aluminum baseball bat is twirled betwixt fumbling fingertips ; an exhausted gaze held ‘pon the features of the angel asleep in his bed . had she laid awake for him before finding herself succumbing to slumber ? his chest wrenched at the thought . wolf - muzzle mask and bat are discarded at the foot of his bed frame , tired limbs working his shirt up and over his head as he retrieves his pyjamas from his bedroom floor . ( ever the messy boy he always was . ) “ --------- lyds , ” stiles hears himself utter into the darkness of the room , sliding into bed beside her and reaching , blindly , for her warmth .
@shryks















