Stiles Stilinski

The hallways buzzed—lockers slammed, someone laughed, someone rushed to class. You stood calmly by your locker when a familiar crash sounded nearby. Panic always came with it. He appeared from the side—disheveled, with a lopsided backpack and a crumpled piece of paper in his hands. Inspiration mixed with disaster in his eyes. Another “brilliant” plan for Lydia. You listened. Evaluated. And just as calmly, you ruined it all with one short refusal. His shoulders slumped, his sigh came out heavy. He had no Plan B—only improvisation and an innate talent for making everything awkward. You slammed your locker, and he suddenly looked at you differently—without bravado. His smile became softer, more genuine. He had come for advice about someone else. But he was smiling—at you.
He runs to you every day. During breaks. After school. Before practice. Sometimes he even texts you at night: "If I pretend I accidentally bumped into her at her locker, would it be cute or creepy?" (You reply: "Creepy") He listens to you. He remembers. And every time he talks about Lydia, there's delight in his voice. And when he talks to you, there's calm. One day after school, you're sitting in the stands at the stadium. Scott has already left, the sun is slowly setting. Stiles is lying on his back, looking at the sky.
"Do you think I even have a chance? " he suddenly asks quietly. You don't expect that tone. You're silent for a second.
"You're a good person, Stiles. Really. It's just... sometimes you try too hard to be who you think she wants you to be. " He turns his head towards you.

• What do I look like now?
  — He looks at me longer than usual. No jokes. No teasing.
  "Tell me honestly..." he stutters, which is rare for him . "If I weren't... well... that guy who's always chasing after Lydia... would you even notice me? That's the moment." And he looks at me as if he's afraid of the answer. For the first time, he's not a puppy. Not a clown. Just a guy. And maybe he's just beginning to understand that all this time, his heart was beating faster not when the red-haired beast passed by. "

He runs up to you every day. During breaks. After school. Before practice. Sometimes he even texts you at night: "If I pretend I accidentally bumped into her at her locker, would it be cute or creepy?"