A/n: Approximately 80 of you asked for a part two for my last Stiles imagine so as promised, here's just that. Enjoy! x
* * *
5 was the amount of days you went before you finally reached onto your dresser and retrieved Stiles' blue jumper.
While sadness still lingered over your head from the break up, you longed for the comforting smell that was Stiles. You thought that being engulfed in the blue fabric would help aid the grief, but it only seemed to push you over the edge.
Whilst collapsing to the ground, sobs washed over your body and it felt as though you had fallen into the ocean. The sea breeze was whipping at your face, the salt stinging your eyes and the waves constantly crashing into your chest make it hard to breathe.
You were drowning in the memories, the hushed secrets shared at two in the morning, the feeling of his fingers tracing the curves of your body.
Many people say that sadness is beautiful but not this. No, this is far from beautiful. This is suffocating. This is the feeling of dread and restlessness constantly tugging you back into the deep end and right now you wanted nothing more than to drown.
4 was the amount of times Stiles walked past that same ice cream parlour that the two of you went to for your first date.
The first couple of times were by mere accidents, but by the time he reached a fourth, he knew he was simply torturing himself.
He stood outside, eyes narrowing on the booth by the window where the two of you had sat. He let his mind wonder, and like a memory coming to life he saw a couple sit down in the same seats. They looked happy, Stiles thinks.
The girl reached over and took a spoon full of the guys'. The guy brought his own spoon to his mouth, the ice cream slipping off and landing on his jumper. The girl was in a fit of giggles, unable to catch her breath as the guy desperately tried to rub the cream off his clothing. Once she'd calmed down, Stiles caught her lips mumbling a simple I love you and it was then that he realised that this wasn't just any couple.
That was he and Y/n.
3 days after that, Stiles had had enough.
He'd had enough of suffering through miserable days, the crying and the regret. He wished things had turned out differently, wish he'd tried harder.
Now, there was only one thing he could do.
You got a text from the all too familiar number one afternoon, asking for a second chance. You'd given in too easily, agreeing to meet him at the ice cream parlour. Still clad in his blue jumper, you shuffled into the busy shop an hour later and saw him sitting in the window booth.
A cup of your favourite ice cream sat opposite him, a cup of his own favourite sitting in front of him. Despite your rapid heartbeat and slightly shaky hands, you sat.
Then, for the first time in weeks, you spoke to him.
"Hi."
2 was the amount of words it took to fix things.
I'm sorry. That's all it took.
The two of you blurted it out at the same time, the two words and two voices syncing with each other to become one beautiful melody. You smiled, and upon catching his gaze you didn't feel like you were drowning any more.
He'd ripped you from that terrible place and sat you back on dry land and you couldn't be more thankful.
1 kiss sealed the deal.
Stiles had walked you home, and once you'd made it there you both paused by the front door. He took his hands in yours, eyes locking and then the two of you were naturally leaning closer to each other.
With your lips pressed to his, the world was switched to silent and everything aligned again. Happiness overpowered the sadness, a smile overpowered the tears. Things were better again, and you suddenly realised that being in his arms was far better than being wrapped in his jumper.
"I love you," He said. "I always have, and I always will."
