The world of the supernatural can be, confusing -to say the least- at times. You have your standard werewolves, vampires, and after that things get complicated. Among those few infamous creatures are the hidden, ancient beings that walk among the Earth, the type that lay far beneath the barrier that divides humans and monsters.
Yet despite how puzzling the lesser known can be, that doesn't necessarily exempt the "common folk" of the 2nd realm from the same analogy. In some ways they all seemed equally full of mysteries, the type that had been unsolvable to humans and monsters alike for years. And it was no exception that this trope still was true to this very day.
In fact, to Stiles, werewolves seemed just as odd as the rest. He was aware of the basics though. They had fangs, their eye color -during a change- would present their status, and their transformation was highest at the moons peak. And although he was still relatively new to these traits, he had adapted quite well with Scott possessing them. Although he did have to admit watching hair grow out of his best friend's face would never not be fucking weird.
But overall, the only thing he really did understand was just the basics. The sole diverse quality of a werewolf he did understand was how one could evolve (as well as devolve) into a Kanima, but that rarely ever happened, so after the whole Jackson and Matt charade it wasn't of much use.
And then there was Derek Hale, he was by far one of the most troublesome mysteries of all. Despite the rest of his ponderings, that scruffy, dark persona that was Derek always echoed back into Stiles' thoughts. Of course he never understood why, he had tried to last summer, but as always there was no luck.
On top of that, there was something about Derek, and even as Stiles laid in his bed that night he could feel it. Something that just seemed to click between them. He had no clue if Derek's feelings were mutual, and he wasn't even sure exactly what his own emotions were, but when pertaining to the subject of him and Derek it always felt oddly warm and fuzzy. So for some obscure reason, Stiles had to decide to reevaluate his unidentified aura that beamed whilst Derek was present, as well as when he roamed in his thoughts.
Stiles reached a hand over to his nightstand, knocking several trinkets over before his hand felt the cold metal exterior of his lamp. He switched it on, illuminating the dull room in an instant, and sat upright as to clear his thoughts.
"What is it about you?" Stiles whispered timidly whilst running a hand through his oak colored hair, his mind felt no relief as a result.
He shut his eyes tight, trying to erase Derek from his consciousness. It worked every now and then, he knew from previous attempts of course. It had to work this time though, right? After all it worked for Lydia all those months ago. Speaking of Lydia, what had even happened with the feelings that he used to feel so strongly of?
He could remember it like yesterday, seeing Lydia and getting butterflies in his stomach. Feeling that having her in his thoughts should be a forbidden treasure, and then one day it all went away like a wind current. One day he was in love, and the next full of void and bitterness. Well maybe saying he felt bitter was an exaggeration, but what he once felt was gone. Utterly and completely gone.
Now he and Lydia were tight knitted friends, rather than what seemed to be start crossed lovers at first. Odd, isn't it?
Stiles placed a hand over his face, his method failed as he had presumed. Derek's face, presence, and voice still lingered within his head. Stiles laughed at his misfortune, pathetic, wasn't he? He had felt so strong in earlier days, and all of a sudden his toughest problem was no longer a monster, or a threat, it was a boy. A stupid, idiotic, overly pushy werewolf that just wouldn't budge the slightest.
He felt like it should be easy to get Derek out of his head.
If anything Derek was actually quite annoying, always pushing Stiles around, although he knew this was only Derek's way of showing him he cared. What an odd way to portray such a thing, Stiles thought himself as he tossed his body back onto the mattress.
Stiles propped up his hand in front of his face, tracing the sapphire veins with his eyes in repetitive patterns. Often this would help him calm down about something, he had done it often around his mother's death. However, there was little luck this time.
"Come on, come on," Stiles said breathily, taking in little spurts of air in a third attempt for comfort.
Stiles gave up that time, reaching back over to his nightstand for a glass of water. Upon picking it up it felt weightless, probably empty. He set the transparent glass back onto the wooden surface, and ruffling the covers until his whole body was exposed to the chill of the night.
"Fuck, nice to see that nothing's gonna go my way,"
He sat up out of bed then, reclaiming the glass and made his way to the refrigerator downstairs. The cold tile floor contrasted with his feelings, clashing with the warm dazed thought of Derek his heart seemed to slow.
Stiles placed the glass under the small pocket in the front of the large machine, filling it with icy cold water. He propped his back up against the icy fridge exterior, taking small sips of the water, staring up into the skylight above his head.
The stars looked beautiful, tones of blue and white (and maybe hints of yellow) filled his view. A color scheme to drool over if anything, Stiles adored it much.
He sank down to the floor, now residing by the fridge's lower portion. He needed to work this out, and he needed to work it out now. The one thing tht was clear, was that he had felt this feeling before, that's why he tried the same remedies.
That's when it hit him.
"Shit, oh my g-" Stiles exclaimed, he had gotten ahold of where this familiar feeling was from.
"Fuck," He added, feeling a sense of shock upon the relapse of realization.
He understood it now, what this feeling was. He had felt it since 3rd grade, since he knew Lydia. But now it seemed the arrow was more aimed towards Derek Hale.
It, the emotion, was love, and Stiles was terrified.