you called the police before you called me?

“Hey, uh, I know you’re like, probably flooded with dates right now but… do you wanna dance?” His eyebrows were wrinkled with worry; his voice lacked the confidence that usually exuded from the sarcastic comments he often remarked in class. 

Both giddiness and curiousity sparked like fireworks in your eyes as they glazed Stiles suit-clad figure: the inky black button-up that stretched across the expanse of his chest flawlessly, the lopsided, silver bow tie clipped around his neck, his hazelnut head of hair that was tinged with streaks of pomade, all of it. 

You almost felt as if you had been submerged under a pool of crystalline water and lifted to the surface again with reborn vision, for Stiles looked unexplainably different than he had before. It wasn’t just his exuberantly handsome ensemble, no, for reminiscing back to all the times he waved to you in the locker-lined hallways with a wide, almost boyish grin retained the new filter that shone over him.

With a now rapidly thrumming heart, and the cavity of your chest swarming with butterflies, you, at long last, realized. Shielded to you from years prior until just a few moments ago, you had a crush on the witty and equally adorable Stiles Stilinski.

Eagerly you took his shaking, outstretched hand, and he stumbled you clumsily, in a perfectly Stiles fashion, to the central dance floor of the gymnasium. 

Your hands found their way instinctively to the nape of his neck, where you let your arms rest on the fabric of his shirt, your fingers fiddling with the collar. After a few awkward moments, his palms situated on your waist, following the curve of your hips that swayed with the music.

The languid, amourous song that echoed through the rafters curtained with streamers flooded your ears from a distance, and soon you found that the rhythm of your heart had synced with the steady beat. 

A million thoughts sped through the flustered brunette’s head, but they were all put on pause when you cut the comfortable silence, saying with a soft tone of genuineness, “I really like you, Stiles.” 

If Stiles had known any better, known that the feelings you expressed weren’t as fantastical as his doubts had convinced him, he would’ve reciprocated the statement in a heartbeat. But the question that lingered in his mind before he drifted off the sleep each night, the worries that simmered on the back burner of his mind wouldn’t allow him to believe you. 

Why would the most devastatingly gorgeous girl at school like, of all people, me?

“Very funny, Y/N, but I’m not really into the whole public humiliation thing.” An almost reflexive comment that dripped with familiar sarcasm emitted from his mouth with the slightest quirk of his lips and a disbelieving shake of his head.

“I’m serious!” Your throat bubbled with giggles, but your sentiment was wholeheartedly authentic. 

“April fools’ was a month ago, you’re not fooling anyone, especially not me.”

“Why are you having such a hard time believing that I’d like you?”

“Maybe just the fact that you’re amazing, popular, breathtaking, the smartest girl I know, flawless, et cetera. Everything I’m not?”

“Oh come on, Stiles, you seriously can’t believe that, can you? Even if I have a sub-par day, you always manage to make me crack a smile in Econ. And you always know what to say when someone’s down; Lydia’s told me about all the times you’ve helped her when she really needed it. And your streak of intelligence doesn’t go unnoticed by me, either. I’ve seen you cooped up in the library reading until you can’t keep your eyes open any longer. You don’t realise all the things that make you as wonderful as you are, Stiles.”

His captivating chocolate eyes widened with surprise. He must’ve been dreaming, right? How many fingers does he have? Is there something around him that he could read?

“What’s wrong?” you queried concernedly, as Stiles’ mind finally absorbed the reality sitting patiently in front of him.  

“Nothing, nothing. I-I, I’m just still letting the fact that you could actually like me sink in.”

A smile crooked your lips upwards, an expression that Stiles could get addicted to; a look he’d do absolutely anything to grace your features again. 

“You look really beautiful under the gym lights.”

Small, lighthearted giggles escaped your fluttering chest ever so slightly; you retracted your hands from their hanging position around Stiles’ neck to cover your mouth as increasingly deeper laughs hiccuped from your throat.

“Sorry -uh, that sounded a lot more romantic in my head.”

Beads of perspiration formed on his palm as he combed through his soft hair flusteredly. 

Before his embarassed words could fill the magic-dusted air, or continue to sway to the steady rhythm of the music while panicking internally, you swiftly pressed your lips to his’.

Electric currents of passion swept over every inch of you skin, leaving prickles of addiction in their wake. What you'd give to stop time, savor this moment- this enrapturing state of emotions- until the end of time.

But eventually, the wide, goofy grins on both of your faces grew too wide to meld into each other any longer. You laid your buzzing head on his chest, listening to his rhythmic heartbeat, which was perfectly in sync with the song rattling through the gym as well.

"You look really beautiful anywhere, though."

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