Dylan O'Brien Imagines

Home (Part 6) // Stiles Stilinski

The heels of your boots made the slightest of clicks as you walked into your new favorite café. Ordering your usual, you smiled as the barista already had it made for you, seeing as you have a daily routine of visiting the same time every day. You paid for your beverage, insisting that she keep the change before walking to a small table in the corner and pulling out your laptop. You checked its battery before diving into a recent story you had been working on. Another thing you have discovered since moving was your passion for writing. Fiction, non-fiction, fantasy, mystery, you name it.

Sparing a spontaneous glance out the window beside you, your fingers paused above your keyboard at the sight. Two teenagers sat on a bench under the sun, laughing as they poked each other playfully and messed around. You allowed the smallest of smiles to grow on your lips as one leaned in to kiss the other on the nose. Pure love and adoration shone in their eyes as they continued to converse with one another. Love. You had almost forgotten what that felt like.

It had been almost three years since you last walked into Beacon Hills. It had been almost three years since you saw the last group of friends who made you really embrace life. It had been almost three years since you last saw Stiles Stilinski, or at least what was left of him.

It had been almost three years since you last remembered what it felt like to love someone, to find solace in someone's embrace, to feel butterflies from a kiss.

A lot of time spent in your new town, you spent thinking about him. About your friends. About the life you had left behind. About your father, if he was even still alive. You didn't bid farewell to anyone upon leaving Beacon Hills. You had ran home that day, packed up your most important belongings, and never came back. You changed everything, for hopes of no one finding you; you cut your hair, changed up your wardrobe a bit, and even got a new phone number so no one could contact you, for you knew it would have you crawling back in a heartbeat.

You had bought an apartment in this new town, and you secretly hated it. It couldn't hold a torch to Beacon Hills. While it was admittedly terrifying to live there at times, it still held more excitement and love than your new place ever could. You shared the cost of rent and other necessities with the one girl whose attention you caught back in high school, but she was your only friend, and you were her only friend as well. She was sweet, lovable, and brave, but she wasn't Allison. She was sassy, quick-witted, and charming, but she wasn't Lydia.

Your plan to make more than one friend had also failed, seeing as new girl wasn't a very respectable status where you finished high school. You didn't qualify for any sports teams because the girls didn't trust you. Even the guys didn't trust you.

In more ways than one did you miss your old home, because, to you, the current home in which you resided didn't even feel like a home should. It was just a means of escape. Escape from the boy you would never have the chance of loving. From the friends you needed more than ever.

You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes to yourself as you realized you had just disobeyed your one and only rule since moving.

No thinking about them. It will only make the pain worse.

You rubbed a hand over your face, and then through your hair. You had ruined everything with your stubbornness. Why did you leave? Why couldn't you just wait to see how everything would turn out before ducking out halfway through the action? There was no way of contacting everyone again, not after buying an entirely new phone. You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to crawl back into Stiles's arms, but he was gone. It was too late. There had to have been something you could have done to save him that you just never noticed at the time.

"Hey, Y/N!"

"Oh, Georgia, hi!" You sent your roommate a tight-lipped smile, closing your laptop as she slid into the seat across from you.