If you read my Stiles fic, Sandcastles, you'll know that I said that I couldn't update this week but the thing I was supposed to be doing today was cancelled so here I am!
I reaaaally love this one.
*
It all started when he'd see her in his dreams. Hair blowing into her face while the two of them ran through a seemingly never-ending sea of bright green grass and daisies.
She always looked so beautiful. Always. Scott was jealous, quite frankly. How could someone look so breathtaking 24 hours a day? Dreams can be a pretty amazing thing, Scott decided.
Soon he began, or at least he pretended, to see her in real life. He'd be walking through the halls of school and think he'd catch a glimpse of her amongst the crowd. Then at home, peering around a corner while he was trying to do his math homework.
He didn't think much of it, or her, figuring everyone got this strange girl or boy only they could see. But his mother soon set him straight.
"Not all 10 year old's have imaginary friends!" She'd say. "Its strange for someone your age!"
He didn't think it was strange, but he didn't want to disappoint his mother, so he pretended he couldn't see the beautiful girl running about in his life, even if it killed him to.
When he had his best friend Stiles over one night, he could hear his mother and Stiles' father talking in the kitchen while they played with Leggo's in his room.
"He'll grow out of it," Stiles' father had said. "Stiles had one for a couple of months. He's over it now. Just give him time."
Scott didn't want to get over it, get over her.
As time went by, Scott's mother had assumed he had forgotten about his mysterious imaginary friend, but it was just that Scott had stopped talking about her. He hadn't forgotten. He couldn't even if he tried.
It was approximately seven years later when he was sitting in class one morning, not exactly paying attention until the classroom door opened with a creak. Everyone in the room turned their head to see the principal walk in with a girl following close behind.
His eyes narrowed on her, and he almost choked on air when he caught sight of her face. She was the split image of that imaginary friend he had when he was ten, the one he most certainly hadn't forgotten about even though he didn't see her anymore.
She sat down at the desk right in front of him and he had to sit on his hands in order to stop himself from lunging himself at her.
She suddenly held up a folded piece of paper, waving it slightly toward Scott's direction in a way to say it was for him. He slipped it out of her fingertips before the teacher saw, and carefully unfolded it, reading over the words she had written in a dull pink pen.
Do I know you?
