The bland, white walls of the hospital stood around you mockingly, your eyes close to burning holes into them under your harsh gaze. Your knees bounced apprehensively, your hands rested atop making them follow the same movement. Disbelief crowded your thoughts as your mind wandered back to the previous happenings of the day. You just couldn't find yourself coming to terms with what he did. It should've been you, not him. It should be your body lying on an operating table at this moment, your body succumbing to the pokes and prods of needles and other surgical tools. You should be in pain, not him. Not Stiles.
With your thoughts swarming viciously and your hands becoming clammy, you pushed yourself from the uncomfortable hospital chair and began pacing. Your dirty converse squeaked against the white tiles below as you spun and walked, continuing to move back and forth until you finally spoke. It almost didn't register in your head that you were talking, your voice coming out hoarse from its misuse. "How much longer do you think he's gonna be in there? We've been waiting out here for nearly three hours already."
"It's actually only been thirty minutes." Kira corrected uneasily, smiling at you sympathetically.
"Thirty minutes too long." You grumbled, ceasing your steps and pressing your back against the wall you had been formerly glaring at. Your fingers tapped your crossed arms anxiously.
"Y/N, calm down. He's going to be okay." Scott, the incessantly optimistic one, said as he suddenly appeared before you.
"It should've been me." You simply responded, your eyes averted to the ground.
"Don't say that, Y/N." He said softly, rubbing your shoulder tenderly. You shook your head, scoffing to yourself bitterly.
"No, you can't say that because you weren't there." Your eyes found his, your bottom lip trembling as you struggled to hold back the ever-building dam of tears reaching the surface. "You didn't see how that asshole aimed his gun at me. Me. Not him. Stiles was just stupid enough to throw himself in front of me."
You planned on saying more, so much more. About how Stiles was so ridiculous to jump in front of a bullet for you. How you had no idea if he would make it out of this alive, if he would live to see another day. If he could hold on for just a while longer, or just long enough for you to say goodbye. But you couldn't. Your voice wouldn't allow you, for your tears had different plans. Scott pulled you into his arms as you cried into his shoulder softly, latching onto him tightly.
"I can't lose him, Scott." You managed to whisper.
"I know, Y/N."
"Oh, my God. Stiles, you're so stupid." You laughed at your friend, watching in amusement as he tried to shove copious amounts of curly fries into his mouth at once. The two of you were sat in his dad's office at the sheriff's station to hang out.
"Shumpfurmphatuyurph." A cackle escaped your lips at Stiles's failed attempt to speak with his mouth loaded with food.
"Sorry, what was that?" You asked teasingly, taking out your phone to record the mess your best friend had gotten himself into. He merely rolled his eyes playfully and stood from his dad's chair to approach you. Before you had time to stop it, his slender fingers had already grabbed your coffee, tugging off the lid before spitting some of his food into it, swallowing the rest. He laughed loudly as you gagged, cringing at your ruined beverage.
"I said, 'Not as stupid as you'." Stiles smiled sweetly, feigning innocence as he hands you back your drink.
"You're such a moron." You whined, ending the video on your phone and getting up to throw away the disaster sitting in your hands.
"And I take pride in that, so thank you."
Despite your quite obvious vexation, another laugh left your throat. Stiles grinned upon hearing it, but your party was soon put on pause. An unfortunately familiar sound resounded through the air, bouncing off the walls and weighing down your chest. Stiles's worried eyes met yours at the sound of the gunfire and screams. You stared right back, hoping for him to come up with a solution for your mind was running far too quickly in your head to actually form a coherent thought. Hence, why you made a decision that was brave albeit unwise.
"Y/N!" Stiles shouted in a hushed whisper as you yanked open the door, the one object saving you from another visit to the hospital.
"Get down!" A deputy yelled over the shooting, but you couldn't seem to comprehend the words. It was all fuzzy to you. A pair of arms wrapped around you, hiding you behind a fallen desk for cover. You took a glance at Stiles, who still held onto you tightly, as if he assumed you would try to run off again.
"What the hell was that?" He spoke into your ear loudly, but even with the close proximity you could hardly make out what he was saying.
"We have to do something, Stiles." You responded stubbornly.
"We are in a sheriff's station with a room full of trained cops! I think we're more than okay. Just stay out of the line of fire, alright? I'm not gonna let you get hurt!"
And he didn't.
But he failed to make the same promise for himself.
"Stiles! Y/N! Get out of here!" Deputy Parrish hollered, but before you were given time to obey, your only source of protection was kicked away. A man in a black ski mask stood before you, staring down at you menacingly, gun cocked and loaded. He pointed it at you, to which you gulped, frozen. Even if you made an attempt to evade, nothing beats the swiftness of a speeding bullet. You watched his finger hover over the trigger, almost tauntingly before it was tugged back.
But you felt no impact.
The thugs were then captured, one by one, and soon, the room was empty of any threats. No more shooting, no more yelling. Each and every individual fighting for their lives just milliseconds ago came out from their battle unscathed, to which you were grateful for.
"Y/N," A sharp gasp was liberated from you, once your eyes landed on a such a sight that made your heart shake, stomach tremble.
"Stiles," You cried, tears already slipping down your face as your hand found his cheek. He coughed, chest rising and falling rapidly. "Wha—I don't—I—."
"Hey, hey." Another cough, a shaky breath. "It's okay. I'll be fine, alright? It's okay."
"What the hell, Stiles?" You whimpered, ripping off your flannel to apply pressure to his wound. Exhaling sharply, he clenched his teeth in pain, and you hated seeing him in such a weak state.
"I'm f-fine." The boy breathed, one hand moving to grab yours tightly. "Don't worry about me. You're safe. That's all that matters."
"No, it doesn't." You argued, tears clouding your vision. "What about you?"
"You mean so much to me, Y/N. I want you to know that—"
"Don't you dare try to say goodbye. I'm not giving up on you, Stilinski."
"No, Y/N—"
"Stiles!" Sheriff Stilinski's eyes glazed over, looking as if the whole world had just crumbled to ash all around him. Dropping to his knees, he screamed to his deputies. "We need an ambulance!"
From there, the moments connecting the past and present were all a blur. You remember sitting in the ambulance with a pained Stiles who struggled to remain conscious, calling Scott to meet you at the hospital. He must have offered to contact the rest of your friends, for you never made any more calls, and you have the call log on your phone to prove so.
This brings you to now, waiting with nothing more to do than twiddle your thumbs while your best friend's life was on the line. Not a thing was left for you to do other than sit and desperately yearn to see Stiles again, alive and healthy. You don't recall seeing too much blood, but how could you know for sure? You were practically delirious when everything went down. Could you really trust any of your memories?
By the umpteenth replay of the incident in your mind, Melissa joined you and your friends. You shot out of Scott's hold and rid your face of any tears as you moved to stand closer to her. The questions cluttering that had been cluttering your head for hours now simultaneously fought to be liberated. There was no way for you to prohibit them as they rolled off your tongue at once. "How is he? Did the operation run smoothly? Did they fix him? Is he okay? Can we see him?"
"Calm down, Y/N." She allowed the smallest of smiles to grace her visage, hands on her hips in a relaxed fashion. Bubbly and relaxed. Deep down, you knew that had to be a good sign, but you didn't feel your nerves slacken at all.
"Why does everyone keep saying that?" You questioned, more to yourself than the people standing around you.
"Because he's going to be okay."
Shock and joy rolled through your veins, head shooting up to stare at the nurse before you in disbelief. A breath you never acknowledged you were holding was released from your mouth, tears of happiness begging to drip over your waterline. You pushed them away as you looked to the ceiling in awe, your voice dropping to a mere whisper. "Thank God."
The pack all took a collective breath as Melissa grinned, rubbing your shoulder. "Yeah, the procedure was successful, the bullet's gone. It actually didn't go in very deep, and it missed all of his internal organs, which is great. Stiles is going to be okay."
"Thank you." You pulled her against you tightly, sniffling. She patted your back before you broke away.
"It's the least I can do." She replied happily. Inspecting her surroundings carefully, she leaned in closer to the circle you and your friends had unintentionally formed. "I'm not allowed to be telling you this, but he's awake now if you want to go see him. I can only let one of you go in at a time, though."
Within an instant, all eyes had drifted to you. You looked to Scott for approval, knowing that the two of you were closest to the sarcastic boy friendship-wise. It had occurred to you that, in all likelihood, Scott was exceedingly eager to visit his best friend, too. He nodded to you with a humble smile. "Go on."
"You're sure?"
"He's not going anywhere anytime soon, Y/N."
"Right." You smiled nervously, following Melissa as she ushered you to the room where your best friend was currently being held up.
"We wanted to wait until the anesthesia wore off before telling you all that everything was finished, knowing how persistent you'd be to come see him. His surprisingly strong metabolism helped speed up the process." She said to you, a little humor laced in her tone. "You were the first one he asked for when he came to."
"Really?" You bit back a grin, your face growing warm as you thought about the boy you were going to see.
Melissa hummed teasingly, stopping in front of a door you only assumed belonged to Stiles. You rolled your eyes, listening to her laugh. She began to walk away, but not before leaving you with one last piece of advice. "Go get him, tiger."
You let out a breathy chuckle before composing yourself. On the other side of this door laid a boy who obviously cared about you. A boy who cared enough to risk his own life for you. A boy who threw all caution to the wind to ensure your safety. You hated him for making such a rash decision, but you also knew just how deeply your care for him originated, and that only seemed to grow after what had happened to you both hours ago. Closing your eyes, you took three long, slow breaths, before opening the door and walking inside.
"Y/N, you're safe." Stiles freed a breath of relief, sitting up farther against the pillows behind him.
"Stiles, you were pierced by a bullet and you're asking me if I'm okay?" You chuckled, smiling softly as you sat on his bed beside his left thigh. He showed off a smile of his own, playing with his lands that lay gently on his lap.
"I told you that I only cared about what happened to you." His words made your heart flutter like a butterfly experiencing its wings for the first time.
"Yeah, and that's stupid." You smacked his shoulder softly.
"You don't understand, Y/N." He shook his head. "Had you have been shot, I wouldn't have known what to do. What if you wouldn't have made it to the hospital like me? If you would have died, I ... I can't live in a Beacon Hills without Y/N Y/L/N."
"You're saying you were worried?" You scoffed lightly. Despite being flattered by the words to grace your ears, you didn't try to stop the frustration building in your bones. "Stiles, you mean the absolute world to me and I wouldn't have known what to do if you weren't here anymore. We take care of each other, alright? Don't go jumping in front of a bullet for me again, okay? You can't live in a Beacon Hills without me, but I can't live in a world without you."
"Y/N—"
"I'm not finished." You interrupted, scooting closer to him. "I care about you, Stiles. So, so much. Probably even more than humanly possible, but I do. I need you in my life—"
"I love you, too, Y/N."
"Wait, what?"
"You heard me." A newfound confidence swirled in Stiles's eyes, and you gazed at him with fondness and uncertainty. His cold hands grasped onto yours with gentleness but also determination. "I love you, Y/N. I love you so much, that I don't even know what else to say other than that."
"Good." Your lips connected with his softly, shyly. Only when you became fully acquainted with his taste did you press yourself to him harder. A gentle groan rumbled in his throat, his hand rising to caress your cheek. The affected skin grew especially warm in comparison to the rest of your body. His other hand traveled the back of your head, his fingers mingling with your hair. He sighed into your mouth, breathing life into your heart, which trembled in excitement.
Even as your lips ceased their dance, he ensured that he remained close. A weak chuckle escaped his lips, his breath fanning your heated face. His forehead rest against your temple for support. You giggled quietly, fingers skimming his soft hair.
"So, I guess the nerd can get the girl from time to time, huh?"