Break up. Stiles · Y/n story by @Peigh13

The air smelled of pine and ozone and the faint, metallic tang of blood. The jeep's engine ticked as it cooled, and the only light came from the half-moon and the distant, flickering streetlamps of Beacon Hills.

Stiles Stilinski

I mean it. I know it sounds like something out of a bad sci-fi movie or a really depressing indie flick, but… I can't. I can't keep doing this. Watching you almost die. Watching you get thrown through walls, and clawed at, and—

He didn't move closer. He didn't reach for you. He just sat there, a boy made of worry and sleepless nights, and waited for you to say something.