Blurry » Sterek

Chapter 32

I'm the worstttt I know. All the other chapters I had already written in advance, now I actually have to write them to upload but I've been busy. I promise I'll TRY to be faster for the next ones.

Also, I didn't plan for this chapter to go the way it did but I hope you enjoy :)

Stiles and Lydia jog into Beacon Hills High School as first bell rings. They part ways for their lockers, and Stiles is in no rush whatsoever. Not only is he already tardy, but Derek is in his first hour, and he's in no way prepared to face the werewolf.

"Scott," Derek whispers, gaining his and Issac attention, "Where's Stiles?" Scott shrugs, pointing down at his phone, "Running late."

"In the back," the teacher calls, "Quiet."

Derek immediately catches Stiles' scent when he steps foot into the school, and listens to his hammering heartbeat until he's pulling open the classroom door.

The human feels eyes burning into him, and wills himself to not look over at the eyes waiting to meet his. Unfortunately for him, the only available seat is right next to Derek, and asking Issac and Scott to move down would be a dead giveaway that something is wrong.

"Mr. Stilinski, please take your seat," The teacher requests, forcing Stiles' frozen muscles to move stiffly across the room until he's dropping into the desk, gaze glued to the whiteboard upfront. After surveying the classroom one last time, the teacher presses play on the film.

"Stiles," Derek states, now fully aware how the teenagers feels about what happened last night. He's embarrassed, upset, and angry, at least those are the three emotions the werewolf can make out. Stiles chooses not to acknowledge his name, fists clenching as his eyes watch the screen, but doesn't take in any of what's happening.

"Stiles, please," the werewolf tries again, leaning further into the isle. Stiles swallows hard, teeth pressing together. He flinches away when a hand lightly brushes his arm, finally breaking the last of his—already thin—patients.

"Don't!" He snaps in a harsh whisper, "I can't right now, Derek, don't you get that?" The genuine pain and conflict troubling Stiles' features makes Derek frown, he never meant for any of this to happen, not the way it did, at least.

"I want to talk...explain," Derek pleas.

"Mr. Hale!" The teacher shouts, "Do I need to change your seat?"

"No need," Stiles mutters, clearing the few items from his desk as he stands, holding the book and notebook tight to his chest as he leaves the room. Scott knits his eyebrows together in utter confusion, clearly he had missed something.

"Stiles!" Derek calls, abandoning his belongings as he chases the other male down the hall. The teacher stops the third student attempting to ditch, fuming when he nearly screams Scott's name to sit back down.

The human hears a loud ringing in his ears, his mind spiraling towards a panic attack. He clamps both hands over his ears, trying to drown out the deafening sound as he drops to the floor, knees to chest. With so many ways to fuck this up, Stiles never imagined he would do it in the most typical teenage way. Fragile foundation crushed in one hormonal decision.

"Breathe, Stiles, breathe," a distant voice soothes, "Mimic mine, okay? In and out, like this."

"What do you feel, Stiles?"

The male managed to zero in on Derek, the source of his voice like a life line, and his hand pressing Stiles' own to the werewolf's chest.

"You...Yo-your heartbeat. It's uh, it's beating really fast," Stiles hastily replies, trying desperately to focus on his sense of touch, "And it's strong, I can feel it pulsing into my forearm." And he can, which tells him Derek is worried.

"Good. Now what can you hear?"

"Uh, um," Stiles swallows to wet his dry throat, "The wind. Someone must have left the door to the field cracked open, it's whistling."

"Smell?"

Stiles wrinkles his nose, a laugh almost bubbling to the surface, "Sweat, dirty socks, but mostly...you." Derek smiles, just barely.

"And what do you see?"

Forgetting his eyes have been screwed shut, Stiles lets his muscles relax and his eyes flutter open, lungs refamiliarizing itself with consistent oxygen; the sight of Derek is like the best gulp of fresh air he's ever had. "Your alpha eyes looking at me as if I were a ghost." The werewolf is taken back by the answer, unaware of his wolf pushing to the surface in his moment of action. He blinks to his normal shade of blue-green, collapsing against the lockers next to Stiles in relief.

"Are you really that scared to have this talk with me?" Derek wonders, staring ahead of him at another row of lockers.

"Yes," Stiles admits, exhaling a shaky breath, "But I know I shouldn't avoid it...so, let's talk."