The Breaking ➝ Isaac Lahey

Chapter Sixty-Two

"You're upset," he said quietly, bumping his fist against his palms softly.

"No shit," she sneered, moving past him to stand before the sink.

Stiles hadn't thought about how to approach her. He just felt like he should be there, but for her stubbornness to accept any sort of affection was becoming unnerving. He turned her way to tell her off but stopped when he saw her onyx colored nails picking at her scabs.

"Hey, hey, stop that!" he swiftly grabbed her arm to spin her around and pried her hand from her face. His frantic warning was too late as she had already opened another cut.

"They're bothering me," her voice was impassive and lacked emotion as she yanked her hand from his grasp, glaring up at him through hooded eyes. A vacant, deadpan expression occupied her doll-like features. It didn't suit her features very well, which made Stiles' heart pang even more. To him, it was all too evident that this facade she put up was all a mask to push anyone away.

"Well, you're making them bleed if you keep picking on em' like that. Have you cleaned them?" he questioned, his tone exuding absolute disapproval and worry.

Charlie was taken back by his tone, and a smirk colored her complexion, making Stiles place his hands on his hips, already anticipating her snarky retort.

"Stiles, if I didn't know any better, I would say you're concerned for me." Charlie chimed, her voice nasal from her indecent crying only a couple of minutes prior, "Is this your way of flirting cause if you keep this up, you'll totally ruin my rep of being a heartless bitch."

Stiles' complexion contorted to that of pure incredulous, astonished that she was so quick to swerve conversation at her will. "You are literally the most frustrating person I have ever met." he spazzed, running a frustrated hand down his face.

Charlie rolled her eyes idly. "Yes, I've cleaned them; I know how to take care of some cuts," she answered finally, her arms crossed like a defiant toddler.

"But those aren't just any cuts are they?"

Charlie didn't break from his eyes as he towered over, her nostrils flaring. Although she remained nonchalant and dismissive, she was cautious of Stiles' reaction. She was tired. Stiles stood still, his breathing heavily as he was already exhausted from arguing with her. "Would you just let me help you?" he asked exasperatedly, taking this as his last request before he decided to storm out of the bathroom. He wished Aspen was here to calm her down, not wanting to be on the receiving end of a water attack.

With a huff, Charlie nodded reluctantly, dropping her hands and brought town her defensive wall. Stiles quirked his eyes in relief and moved around the bathroom to gather paper towels. He folded the long piece into a square and soaked it under warm water. Charlie watched with amusement in her eyes as he was rambling quickly to himself about the things he needed. Not that there were many items in the bathroom to help with cuts.

Charlie leaned against the wall, her hands fiddling with each other as she waited for Stiles. It was obvious no one has assisted her in anything before, and having a mere human attend to her wounds made her feel feeble. But how could she deny Stiles when he looked at her with those soft hazel eyes. 

The faucet squeaked as Stiles twisted it to stop, and he pressed the excess water from the paper towel. He walked over to Charlie, keeping his eyes down and realizing he didn't know a lick about cleaning any sort of wounds. But he couldn't back out now. Not when he was standing inches away from Charlie's face. There wasn't even enough room to step forward, and if he tried, their noses would surely touch.