Dylan O'Brien Imagines

Too Perfect // Stiles Stilinski

With a small tug you opened your locker and examined its contents. It's not like you needed to grab any books for class, seeing as you had free period next. No, the true reason as to why you were in said locker is to avoid taking part in the conversation being held before you. Even the slightest distraction you viewed as a blessing.

"What movie do you want to watch tonight?" Lydia looked at Stiles, her green eyes twinkling with curiosity. The action alone allowed her beauty to become thus more noticeable per usual.

"Babe, it's your pick tonight, remember?" The melodious voice that could only belong to your best friend Stiles bounced around your ears. Only in dreams would it become reality for him to speak to you in such ways he did with the strawberry-blonde. He had had his warm, brown eyes set out for her and only her for as long as you had known him. While it pained you to see the way his eyes lit up in her presence or how his smile was always just the slightest bit larger, you knew you had to be happy for him. He would do the same for you, right?

"I know, but I thought we could choose together."

Holding back the urge to roll your eyes, you slammed your locker shut, maybe with too much force. The echo it generated seemed to resound throughout the entire hallway, various pairs of eyes landing on you, and of course the two that you desperately wanted to be away from at this moment.

"I just remembered," You tried to mask your frustration smoothly, but one glance at Stiles told you he wasn't buying into it. From birth he had been gifted with the ability to read into one's true emotions. Even the greatest, most talented actor couldn't fool him. "I needed to talk to Mrs. Pillsbury before class today. Bye."

"I'll talk to you later?" Surprise filled you once your eyes connected with the only ones that ever seemed to matter.

"Yeah, sure." With that, you were gone. Your converse slapped against the tile flooring of the school hallways as you escaped yet another situation involving your best friend.

* * *

A groan tore from your lips as a frantic pattern rapped at your front door. Escaping the comforting confines of your blanket-clad couch, you stalked over as the sound got louder with each step you took. The intensity of its volume caused a migraine to invade your skull. You lifted a hand to massage your temple as you used the other to open your door. The knob felt cold on your palm as you grasped it, turning and pulling it towards you to reveal the last person you felt like speaking to. Your voice came out weak, exhausted, more than you intended it to. "What do you want, Stiles?"

"To talk to my best friend. You know, like normal people do?" Stiles invited himself into your house, sliding through the gap that had emerged in your doorway. His sneakers dragged against the carpeted floor as he paced frantically, hands waving wildly as he mumbled at an octave that prohibited you from hearing him.

"We're anything but normal, Stiles." You grumbled, head falling back in agitation. You closed the door, knowing full well that the spastic boy wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.

"You know what I mean." He sneered, eyes closing until they were just slits. The usually cheerful boy nipped at your heels as you trailed over to the couch and found a seat. "What was up with you today? You hardly said a word during lunch or sixth period, and should I even bother bringing up that little thing that happened in the hallway?"

"It was nothing." You lied smoothly, or so you thought. "I was just pissed that I got a C on my history test."

"That is the biggest lie and you know it."

"Well, what do you want me to say, Stiles?"

"Well, the truth would certainly be a good start."