Dylan O'Brien Imagines

Hold Me // Stiles Stilinski

A content sigh had just flown past your lips as you further snuggled into the soft blanket swaddled around you. Right as the movie was about to commence on your television, an almost desperate knock resonated through the room. You groaned, plucking the covers from your body and sluggishly removing yourself from the couch. Trudging to your door, you felt the cold brass doorknob on your fingertips as you opened it. Evident surprise spilled onto your features as you took in the sight of your uninvited visitor.

"Stiles?" Was all you were able to say, taking in his soaking wet form. You had not even realized the heavy drops of rain pouring from the sky until now. Looking into Stiles's eyes, you knew it was best to not ask him of his troubles. You knew Stiles. You knew everything about him. Dating somebody for almost three years can do that to you. Despite the fact that you had since broken up, you were still there when the other needed it, and this no exception. Breaking from your reverie, you quickly ushered the seemingly devastated boy into your home. "We don't need you getting sick, now do we? Follow me upstairs and I can get you a towel and some new clothes, okay? You're more than welcome to grab a quick shower if you want."

Breathing still heavy and haphazard, he simply nodded. You sent him a sympathetic smile, softly taking his cold hand into your warm one and doing as you said you would.

After you got him into your bathroom with a fresh towel, you went into your bedroom in search of some clothes for Stiles to wear. After completing that duty, you sat on your bed and waited as the sound of running water filled your ears. This opportunity offered you time to think. What the hell exactly happened to Stiles that had him running to you for comfort? As aforementioned, nothing could break the loyalty the two of you dedicated to one another, but it's not like you had been set up on a daily speaking basis with him since your break-up. You just assumed that he would have gone to Scott or Lydia before you. Maybe he had gotten into an argument with one of them that prohibited him from finding solace in them? Nonetheless, you were still glad that he was comfortable enough to choose you for a situation like this.

"Hey," His voice, still weak and frail, caused you to perk up. You felt your face grow warm upon viewing his naked torso, seeing as he only had a towel wrapped around his waist as he stood in your doorway. It was plain to see his uncomfortableness as well, his ears and cheeks transitioning to a pinkish hue. You cleared your throat and averted your gaze, quickly shuffling over and handing him some of his clothes that he had given to you while you were together. He sent a small thanks your way before presumably returning to the bathroom to get changed.

By the time he was finished and back in your bedroom, both of your faces had returned to their normal color. Quietly, you led him back downstairs and took a seat on the couch.

"What happened?" You asked gently. You reached out to stroke his right shoulder in a comforting manner, only for him to wince in pain and scoot away from you in fear. "Stiles?"

Tears sprung to his eyes again as he looked at you, massaging the spot where you had barely grazed with your fingers. "Y/N."

"Come here." You commanded compassionately, pulling the distraught boy into your arms as he moved closer to you. His dug his face in your neck, soft cries spilling from his body. Your shirt grew wet with his tears, but you couldn't bring it in you to care. Carding your fingers through his damp hair, he clung to you like a vice. Like you were the only thing anchoring him to his sanity. "It's okay. It's okay, just breathe. You're safe."

"I'm s—s—sorry." He whimpered, taking in shaky breaths.

"Sorry? Don't be sorry, Sti." You cooed, rocking his weakened form. "Why are you sorry? Talk to me."

"I—I—"

"Okay, deep breaths, right? Just breathe." You urged, pulling his face from the comfort of your shoulder. Running a hand through his hair—remembering that it was something that always calmed him down—you took deep breaths and encouraged him to do the same. Eventually, his breathing pattern became somewhat stable. "Tell me what happened."