@redefinereality because I love you.
Wow, anxiety.
Always hit Stiles like walking into a brick wall drunk on Fireball.
Painful firey chest burning à la headache, yup, that’s what college orientation felt like.
Was he excited? Oh, hell yeah. Taking the walk in his father’s footsteps one mile higher, diving into forensics. Being out of that god forsaken high school where he was trash canned till he had that diploma in his hand. Never having to see the inside of a toilet bowl from a diver’s view again. He hoped.
Yet, the anxiety still scraped at his lungs.
New school, new city, new routine, new roommate. What if he wasn’t as good at this as he thought he was? What if he never gets the hang of his way around? What if the dude he’s forced to spend the next four to six years of his life with, can’t stand him?
He needed to breathe. Count his fingers and breathe. Adjusting the small box of essentials under his arm and the strap of his messenger bag around his opposite shoulder. He took one final, yoga worthy, inhale as his hand wrapped around the door knob to his assigned dorm. Closing his eyes to brace himself for what who was hidden behind it. He kinda hoped the dude wouldn’t be around. But he didn’t have that kinda luck. Dammit.
“Hey! You...must be Scott? Stiles.” The freshman quirkily introduced himself, holding his hand out as a peace offering and nearly tripping over his own bag as it slipped off his shoulder. Annnd there went the box — to the floor — with his family pictures... and his laptop ... and his highly collectible Dark Luke Skywalker figure — f a n t a s t i c.
So this is how college is gonna be.