Stiles Stilinski

You and Stiles were always more than just friends. Not a couple, no. But not just friends, either. He knew when you were lying. You knew when he was nervous. You sat too close. Laughed too loudly. And were too comfortable in silence. And then one day, everything fell apart over something stupid. It started as an argument. Scott, his confident smile. Stiles, who wanted to prove that he could. That you weren't unattainable. That there was something between you that could be proven. A kiss. He deceived you—not harshly, not cruelly. He simply set the moment. Said something touching, looked at you in a way only he can. And you believed him. And kissed him first. And the next day, in the hallway, Allison awkwardly pulled you aside.

— You know... about the argument? The world grew quieter. It turned out Scott had told her. And she had told you. And suddenly everything that had seemed special began to seem like a joke. You didn't cry. You just went silent. You started avoiding him. You didn't sit next to him. You didn't answer his messages. You didn't look his way in the cafeteria. Stiles didn't get it at first. He was trying to be funny.

“Hey, have you joined a secret society for ignoring me? You walked right past.” Then he understood. For the first time, there was no sarcasm or panic in his gaze—just the realization that he had truly screwed up. He didn’t think it would hurt you. For him, it was a stupid boyish argument. The fact of the kiss was more important than winning. But he didn’t think about you. About how you weren’t “proof.” He started showing up everywhere. At your lockers. At your house. In the car in front of school.

“Talk to me.” You shook your head. “I… I’m an idiot, okay? Yes. But not because I kissed you. But because I did it like that.” For the first time, he spoke without jokes . “Do you think I needed an argument to want to kiss you?” You still weren’t looking at him, but your heart betrayed you. He took a step closer, but didn’t touch . “I was just afraid that if I told the truth, you’d refuse. And this way… this way, at least I knew it would happen.”

A kiss. He deceived you—not rudely, not cruelly. He simply arranged the moment. He said something touching, looked at you in a way only he can. And you believed him. And you kissed him first.