Stiles' palms were sweating, he already rubbed them on his school uniform pants, the once pressed black slacks were a mess of wrinkles that Professor Harris would gleeful take demerits for an endless amount of Saturday afternoon detentions. He checks his watch again. And then back at the school's entrance gate. A couple of early bird keeners are locking up their bikes but no sign of his heart's desire. He pulls out the crinkled lined loose leaf paper again and tries to smooth out the most glaring wrinkles. In decisive ball point blue is written his intentions. His heart's plea for his love to be returned.
Well, it's a haiku. He thought Lydia would appreciate the symmetry.
He scoured the entire public library for poetry and chewed on half a dozen pens to get to this point. This day. The day he finally confesses his ardent love for her. Today's the day she notices him. These years of pining from a distance. He's marked it on the calendar. The day he finds the courage to finally say it. And not just practice it in his room with his limited edition Batman doll.
He lets out another shuddering sigh and folds the poem into an origami frog. It's really the only one he can make. The flower one always ends up looking like a crumpled ball. It sits merrily in the palm of his hand. Looking down, he steels his resolve. He can do this. He just needs to get it all out. And once it's in the air, Lydia can do what she wants with it. Stiles really hopes she'll take his heart to keep. He's really hoping for that outcome.
His ears perk at the sound of her chime like laughter. And like a vision he sees her walk through the school's gates, arm in arm with her co-compatriot, Allison. Stiles takes a steadying breath. He can say it in front of an audience. Allison isn't the type to be cruel. They're walking towards him. Stiles steps forward. It's now or never.
"I know that you don't know me, but I love you, and if you give me a chance, I think the possibility of us can be something amazing," he stutters out quite coherently. He may have closed his eyes. He figures points should be given for the fact that the hand holding the poem is held out towards her.
There's a pause.
No giggling, which Stiles takes as a good sign.
But just eerie silence.
After a beat, Stiles hazards a chance to crack open his eyes and look up. Only to be staring right into the intense green eyes of Derek Hale. Captain of the lacrosse team Derek Hale. Senior Derek Hale. Rumored gang leader Derek Hale. Derek Hale who is regarding Stiles with a quiet intensity.
"Urgh," Stiles manages to stutter out. His head jerking to the left where Allison and Lydia are almost at the school's front entrance. They didn't even stop when they passed Stiles by.
Derek stopped. He just declared his affection to Derek Hale.
Stiles pales. He feels woozy. Maybe he should just pass out and save himself the embarrassment.
Derek hasn't stopped looking at him. Stiles takes a step back. If Derek is going to beat him up, he'd rather it not happen in front of the school. Or anytime. Stiles has a rather low tolerance to pain.
He lowers his hand, debating on eating the paper frog to save himself some embarrassment, when Derek's hand grabs it. It feels like a hot brand, warmth seeping into his body, making him shiver. Stiles' eyes shoot up and catch Derek's green ones.
Stiles' brain stops. It feels like an out of body experience. Derek Hale is opening the poem. Derek Hale is reading the poem. Derek Hale is smiling at Stiles. Derek Hale never smiles. Fellow students have often remarked he doesn't have the ability. The smile itself is an amazing one. Derek should do it more often. It's really quite lethal. Stiles' heart is thundering in his throat. His life is flashing before his eyes.
What did any of this mean?
Thank God the bell rang.