray of alcoholic ice cubes, was a tray of lasagne. Pulling it out, the cold chilled your arm, even through the layers of your hoodie, and you used your foot to close the freezer while wrapping the tray in the nearest tea towel for an extra layer.

Placing your notebook over it and holding it in both arms for security, you clicked the latch onto the door, keys in your pocket and bag on your shoulder to let it swing closed behind you.

Stiles saw you coming, his head snapping over to the metal door between the stairwell and the parking lot when it fell open, backing through it and his brows raised. Opening up the passenger side door, he took the lasagne from you when you handed it over, climbing back into the vehicle.

“This is cold. What is it?”

“Lasagne.” You settled it onto your lap once your safety belt was on, folding the towel underneath to keep your lap from getting chilled and painful, and he nodded. The engine was still running, and taking off the brakes, he was pulling out of the space again.

“So, not that I don’t love a home-cooked meal, but I’m going out for dinner. Why the traybake?”

“I have a point to prove to Noah.” You were looking out of the window, but you could feel his gaze on you, making you a little uncomfortable, and you turned to face him. His eyes were flicking between you and the road, brows furrowed, a stare like he was trying to figure you out, before he let it go. “He told me I looked like I couldn't cook, and it’s a battle I’m going to win.”

“Well, alright then. Save me leftovers?”

“We’ll see.” You winked, and he grinned, eyes flicking to the tray in your lap, before back to the road.

It was only a short journey, the distance between your place and Stiles’ building was short for a walk and even shorter in a car, on the edges of campus and conveniently placed, and it had been one of the building blocks of your friendship with him An easily accessible study partner, somewhere to hang out with, someone to walk home with you after a night out, someone to share a cab with, or simply knowing there was a friend so close to you.

“It’s going to be weird not living around the corner from you in just a few months.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He sighed, pulling into his one building sparking area and it didn’t have the luxury of being covered or underground, it was exposed each flat having allocated parking spaces, and Noah’s bike was parked underneath the shelter, you could see it from here, with a clamp around the wheel and covered from the impending and risky weather of the early months. “I have a feeling that you’ll end up living next door to me someday.”

“You do?”

He parked the car, arm behind your head as he reversed into it, ready to make a quick getaway on the next morning, or this evening, when he would invariably be late. In true Stiles Stilinski style. “Yeah. Especially after I rock whatever gown you want me to wear for being your maid of honour, someday.”

“Lydia is going to fight you for that role.”

“I will fistfight her for it.” He challenged, and you grinned, clambering down from the car as Stiles had parked a little too close to someone else on your side. With your bag on your shoulder and lasagne in one hand, you tried to squeeze around the door without scratching someone else’s paintwork.

Stiles’ arm was slung over your shoulder as you set off toward the building, the elevator being fully functional, and it was a refreshing change not need to take the stairs up to your place, or risk your life in a rickety elevator.

Throwing his keys down on the kitchen counter, they slid all the way across and to the other side, hitting the floor, and he grimaced when you turned to stare at him. “I’ll pick those up later.”

“Uh-huh.” The sounds of video games and music were coming from behind Noah’s door, though it wasn’t fully closed, only pushed halfway, and you hoped that was a sign that he was still in a good mood. Leaving your bag on the edge of the couch that was facing away from you, your hands rubbed together, glancing around at the environment you were still getting used to. “You should put this lasagne in now, so that it’s ready for after the study. Medium heat, leave the full-on tight.”

“Where are you going?”

“To say ‘hey’ to your brother.” Stiles’ face scrunched up, a mumble of ‘good luck’ as he picked up the tray, lifting it over his head to look in at it from underneath. Wandering toward the sounds coming from the hall, you knocked on the edge of the door, pushing it open a second later when you heard the game pause, and the music following it. Leaning on the doorframe, Noah turned to face you, brows raising slightly, and he shifted in his chair. “Hey.”

“Hi. It’s, uh, time for the study stuff, then?”

“Yeah. You okay?” He shrugged, turning back to his game and closing it off, leaning forwards from where he was sat on his bed enough to turn the console off.

“I didn’t realise we’d be doing it here. It feels more personal, somehow.” He had a large hoodie on, comfortable in his own clothes as he wore a baggy and warm outfit, the same way you often had when everything started to feel overwhelming.

“Well, this study is going to get pretty personal.”

“I know that. It’s just that right now, it feels a bit like I’m naked, y’know?” You chuckled, a momentary smile on his face flashing past, and you were glad to see it. “I just feel exposed.”

“This study is gonna’ do that, but I promise that I’ll try and make it as easy as I can. I’ll break it up, I’ll make it comfortable for you, and we’ll stop whenever you’re getting overwhelmed.”

“That’d be great, actually.” His hands rubbed together, sleeves hanging slightly down over his palms, and he looked a whole lot less terrifying right now than he did with the armour of a bike and a leather jacket. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Good, because I need you in high spirits. I brought a lasagne and I have a point to prove.”

You backed out of the room as he advanced toward you, the door closing and leaving you both standing in the hall, and he smirked down at you a little, a disbelieving expression. “You really brought that?”

“You bet I did. It’ll be ready by the time we finish.”

“Then I guess we’d better get started, huh?” He hopped over the back of the couch, settling in beside his brother, who scowled at him as his drink spilt down his shirt from the impact. Taking a seat on the other side of them both, your legs folded underneath yourself in the armchair, finding a glass of water laid out for yourself on the table, courtesy of Stiles.

They looked so different and yet so similar in this moment. You could understand how people may have confused the two of them before their styles became so radically different. In the beginning, before Noah turned to leather and a sleeve tattoo, when they both wore hoodies and band tees and had clean pale skin. With the sleeve of tattoos covered, and the pair both wearing hoodies, one with an etching across the front and the other with a faded logo from being washed one too many times,

Laying out your books, it was more of a note you’d keep to yourself, and following from that was your recorder, coated in the front pocket of your bag so as not to get crushed. Switching it on at the side, the red light flashed on to green blinking once to let you know it was active. “Can you guys do your confirmations for me while I get set up?”

“Surely can.” Stiles sat forwards, leaning down a little with his forearms braced across his knees, as opposed to Noah, who slumped back into the cushion. “Stiles Stilinski, happy to be recorded.”

“Noah Stilinski, aware of being recorded.” Stiles rolled his eyes at his brother’s dead tone, clearly not having as much fun as Stiles was, but you didn’t blame him.

“Okay, so, why don’t you guys tell me what it’s like to live together at college.” There was a beat of silence, and then a set of matching laughs from both of them, the two starting at one another. There was a look between them, one you didn’t quite understand, and it seemed like some kind of twin-telepathy communication.

“It’s, like, exactly the same as when we were in high school.”

“Uh, what?” Stiles interjected, and Noah turned to look at him. “It’s nothing like high school!”

“Yes, it is!” Noah insisted, and you smirked, picking up your water and taking a sip as the two stared in shock at one another. “We lived together in high school, we played video games, I did all the cooking and you did all the cleaning while dad was at work. The only thing that is different is that we can’t cheat from one another’s homework anymore.”

“We don’t drive to school together anymore, we’re on opposite sides of campus!”

“That so doesn’t count.” Noah scoffed, and Stiles twisted on the couch, his hand gestures much more emphasised than that of his brother’s and you watched the debate go down. “You can’t name any more than that.”

“I take that as a challenge.” Stiles’ head rolled side to side. “Our schedules don’t match up anymore, and we haven’t had our usual movie nights in almost six months now. I can’t bring Derek over because your room is right across from mine-”

“My room was across the hall from you at home. You just didn’t date in high school or have anyone to bring home.”

“Low-blow. Unlike some people, I didn’t want to traumatise my brother in high school by bringing someone home, for that.” Stiles reached out mid-sentence, swatting at his brother’s shoulder, before continuing; “Uh, let's see. Oh! We don’t talk anymore, you didn’t ride your motorbike so much at home, you used to ride in the jeep with me. It’s like a totally different world now.”

“I didn’t know you felt like that.” There was a palpable kind of feeling in the air, something between them that was sizzling with electricity, before Stiles sighed.

“It’s no big deal. The difference is just that we’re both so busy now.”

“That was really good, actually. Thanks.” The two seemed to have forgotten you were there, both flinching and turning to face you again, matching sets of honey-coloured eyes in varying shades were fixing on you again. “Speaking of what you said, though, does it ever make it hard for you guys when your class times are so different?”

“Hard to do what?” Stiles squinted at you, face set in a frown that his twin normally wore.

“Hard to hang out, talk, have that whole brotherly bond going on.” Your clarification did little for Stiles, his brows still pulled tight and frown never moving, but Noah’s face smoothed out.

“Oh.. well, I g-”

“Totally.” Noah pressed, and once again, Stiles’ head whipped around to look at his brother. “Don’t look at me like that. You basically said it, anyway. We don’t talk so much anymore. We barely know each other. You don’t even tell me about your podcast, anymore.”

“You never listened!”

“You used to tell me your problems, not broadcast them to the world with jokes and humour! I missed two episodes, and you just stopped keeping me updated on it.” The moodier twin crossed his arms over his chest, and you swallowed thickly at the environment you had unwittingly created. “I don’t know. Just feels like we used to talk a lot more.”

They both went silent, and Noah shot you a pleading look, but there was something darker behind it. It almost felt venomous, angry or defensive, as though to say ‘I told you so’ about it being more personal now that they were home. Stiles was occupying himself with pulling a loose thread on their couch cushion out and making it that much worse, distracting himself from it all. “Well, how about something a little bit lighter. Just some questions about hobbies. Stiles, what inspired you to first start a podcast?”

“Well, as you know, I never stop talking.” He smirked, Noah laughing beside him, and just like that, the awkward air between them both was completely evaporated. “I had a lot to say, I had a lot to get off of my mind. At first, it was just to get my thoughts out there. It was kind of like a recorded journey for myself, and to share with my friends from back home. But, then other people started listening. I thought it was going to be the end of my college social life, a social life that I was developing for the first time ever, and they liked it. I was just talking into a mic and getting things off of my chest, making no sense while telling stories and bitching about my homework and suddenly I had friends. It got a whole lot of followers and I made new friends,”

He paused, offering you a wink for the comment, and you beamed.

“-and I was going to parties, I met my boyfriend at a pep rally, and everything just kinda.. blossomed. The more I got out of it, the more inspired I was to keep going. I ended up making multiple videos a week, all differently themed. Sometimes movie reviews, sometimes songs, sometimes just talking. That’s how ‘Mischief Mic’ was born.”

“Alright. That was awesome.” Stiles bowed as best he could from sitting on the couch, and reached over to take a sip of his drink. “Okay, Noah, have you got any hobbies that you didn’t have in high school that you found when you came to college.”

“Not really.”

“Not even one?” You pushed, and the arms folded over his chest tightened, his gaze going to the floor, socked toes pushing into the twist cable rug. He took his glass, swigging all of it, the water draining from the glass in nervousness, and you could hear the crickets inside your mind chirping to fill the silence that had formed.

“No. Not really. I’m going to get more water, feel free to continue.”

“Uh, okay.” You pressed your pen down into your paper, drawing a line through the question on your paper as you realised you’d have no answer to that question when you listened back on the tape at a later time. “Stiles, back to you, then.”

Your next question came, and went, and Stiles was more than happy to answer them. Occasionally, Noah would answer a question, you’d be able to pin him down long enough to get a straight answer out of him, but there seemed to always be something that he needed to mess with, or fix. Almost half of your questions for him had a line drawn through, and you would have to ask them another time, and get a whole extra session in without Stiles, dragging the study out.

It was going to take you twice as long to get through it all if every time you had to ask them separately, and had to spend your time trying to force him to sit and answer. You were missing half of the information that you needed to be able to compare to Stiles’ answers, you couldn’t answer without them.

The clock ticked by, leaving you with all of your questions for Stiles answered. On a blank page, while Noah had once again been tinkering with something in the kitchen, you’d rewritten up all over the crossed out questions that would still need answers. You had doodled on the corner again, waiting for him to come and sit back down, a collection of hearts and flowers, the occasional bee or ladybug, even a couple of misshaped stars, forming a banner across the top of the page.

When he finally came to sit back down, he huffed, eyes moving to the clock as though he was waiting for this to end just as much as Stiles was, and you gave up.

“Okay, how about we just finish this up?” You had reached the end of your tether, not even bothering with the rest of the questions that were written down for him. “We got almost two hours in, that’s perfect.”

Noah sighed, something like an apology in his look as your eyes met his and he shrugged lightly. Stiles only nodded, eyes flicking up to the clock on the wall, and he was grinning when he came back. Tearing a page out of your notebook for each of them, you passed it over, blank paper sitting before them, and you searched for a pen or pencil in the bottom of your bag for each of them. Placing your pen down before Stiles and a pencil in front of Noah, they both leaned forwards, picking them up. Switching off your recorder and packing it away, you were left with the two staring at you expectantly.

“Okay, Stiles, come fill yours out in the kitchen. You can’t discuss these ones.”

“Oh, some mystery. I like that.” He picked up his paper and pencil, heading over to the kitchen counter, folding the sheet in half as he did, and you nodded. Standing from your place behind the coffee table, your bag slumped a little more from where it had been propped against your leg.

“Okay, I want you both to try self-diagnosing yourself.” Stiles gasped, a little excitement lacing it, and his pencil was already moving over the paper. Noah, however, looked a little lost, looking to you for guidance. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to use professional terms, just, describe what you think, I’ll be able to figure it out, and if I can’t, I’ll ask you about it at some point.”

He nodded, pausing, not quite as eager to get into the activity as Stiles was, before the pencil finally met the paper, and the slow scratching of graphite over paper filled the silence.

Moving away to the kitchen, you searched for plates, and a dish, laying them out on the counter before moving to the oven. A wave of hot air into your face once you pulled the door open, and when it cleared, you search for the kitchen towel you’d brought with you. Wrapping it carefully around the edges of the tray inside, you pulled it out, resting it atop the oven and closing the door back up.

Flicking off the handles, the light inside went dead, and Stiles loomed up behind you. “Smells good!” He presented a piece of paper to you, your eyes flicking over what he’d written once you’d taken it from him, and everything that he’d written about himself seemed completely accurate. It wasn’t a surprising self-evaluation, Stiles had spent almost four years studying this, just like you had, and so it was bound to be accurate and professional. Even if his handwriting looked a little bit like chicken-scratch.

Noah was still working on his, and Stiles was picking at the edges of the tinfoil, trying not to touch the glass of the casserole dish and burn himself, and as soon as he had some foil pinched between his fingers, he was pulling it back. “Wait, Stiles, watch out for the-”

“Fucking steam! Oh, my God, that’s so fucking hot!”

His hand snapped back, half unpeeled as all the steam from inside clouded in the air, and his hand was clutched to his chest. He was glaring at the pot, before moving away and running his hands underneath the cold tap at the sink, his thumb rubbing over wet skin to soothe it.

A second later, Noah was appearing, placing his paper face down on top of Stiles, which now lay on the kitchen counter. “Well, now that I’ve been scalded by pasta, I’m going to go shower and get ready.”

“M’kay.” He backed away, and Noah leaned on the counter beside you.

“Looks good, but does it taste any good, is the question.” The twin you were left with was teasing you, your eyes finding him, and you raised a brow.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get me something to serve it up with, alright?”

He smirked, pulling open the drawer behind him and searching for a serving spoon. Slicing it into pieces, you dished it up for him, a large slab on a plate, still steaming with cheese that had only just stopped bubbling. He grabbed a fork, and one for you too, waiting patiently as you served yourself, and put whatever was left into a dish for Stiles, covering it back up and leaving it to cool.

“Okay, prepare for the best lasagne of your life.”

Picking up the papers and your plate, the two of you moved back to the couch, sitting opposite one another, and you waited with excitement. Taking a piece off of his plate with the edge of his fork, he raised it, blowing cold air over it for a few moments, before taking the bite. There was a tense few moments, while he chewed, face unreadable, before he was swallowing the mouthful.

“Well?”

You couldn’t take the anticipation any longer, a smile on his face at the desperation you showed for his answer, and he gave in. “Alright, alright. This may actually be the best lasagne I have ever had.”

“Yes!” Your hands went up in the air, cheering excitedly and he laughed at your reaction, holding his hand up when you forced him to, palms slamming together in a high-five. He was tucking in again, and you reached for your plate, excited for the meal you had made, Taking a large piece on the tip of your fork, you tucked in.

The sound of Stiles’ shower was running in the background, and he was singing loudly, a song that you were certain was a TV show intro but you’d never seen the show, and there was a chance it was something from Disney Channel. Picking up the pieces of paper again, you turned Noah’s around to face you.

You’d had an expectation, you knew what you thought he was going to write down, and yet you were somehow surprised and entirely not surprised at the same time. It was what you expected but with a twist. He had confidence in what he’d written about himself he was sure of it, and while there were definitely elements that you’d disagree with, there was a lot of truth to it, and you frowned, reading it again.

Noah was watching you do so, the scrape of forks over plates as the lull in chatter came back, and you place the two pieces of paper into the front of your notebook, making sure that it was all sealed tightly away. “Is it alright?”

“It’s just not what I expected from you. But, it’s perfect.”

“That feels like a backhanded compliment.” He smiled softly, but he looked nervous, and you shook your head.

“Not at all, it just means that you have a better grasp on this whole thing than I thought you did.” It was the truth, and while you didn’t want to reveal so much to him about it all without compromising your work, but it made sense. “It just feels like with the way today went, like you weren’t really so interested in it, so I didn’t expect such an accurate self-diagnosis from you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighed, pushing what was left of his food around the plate, and you copied him, appetite dwindling. “It’s just that when you’re here, in my apartment, and you’re asking questions about what changed and making me confront everything, it feels like real therapy. You said it was going to be casual, and this didn’t feel casual.”

“I get it. I really do, and it’s okay. I can just email you the questions you didn’t answer, and you can get around to them whenever you feel up to it, alright?” He nodded, shaking off the evening’s stress. He continued to eat, polishing off the meal that was laid out before him and settling his hands over his stomach once he was finished. There was a satisfied smile on his face, and your empty plate was soon stacking on top of his own. Leaning forwards a little, you caught Noah’s eye, and one of his brows arched up. “I can try to make it more informal, in the future.”

“That would be great, actually.”

You smiled, the consolidation made between the two of you, and your ears picked up on another sound. “Hold on, is Stiles blow-drying his hair?”

“Oh, yeah.” He laughed, head turning to the closed bathroom door where his brother resided. “He thinks it makes his hair fluffy.”

“He gels his hair, though! Why does it matter if it’s fluffy?”

“He’s insane. Don’t you know this, yet?” Noah scoffed, and your giggles carried you back into the rest of the chair as you settled back into it. The evening was still waiting to come in fully. Comfortable quiet fell between you both again, and Noah moved away to take the plates to the kitchen. He left them in the sink, water running to wash them up, before storing Stiles’ lasagne in the fridge.

The aforementioned boy moved from the bathroom to his bedroom, skidding on the floors a little and clutching the towel to his waist as he hurried, making himself late with the extra-long shower and the blowdrying of his hair. Noah was washing up the plates, leaving them to dry on the draining rack, and you took that as your cue. The night was over, that much was clear, and you’d be willing to bet that he was more than eager to get back to his alone time.

Taking your bag and double-checking that you had everything, you swung it up onto your shoulder, and made your way toward the door. Hearing the shuffling of your feet, Noah turned, drying his hands on the towel beside him. “Are you going?”

“Feels like I should. Stiles will be going soon, anyway. I’m sure you have things to do, too.”

“I don’t have anything to do, if I’m being honest.” He cringed at his own words, pulling down the rolled-up sleeves of his hoodie and making his way over to you. Undoing the catch on the door, he pulled it open, leaning against it and you linseed in the doorway.

“Since you’re not doing anything, do you wanna’ get a coffee with me?”

His eyes narrowed, just for a second, and his fingers tapped anxiously on the wood of the door. “As a study subject, or..?”

“As friends.” You confirmed, his lips a thin line for only a second, before pulling up at the sides in a smile.

“Then, yeah. I’d like that.” He looked down, sweatpants and mismatching socks on his lower half, and there was a tint on his cheeks when he looked up. “Just give me two seconds to go change, alright?”

He darted away before you had a chance to reply leaving you there with the words frozen in your throat. Stiles was clattering around behind his own door, and Noah’s door slammed shut, leaving you alone in the doorway. Your hands tapped against your thighs as you waited, bag swinging on your shoulder, and only a second later, one of the doors was opening.

To your surprise, it was Stiles, flapping the flannel on his body to shake out any creases, and he stood before you. Doing a little twirl from where he stood, he began to button it up down his front, looking somewhat smart. It was a nice black and white one, no rips or tears or stains like most of his other ones, and the black stood out prominently against the white, thick patterns with flecks of grey within it.

“How do I look, then?”

“You look great, Sti. I’ve never seen you wear anything so plain before. There’s no colour.”

“Yeah, well, this is a new flannel. It’s my best one, and the skinny jeans are Noah’s. All my skinny jeans are blue or red, it was this or khakis.” He was nervous, resisting the urge to mess with his freshly-styled hair. “The place we’re going to is kinda fancy, but I don’t feel fancy enough for it. I’m gonna’ do something stupid like drop my glass and smash it or make a joke about something dumb.”

“Haven’t you met his family before?” You teased, and he huffed, searching for his keys, and finding them under the counter where he’d never bothered to pick them up from.

“No, not really. I’ve met his mom because she comes to visit a lot, and of course, his little sister, because she’s a sophomore here. But, he has a lot of family. His extended family are coming to graduation, but this is his older sister and his dad, and his uncle, and I’ve never met them before.” His keys were tucked into his back pocket, and his phone followed, your gaze moving over him.

“You got a blazer, Stiles?”

“Uh, yeah. One that my dad made me promise to bring, I wore it to my senior prom.” He shrugged, hands smoothing over his front. “You think I should wear it?”

“Go get it, show me.” He nodded, moving back to his bedroom, and you were waiting for something with orange and blue stripes to come back out, which wouldn’t surprise you. In fact, you’d always imagined Stiles going to his senior prom in a Beetlejuice suit. Noah emerged from the other side of the hall, hangers scraping over their post in a wardrobe as Stiles searched for them. “Did Stiles go to prom in a Beetlejuice suit?”

Noah paused, rolling the edges of his hoodie up, charcoal grey skinny jeans that were only a  few shades lighter than the ones Stiles had stolen from him on his legs, and a pair of his usual scuffled boots. “What?”

He was laughing, loudly, shaking his head to hide his grin. “It’s a legitimate question! I have this mental image of it!”

“Unfortunately, he did not. My dad made us both go in three-piece formal suits. He saved up to have them custom made. Said that every man should have a smart suit.” He shrugged, crouching to start tying the laces on his shoes and Stiles reappeared. Over his shoulders was a dark black suit, crisp collar and pressed edges, and it was a beautiful piece of tailoring.

“You look good, Sti. Very smart, but casual. Like a polished version of your usual self.”

“Yeah? Good enough to meet Derek’s family?” His voice shook, and you wished you could ease him more.

“Totally. You look great.” He thanked you both, and Noah grabbed his wallet from the side, and his house keys, letting them both hang in the front pocket of an oversized hoodie.

“You ready to go?” He offered, hand on the top of the door, and Stiles’ head snapped up again from where he’d been checking his phone, presumably looking for texts from Derek.

“Where are you two going?”

“We’re getting coffee!” You beamed, and Noah nodded, stepping a little further out of the door with you.

“Oh, well, have fun. I’ll text you updates about how it goes. I might need bathroom-break pep-talk during the night.” You waved to him as you went, wishing him ‘good luck’, before the two of you were wandering down the halls. Thumbing the button for the elevator, the doors popped open, and you were stepping inside along with Noah.

“So, you wanna’ show off those new small talk skills to me, then?”

“Okay, okay. Let me think of something.” He hummed under his breath, glancing up to the top of the elevator and looking around at the posters on the walls for inspiration, and he seemed to find one. Turning his attention quickly back to you, you prepared for what he’d found. “Have you listened to any of the student bands? There’s been a lot of them growing, lately.”

“I’ve noticed that, actually.” There were several posters up around the inside of the elevator, different coloured flyers, some on shiny paper and some on smooth matte, varying fonts and designs, it was dizzying. “I haven’t, I’ve never been to see a student band. I should do that before I graduate, though. Have you?”

“I’ve been to a couple.” The door clicked open, the two of you stepping through it. Out into the setting chill of the evening that was threatening to break its way in. He chose the direction you’d be going in, heading toward the coffee shop on the side of campus that had been the first the two of you had met at when beginning the study. “Some of them are good, some of them are kinda’ average. They usually play at the bars on the edges of campus or in the places in the city, the less well-known, kinda’ alternative places. They can be fun.”

“You going out optionally to a night on the town? I’m shocked.”

“Uh, no!” He protested, grinning at you. “I’ve never been for a ‘night on the town’, and I never will. However, going to one of the few small bars around here that aren’t practically a nightclub, to listen to covers of good songs and get a pint without worrying about anyone bothering me or mistaking me for my brother, that’s nice.”

“Okay, well, maybe I’ll go to one sometime.”

“You should, I think you’d have fun.” The two of you weaved between other students, the small talk keeping up between you both as he did his best, and while it was sometimes a little stuttered and stalled, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you had expected. It wasn’t until the two of you had entered the coffee shop that he fell into tight silence again. The crowds, the rush of chatter from other groups gathered around the tables, and the friendly greetings of baristas whose chit-chat diverted to him due to his allegiance with you.

“What are you drinking? My treat.”

“Uh, just a black coffee.” He choked out, eyes flicking over all the boards, so many options up there, and you chuckled.

“Really, just a black coffee?”

“I’ve never really experimented. I just ordered whatever was the quickest and the easiest.” He confessed, already glancing back over his shoulder at the queue that was forming behind you both. “What would you recommend?”

“Hm, well, do you have a sweet tooth?” He only nodded, scratching around his cuticles on one hand and staring down at the flesh growing red, and you took his hand. Lowering it back down to his side, the hand formed a fist, flexed nervously, and you let it go, squeezing comfortingly first. Turning to the barista, she was still waiting patiently, and your eyes moved over the boards overhead. “Two mint and dark chocolate hot cocoas.”

“That sounds really good, actually.” He leaned down, mumbling the words into your ear to make sure you heard the quiet tone over the talk in the small coffee house.

“And, two croissants, too.” She rang it up on the machine, and you leaned in a little closer to her. “Do you have any of the warm and fresh ones straight from the oven?”

“We made a fresh batch about twenty minutes ago, they’re cooling. I’ll get them from the back for you.” She finished it with a wink, passing the card machine over to you once you’d produced your card from your wallet. Swiping it across the reader, you moved to the end of the line, and she moved away to begin preparing your order as someone else took over at the counter.

She was working, creating two beautifully constructed hot chocolates for you both. Placing them down on the counter before you, once they were garnished with chocolate sauce and whipped cream, she disappeared into the back room. Taking one of the ceramic plates with her, you were happy to see her bypass the glass cabinet with the older ones in, and only a moment later, she was coming back. Two fresh croissants on a plate, still warm and soft to the touch, and she handed those over as well.

Noah had been scouting for a place to sit, choosing which was the best one, and he carried both of the drinks while you carried the pastries, guiding you to the seat he’d chosen. It was tucked away in the back, a small loveseat sofa with a low sitting coffee table in front of it, and as soon as the paper cups were down on the surface of the table, he was dropping down into the seat.

“It feels like rush hour on the highway, but with coffee.” He mumbled, and you settled onto the couch beside him passing him his drink over, and he stared at it curiously. “What about the whipped cream. Do I eat that first? Scrape it off? Mix it in?”

“Any of the above.” You grinned, taking a wooden stirrer from the condiments tray in the middle and beginning to stir the cream into your hot chocolate. He placed it down, copying your actions, stirring slowly and trying not to spill any over the edges, but it was an impossible feat to achieve. Sticky droplets left over the edges of your cups and his, creating rings on the table that you had to mop up with tissues. “Okay, try it. This is one of my favourite orders here. It’s bitter because of the dark chocolate, but also sweet. Reminds me of you.”

“Now, that one is a backhanded compliment.” He muttered, taking a sip of the drink, and your lips rubbed together.

“Not everything is a backhanded statement, you know. I didn’t intend for it to be mean, it’s just the truth. You’re all dark and moody, but I can already tell you’re sweet on the inside.” You sipped your drink to finish your statement, and he filled the time where he didn’t know what else to say by pulling a chunk off of his croissant. Chewing on it idly, he settled back into the cushions, and you lifted your legs up to fold underneath yourself as you turned to face him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve already asked me a lot of questions today.”

“You didn’t answer many, though. You kinda’ have to give me this one.” He scowled falsely, but nodded, licking a flake of pastry from his lower lip. “Not that I think you need it, because personally, I think you’re just fine, but why are you so scared about therapy? The idea of it, anything to do with it, it makes you so closed off. Even more than usual.”

His eyes moved over the room, nervously, before scanning both you and the table, and you put your drink down, holding open palms up to him.

“No recorder, no study. I’m just curious.”

“Okay.” He sighed shakily, and slumped back. “Well, after my mom died, my dad made me and Stiles have therapy when we started acting out. We had a therapist who came to the house, and she was great, don’t get me wrong, but I hated it. I didn’t want her to tell me how to grieve or mourn, and I didn’t want her to tell me how to move on. Stiles needed all the advice he could get, but I didn’t want it. I wanted to do it my own way. Now, the idea of therapy, brings back all those feelings of sadness and pressure and stress.”

“I’m sorry, Noah.” You reached out, rubbing a hand over his shoulder, and his gaze fell to the contact. “Genuine sympathy and sorrow, not just that thing girls do that you hate.”

“Stop hanging things I’ve said over me, I don’t remember half of them. I blackout in social situations.” He grinned, moving past the moment, and you withdrew your touch.

“You know, if it makes you feel any better, I understand the nervousness of being in a study.”

“Yeah?” He picked up the rest of his croissant, a large chunk of it being eaten, as he waited for you.

“Yeah. When I moved here, I was so nervous. I was beginning to take my course and I didn’t really have any friends, and there was a senior who needed freshmen for her study.” Noah grinned, settling in for the story and sipping his drink. “She was doing a study about the difference between kids who travelled far from home for college alone as opposed to those who were still close to home, and whether it impacted social clubs, grades, all that. To be fair, it was an awesome study.”

“It sounds like it.”

You smiled, swirling the cup in your hands to gather any loose powder that may have begun to separate and gather at the bottom. “Well, I got drawn into it. She was a senior, and she was nice. I had no friends yet, I was in a flat-share with Allison and Lydia and three other girls who were all too busy getting adjusted to college themselves. So, this senior, she invited me to a party, and then another one, and suddenly people started wanting to be my friend because I was the freshman who hung out with seniors. I figured it would all drop away when her study ended and she didn’t need me anymore, but by then the whole social hierarchy had done its thing, and there I was.”

You shrugged, and Noah was hiding a shit-eating grin behind his mug. “So, you were just a little freshman lab rat, then?”

You scoffed, your laughter mixing with his, and the two of you were left in subtle amusement. His laughter was cut short, though, brought a rapid halt when a set of legs bumped against your table on the other side, followed by two more behind them.

“Hey, girl!” One of the girls on the cheer team, a lacrosse player behind her and a girl who you recognised from your psychology class texting on her phone. “Saw you over here, wanted to know what your plans for the evening were. We’re going to do some karaoke and get some food, you wanna’ come?”

Your eyes moved to Noah, whose attention was fixed on the floor again, as though the splintering wood was of utmost interest. “Maybe another time. I think we’re good here for now.”

“Oh, you sure? I think it could be super fun, you should both come.” The invitation was now extended to you both, and you shook your head at her despite it.

“Seriously, you should go, if you want to,” Noah whispered, and when you turned back to him now, he’d dared to look up, chewing on a lower lip that would go raw, but he met your gaze.

“No, I’m sure. I’m having fun here.” You held his gaze for a second longer, before turning to her, and confirming your denial, and she smiled, promising to make plans with you soon, before she was walking away. Noah was fidgeting beside you, shuffling in his seat, and you could practically feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves. “I’m serious, Noah. I’m having fun, and I’m perfectly happy here with you, right now.”

He was trying not to grin, a smile that was being bitten back on the inside of his cheek. “Well, for the record, I’m having fun too.”

“What was that?” You cupped your ear, challenging him to repeat it, even though you had heard it perfectly, and by the look on his face, he knew the game you were playing.

“I said I’m having fun. I won’t deny it.”

“Two victories in one day, for this gal. I’m breaking down all your walls, Noah Stilinski.” You poked at his cheek, and he swatted your hand away, taking a bite from your croissant as punishment, and you tried to snatch it back from him.

“Two victories, one loss. You’re not getting this croissant back, now.”

[dylsexual]

You're nervous, aren't you? You know they're coming.

[dylanholyhellobrien]

You can’t kill me.

[heartifilias]

Are you threatening us?

[impractical-matters]

Void/Nogitsune Aesthetic (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7/?) For Void Month - @writingsbychlo​

Let the spark of your spirit, Light the fire in your eyes.                                       -Unknown

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

Don't go 'round tonight It's bound to take your life There's a bad moon on the rise...  

-

Little video edit I made for Void Month... @writingsbychlo