Dylan O'Brien Imagines

Right In Front Of Me // Stiles Stilinski

"I noticed you." Scott defended, to which you chuckled.

"Thanks, Scott." You brought the boy into a side-hug before averting your attention back to Stiles. "So, which one is it today?"

"What?"

"Oh, please. I think both Scott and I have been keeping tabs on how you've been milking this thing recently. One minute, Malia is your soulmate. That is, until Queen Lydia does something so trivial as closing her locker and suddenly she's got you wrapped around her finger. This isn't healthy for you to be bouncing back and forth between two very different and beautiful girls. It's not healthy for any of you, actually."

"This is why she's the smart one." Scott pointed out, throwing an arm around you. A cocky grin encased your lips.

"I swear, you both literally hate me." Stiles grumbled frustratedly, presumably walking off to first period. Neither you nor Scott made a move to go after the distraught boy, knowing that nothing could change the funk he was in right now. Besides, he never could stay angry at either of you for extended periods of time. He'll be talking your ears off by the time lunch rolls around.

"He so loves Malia." You said to Scott, looking after the retreating figure of your best friend.

"Why would you think that?" He asked, turning to face you. "It's Lydia that he's destined to be with."

"I think you should suggest to coach on reinforcing the protection on those helmets he makes you wear." You laughed, patting his head before walking to your own first period class.

You were still in earshot when you heard him say to himself, "Why does everybody keep saying that?"

It wasn't until the end of the school day that you were able to check in on Stiles again. Classes had been busy and offered little to no free time, and you spent your lunch in the library cramming for a forgotten test. A sigh of relief left you upon spotting him at his locker. However, he didn't look too good. You readied your quirky personality and witty commentary to hopefully elevate his mood, even if just for a minute. There was nothing in the world that you hated more than seeing those important to you upset.

"Wassup, nerd?" You greeted cheerfully, expecting to cast some of your energy onto him. All wishes for a happy Stiles began to falter, or at least after viewing the blank look he sent your way. A frown defeated your smile as he thumped his head on his locker multiple times before just letting it rest there. Offering a comforting hand to stroke his shoulder, your expression only worsened. "Oh, honey. You're worse off than I thought."

He groaned in response.

An epiphany welcomed itself in your head, your eyes lighting up the smallest fraction. "How about we hang out tonight? Just the two of us, like we used to? We can get drunk off our asses and bitch about our sucky love lives, what do ya say?"

Your heart slowly began to lift itself off the ground as Stiles turned to look at you. What began as a look of defeat transformed to befuddlement, which ultimately led to one of acceptance.

"That doesn't sound too excruciatingly painful."

"That's almost exactly what I wanted to hear." You responded, a smile slowly taking possession of your face. Gently tugging him to follow you out of school, you said, "Come on! Let us voyage off to the deserted island named Jack Daniels."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"So, what's so sucky about your love life?" Stiles asked cautiously, as if worried he would strike a nerve. The two of you had consumed a considerate amount of alcohol within the past hour, but were blessed with stomachs of iron. A slight haze has infiltrated your senses, but that was really it.