when the wolves are howling | {closed}
It had been happening for weeks. Stiles would come home late night from a gig, utterly exhausted but still wide awake. That was when he would find himself outside, in the cool night air and lighting a cigarette and watching the raven haired girl who lived downstairs from him. He had only been in the apartment for a few months so his neighbours were still mysteries, just the way he liked them. Except for one. She was a mystery but he found himself watching her these nights.
There was always a book in her hands and she always looked immersed in the stories that were weaved within it's pages. Stiles found himself jealous of the book as he watched her. To have her attention and hold it for such a long period of time was something to be envious of. Even though it wasn't good for him, Stiles would light cigarette after cigarette just to catch a glimpse of her. From what he did see, he learned absolutely nothing and it frustrated him to no end.
After a few weeks it became infuriating. Stiles hated not knowing something, he had a natural thirst for knowledge and observation wasn't doing it for him anymore. He had been watching her for ten minutes and still, nothing was revealed about her. All he knew that she liked to read late at night in the starlight. When he made his mind up, the butterflies started in his stomach, making him feel sick with nerves. Curiosity got the better of him though and he made his way down the fire escape. She didn't even look up and he doubted it was because he was sneaky, the book must've been that good.
Once he was close enough, Stiles leaned against the stair railing, a few steps away from her form. "What are you reading?" He asked, pulling another cigarette from the pack and bringing it to his lips.
