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Stiles PoV
There are these connection, lines that have been drawn and wars that have made sheep walk with wolfs. There are ties that are unbreakable, and dreams that are damage and hope that seems everlasting. Then there are enemies that we're once friends and friends that became enemies. Wars are started and lines are drawn only to be crossed cause we would rather be your friend then your enemy don't start a war you can't win cause one suicide can't be replace with another or so my mother once spoke of.
There are these lines that have been drawn, wars that have started and blood that has been shed even though it was not innocent. "Do you want the bite?"
The monster held my wrist in his hand a slow burn where his fingers wrapped around my wrist, my pulse throbbing against his finger as he held it closet to his gleaning white fangs. "No." Even though I knew he heard my heart skip a beat with the lie I spoke. I knew deep down I really didn't want it.
"You would be a magnificent wolf, I know deep down you would never cherish it like the gift it is, even though you're bright and clever the wolf would grow restless, but you would make an excellent mate." the beast spoke bright crimson shining as my wrist fall from his hands. "Adore Derek for his loyalty and his faults. Honor his wolf and protect his pack Stiles as if it were your own." That was the first time I saw humanity in the eyes of the barbarian name Peter Hale.
There are these lines that have been drawn and lines that have been cross cause there are no longer black and white nor gray areas of this place I call home. There are wars that start and end and then begin again. There are dreams that are lost and hope that's fried at the end of the rope and strings that burn in the middle.
"I'll become part of your pack but were doing it my way. We're going to save Jackson."
My eyes linger on my best friend only to move to Derek's as my arms grip Erica that much tighter as Isaac rested his head on my shoulder.
These lines that have been cross don't make you strong or weak they make you human even though you walk with wolfs in sheep skin. There are enemies that you trie to make friend cause bonds have been form and lines have been crossed even though lies have have been told.
"I don't want to be angry with you when I'm already disappointed."
"Dad... Dad please," I whisper.
Cause though the lines and the lies there are loss. There are tributes of what's right and what's wrong and things in between.
"You we're silence through the whole ride."
"I'm fine. Everything's fine." I whisper when it's far from the truth.
When lines are drawn and lies are spoke when dose it stop being about truths that are shaded gray any ways. Or when lines are drawn and crossed only to let's dreams fall away like dust in the wind. Where friends were enemies and enemies were friends and knots that tied ones together fall apart when lines were no longer drawn.
The End.