Dylan O'Brien Imagines

Can I Have This Dance? (Part 3) // Stiles Stilinski

You awake with a start, hands coming up to clutch your chest without thinking. One travels to your head. As your fingers graze over the back, you uncontrollably flinch in pain. However, your extremities are free of the blood you were expecting to find. Feeling your scalp once more, nothing feels out of place to you, aside from your greasy hair.

Shuffling in your seat, you hiss in pain as a sharp object knicks your bare leg. Your eyes travel toward the stinging sensation, before they fully widen as you take in your surroundings. A field of sticks varying in size remain scattered around you, one puncturing your skin. You wince as you softly tug it from your leg. Your body is propped against the thick trunk of a tree, nearly identical to the others planted in the ground. They all tower over you, making you feel small.

Observing the clothes sticking to your clammy body, you spot a ripped and tattered dress that is in no condition worth fixing. A double-take has you inspecting a gaping hole on the left side of your abdomen. A large chunk of the material there seems to be missing, torn at the edges; but the circle of skin showing is crystal clean unlike the rest of you. Your feet are absent of shoes, toes smothered in dried dirt. The nail polish adorning your nails has chipped, replaced with more dirt. Your mind begins to spiral, and that's when you remember: the dance.

A gasp leaves you as you recount the events to have transpired the night before. A raging migraine tears through your skull as flashes of the waking nightmare replay in your head like a ubiquitous horror flick.

Being in Stiles's arms, but ultimately rejecting him to chase after Lydia.

The lacrosse field.

Its ominous lighting.

Lydia's hand slipping from yours.

Losing consciousness—your fingers tread over your scalp again.

Stiles being the last thing you see.

A shiver runs through your veins, pulse speeding up at the prospect of your friends being in danger. The momentary fear of never seeing them again loomed over your mind like a thundrous cloud. You suddenly hated yourself for pushing Stiles away like you did, but you know that it was the right thing to do. Lydia had more support with the two of you there with her. While you couldn't guarantee her safety at this time, you hoped that the extra bodies made the saboteur feel outnumbered.

An eerily silent atmosphere suspended itself over the woods you were stranded in. The only sounds that graced your ears were the chirping birds above and the crackling sticks below as you shakily rose to your feet. Your hands press against the trunk for support as you determine you are alone; just you, the birds, and the trees.

Reluctantly, you release your grip on the rough bark beside you as you attempt to walk. Flashbacks of your days as a mere toddler wove through your thoughts as you took your first steps. Your legs wobbled with every step, teeth chattering from the chilly morning air and lack of clothing. The effects of your environment sent you tumbling to the ground, face smacking into the robust dirt ground.

Your thoughts welcomed Stiles as your body glued itself to the pile of sticks and twigs underneath you. His playful amber eyes full of mischief. His chocolate brown hair shaved into a neat buzz cut on his head. The constellation of moles that scattered across his cheeks and jaw, that you always yearned to caress. His soft pink lips that you never got to feel against your own. You remembered the look of dejection that flashed across his face as you pulled away from him on the dance floor, but he still chased after you onto the field. He skidded to a stop beside your weakened body, the last thing filling your vision before you fell into oblivion.

"Stiles," You whispered, nails digging into the dirt below you. Spaghetti noodles replaced your arms as you pushed yourself off the ground, but you didn't stop. Your knees still felt close to lifeless, and you fell into a couple of trees because of it, but you kept trotting in the direction your heart told you.