"We had a misunderstanding last time."
"You think?"
"It is because it is." Stiles pressed the issue, stepping coser to Pan, amber eyes almost burning, as if he wanted to see deep into Pan’s soul. "I want to know why do you care so much about me. And my so-called-walls. Why is it any buisness of yours? Or you just see me as a challenge? Because in that case drop it. Now. I’m not a toy to be picked apart just for fun to see what makes me tick."
Pan retreated a little when Stiles stepped closer, clearly unable to cope with the situation. He only stared at the other, his words hitting him like whip lashes. His teeth dug into his lower lip without Pan noticing, the rest of his body turned cold. "I...", he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I just like you, okay?!" Pan didn't know what it meant. If there was anyone who knew Pan the least, it was himself.












