1. it was all about experiences. it was a necessity for you to feel. diamonds and gold didn’t move you as much as books and flowers. you liked wine in the morning, and coffee in the evening. you liked beethoven when you were happy, and trap music when you were sad. your laugh was light, but your mind was heavy. you spent so much time dreaming, and not enough time living in the moment.
2. your eyes were enchanting, but the words that came from your lips were even more captivating. gospel to the soul. water to the mind. i remembered every small detail about you, even though you thought it wasn’t important. funny thing is, you didn’t feel important, you didn’t know your purpose. if only you knew the power that existed in the little things you said and did. you’re a goddess. you’ll make a fine mother some day.
3. you were always a volcano waiting to happen, but somehow i was drawn to that. i was drawn to your passion, your spirit, your exuberance. i thought it was beautiful, they felt indifferent. they kept their distance because they thought you were destructive. they didn’t understand you, but i did. amidst all the confusion, i still chose you, but you chose to push me away. you left burns on my soul and left me picking pieces of myself off the ground. my mother always taught me not to play with fire. i wish i listened.
4. miss crystals and sage. miss zodiac. miss what is your moon, sun and rising in? miss let me see your chart, so i know it’s real. you’re appreciated. you taught me so much. your spirituality fueled me. your oneness with yourself inspired me. your awareness opened me, but your over analyzing closed me. you inadvertently disposed of me. ego killed our connection. can you imagine how far we would’ve gone if we both just swallowed our pride?
5. my first love. my soul mate. you opened my eyes to things that i didn’t even know existed. you opened my senses to feelings that i never even knew could be felt. our connection was intense, even though we weren’t together for long. but it’s hard to write about you. it’s hard to string together sentences and talk about you. a part of me feels like you don’t deserve my words, because you left without saying a word.
6. there is so much to you. i have seen the light and dark sides, the sun and the moon, but everything is undeniably beautiful. there was a gentleness about you, even in your rough moments, a softness about you, even after the way the past treated you. but i was young, naive, immature. i didn’t quite understand what love or friendship was. i didn’t quite understand myself. but you’re a good person, an angel. i hope you found someone who compliments your spirit.
7. strange. it never moved past friendship, but i’m glad that it never did. we were always better off as platonic companions. we mixed together well, without adding romance to the pot. it’s ironic that the reason we don’t talk as much anymore is because we decided not to take that plunge into the unknown. i miss your smile, your humor, your friendship. but i also understand that it’s okay to love someone from a distance.
You know what there’s not enough of? Canon compliant future fic where Stiles is a cop and he runs into Derek again. What’s that you say? There’s a ton of that?? Yes, true, but NOT ENOUGH.
“…. so then he says, ‘No, Officer, I swear to God this is the first time I’ve ever smoked up! I’ve never been in trouble with the law in my life! And I say, Billy, my man, you’ve been in trouble with me personally twice this month.” Stiles snorts at the memory. “Kid was so fucking high.”
Amanda must be halfway past tipsy, because she laughs uproariously into her beer at the mediocre punchline.
Stiles smiles. He’s satisfied with her reaction, with the warm murmur of the bar, with the buzz he’s got going… with just about everything, actually. After tonight, he’s looking at two full days off before he’s back on the beat, and the night’s still young. He leans back in his chair and takes a pull of his beer, savoring it.
Amanda glances towards the bar, probably considering a fourth round, and then visibly perks up as something near the front catches her eye.
“Oooh, Stiles,” she croons. “Look over at the door, like, just glance over.” She’s adjusted her gaze down at the table now, faking casual disinterest. Badly.
Stiles raises his eyebrows at her.
“This dude just walked in, he’s so your type,” she hisses. “C’mon, look! I’m telling you, six feet two inches of ‘yes, please, give it to me’ muscles, with some salt-and-pepper scruff icing. Unff.”
“Eh,” Stiles says, tipping his weight forward to hunch over the table. It’s not that he isn’t interested, exactly, but this is a cop bar and he doesn’t want to shit where he eats. Metaphorically.
“No, really,” Amanda insists. “He's… oh my God, he’s looking over here. He’s looking at you. Oh my God, Stiles, he’s coming over here!”
“No, he isn’t,” Stiles scoffs. He’s filled out a bit from high school and he’s finally competent at styling his hair, but he’s not that hot. Only Amanda’s sitting straight like a rod, eyes fixed on a point behind him that’s about where a six foot two man’s eyes would be.
He turns then, shooting to his feet before his brain’s quite caught up, because that voice is familiar like the back of his own hand.