"Chimera."
"What?"
"Chimera."
"What . . . ? Who?"
"You."
*
A/N
Rating this fucking thing as Mature because wattpad has been up my ass about including gifs that "break policies" because they show blood/literally any kind of wound & I don't want eithe...
"I don't know." Scott shrugged and turned to his best friend. "I just woke up, and I was sweating like crazy, and I couldn't breathe. I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before."
"Really?" Stiles asked. "I have. Usually ends a little differently."
»Yeah, that's Stiles for you.«
"Ugh . . ." Scarlett felt shivers.
"Okay, A; I mean I've never had a dream that felt that real and B; . . ."
Scarlett finished, "Never ever give that much detail about you in bed again. Freaking disgusting, dude."
"Noted."
"You think it has something to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow." Scott said. "Like, I'm going to lose control and rip her throat out?"
"No, of course not." Stiles shook his head. His best friend raised his brows and the human boy sighed. "Yeah, that's totally it." Said Stilinski. "Hey, come on, it's going to be fine, alright? Personally, I think you're handling this pretty freaking amazingly. You know, it's not like there's a lycanthropy for beginners class you can take."
"Not a class." Scott mumbled.
"Maybe a teacher?"
Stiles glanced at the twins. Both of them shrugged and raised their eyebrows and Stiles smacked them both in the back of the head. "You forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?"
"You did, I didn't." Little Twin pointed out.
"But . . ." Scott sighed. "chasing her, dragging her to the back of the bus, it felt so real."
"How real?"
"Like it actually happened."
They opened the doors . . .
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"I think it did." Stiles said.
*
"She's probably fine-"
Scott cut Stiles off by saying, "She's not answering my texts, Stiles."
"It could just be a coincidence, a seriously amazing coincidence."
"Just help me find her." Poor Scott was losing his mind. His blood rushed and his heart began to pump faster and harder, until Scott leaned against the lockers and punched one as hard as he could. It bent and twisted and almost came clean off. Whittemore's locker.
