Disclaimer: teen wolf not mine ha I couldn't help myself I had to write an angsty snippet and I really hope you all enjoy the pain ha xxx
He promised everyone he would try. That he would try and move on in a healthy way. That he would try and be 'Stiles' again. He had made these promises without knowing how to fulfil them. How to return to normalcy again in the wake of his entire life being flipped upside down and torn apart in the most earth shattering way possible. He just couldn't see himself being okay ever again. Not after everything.
He knew this guilt and self blame wasn't helping, but he couldn't change how he felt. He couldn't stop the terror and fear that seized a hold of his body every time he remembered what he did, what he said, how many people died by his hands and his alone. He was drowning in his own inner turmoil, suffocating on every breath he took, the back of his mind telling him how much better everyone would be if he wasn't here... If he just disappeared, never to be found...
He stretched restlessly on the bed again, kicking out at the duvet in agitation as he fidgeted, unable to get comfy, his mind racing a hundred miles an hour, unable to still itself. How many hours had he gone without sleep now? Fifty? Sixty? Or maybe it was closer to seventy, it was Thursday right? Or maybe Friday? He didn't know and, quite frankly, he didn't care all that much. Each day - each hour - was the same to him, filled with sadness and loneliness that he couldn't escape. Life was pointless to him right now.
He twisted yet again on his mattress, his head tilting sideways on the stack of pillows as he came face to face with the empty side of the bed. Her empty side of the bed. He had gotten so used to her always being there, her limbs usually intertwined with his or knocking him as she twisted and turned in her sleep, that having his bed be so cold and still was... Un-nerving.
He felt the familiar burn of tears blur his vision as he blinked quickly, trying to stop his chaotic emotions getting the better of him but it did no use. The tears still escaped and he was too exhausted to brush them away, the palm of his hand reaching out to caress the empty bed.
The sheets were cold and bare, unwrinkled and untouched.
No matter how many times he reached out, half hoping he would still be able to touch her warm skin next to him, it never happened. Not once. And it was killing him.
He screwed his eyes shut briefly, stopping the sobs trying to escape, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he clenched the untouched sheets in his fist to ground him, to stop himself getting lost in his grief but it never worked. He was slowly losing things, forgetting her exact smell or how soft her skin felt. The memories were still there and they always would be, he would hold onto them desperately, but the vividness was fading. It was like a part of his mind was only just realising that Kayla wasn't coming back - that she wasn't apart of his future anymore, just his past.
And that's what hurt him the most. That he was expected to just 'move on'. How could he? How was that possible when all he saw when he tried to plan anything, to try and get a glimpse of his future, was her? She was his reason was trying, for being strong, and now she wasn't here to be his beacon of light. She was gone. She was gone and he was left in the darkness, struggling to find a new source of light to guide him forward, to lead him away from the paid and sadness.
He never took his misty eyes away from the empty bed, pushing himself up to stare at the space she once occupied.
He let her in. He opened up to her, let her see the parts of himself he hated and feared. He let himself be bare and vulnerable in all body, mind and soul. He allowed himself the chance to be happy and secure, being no one but himself. He didn't have to pretend or put on a fake mask. She saw him for who he was and she loved him for that. He saw that every time their gazes met. And yet he was still amazed up until her dying breath how much she loved him.
"I miss you" he admitted quietly, gazing down at the empty space and bringing up the image of her lying there, pretending she was asleep all wrapped up cosy in the duvet, hair strewn across her face as she slept peacefully, "I miss you so much..."
They had shared so much memories in this bed. He had held her here. Kissed her. Comforted her. Made love to her. Played with her. Helped her do her homework. They had talked well into the night many a-times, opening up to one another and sharing parts of themselves that no one else knew. She had cried in his arms here. He had broke down in her presence. This was where she told him she was pregnant and where he held her as she went through the agonising pain of losing their baby. So much had happened, a life shared. And now it was all gone, never to happen again. He was alone in this bed, never to feel her warmth again.
He picked up his lacrosse hoody that was laying on the pillow, bringing it into his chest and dropping his face into the soft material, breathing in her scent that was slowly fading. Soft, fresh vanilla mixed with sweet honey, something else, something so Kayla that he could never pinpoint, intertwined with the soft smells. Even this was disappearing, the smell of her fading. He didn't want that to happen. He wanted to hold onto everything about her but he feared that wouldn't happen.
His tears soaked into the maroon fabric, his cries muffled and silent. He was an expert at that by now - crying without making a single noise. He did make a promise after all, he said he would try and move on. None of his friends needed to know that he wasn't planning on doing that anytime soon. He needed to wallow in his own self pity and grief for a little while longer - maybe even forever.
They just clicked, flawlessly moulded together as one.
The perfect match.
He couldn't imagine ever finding someone else that did it for him. That he could be open and be honest with. Someone that forced him to see and accept every part of him, both good and bad, and love himself for it. People talked all the time about soulmates but she was more than that. She was the better part of him. She was his one. The only one. And he had lost her. She was gone and she wasn't coming back. He wasn't ready to accept that.
He hugged the hoody closer, getting lost in her smells as he curled back into the empty cold bed and cried.
Just cried.
Cried for what he had lost.
Cried for what she never got to do with her life.
Cried for the future he now knew he would never get.
No more trips to the Grand Canyon. No more late night runs in the jeep. No more ridiculous prank wars. He wouldn't get to go to college with her, or raise a family. He wouldn't get to grow old with her. All of that wiped away like window-washers on the windscreen on a rainy day.
He was alone. Terribly alone. And he had never felt so damn empty.
Kayla... His Kaylz... She was gone. She was dead. He killed her. She's out there by herself, rotting and cold because of him. All of this was his fault.
And so he fell into a restless slumber, clutching the hoody for dear life, sticking to his side of the bed like he was waiting... Waiting for her come back to him, slip into one of his baggy tees and curl up against him. Waiting for a miracle.
... Just waiting for his love.
A/n) I apologise but I had to hahaha you know me, love me some Angst haha hope you all liked this wee once shot and please pleaseeeee review I would love to hear what y'all think of sad stiles haha thank you and see y'all soon xxx