To Pluto's Moon

Stiles awoke with a start, trembling and breathless. A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead as he knit his brows together, trying to process what he had seen.

“What the hell was that?” he breathed. Stiles rose out of bed tired and weak, sluggishly dragging his feet across the floor and into the hall. Sheriff Stilinski emerged from the bathroom, towel drying his hair. He stopped short of walking into Stiles, apologizing briefly before steering his gaze down. He narrowed his eyes and scrunched up his face in disgust.

“Really Stiles?” Sheriff tossed the towel at him, landing directly on his face. “Take a shower... for Christ’s sake,” he mumbled, shaking his head as he walked away. Stiles ripped the towel off of his head, whirling around to stare bewilderingly at his father's retreating form. His eyes lowered down and made contact with a sight that made his cheeks and ears burn red. He tore into the bathroom and turned the light on, revealing a large, wet stain on the crotch of his pants.

“Did I –“ Stiles hurriedly jumped into the shower, desperately trying to scrub off the shame he knew he'd feel every time he saw his father. As soon as he finished getting ready, he ran straight for the door, lowering his head as he went.. Sheriff unfortunately had the same idea, as they met in the hallway and awkwardly made eye contact.

“Son, are you having...” he cleared his throat, “issues?” Kill me now.

“No dad, it's – I'm not...”

“If you need to go to the doctor, it's okay. You're seventeen and wet –“

“I didn't piss myself dad!” Sheriff's eyes open wide in understanding.

“Oh. OH.” They both averted eye contact, as an excruciating moment passed through them.

“Do we need to have...the talk?” Stilinski asked uncomfortably.

“God, dad no! I'm leaving!” Stiles exclaimed as he opened the door and escaped down the driveway to his Jeep. As soon as he got to school, he planted on a calm facade for Scott, but his heart racing betrayed his words.

“Alright, what's up? You're acting so friggin weird, man.”

“Weirder than usual?” Lydia piped in, joining them on their way to class.

“I just...I had a weird dream last night. Like it doesn't even make any sense, I've never seen her before.”

“Seen who?” Malia asked, approaching them.

“I don't know. That's the problem.” The two looked at each other for a long moment, unsure of where they stood and Stiles, unsure if he should even be telling Malia what happened. The four awkwardly entered the classroom and took their seats. Scott and Stiles sat next to each other, with Lydia sitting in front of Scott. Malia eyed the open seat next to Stiles on his right-hand side, but instead opted for the seat in front of Lydia. Malia kicked herself immediately for not taking the first step to fix things. It's so simple. It didn't have to mean anything, it's just a fucking seat. It was over. Her pride would not let her get up, draw attention to herself and admit a mistake. So instead, Malia kept her eyes glued to the front of the classroom, refusing to turn around.

Stiles stared at the side of her face, half hurt, half relieved. It really is over. She doesn't even want to be near me. Scott, noticing the tension, snapped his fingers in front of Stiles' face and smiled.

“You can't just stop in the middle of a story.” And just like that Stiles felt butterflies bubble in his gut. He was excited to be talking about her. He wanted to know more about her, and he couldn't place how he could have crossed paths with her and not have embedded her image in his mind.

“Alright, alright. So, it's...I...I had a dream that made – you know,” Stiles gestured as subtly as he could to Scott.

“OH. Oooh. Yeah that is weird, you're seventeen and it's not like you haven't – ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know dude shut up. Just,” Stiles shook his head and exhaled forcefully, attempting to figure out a way to explain this correctly. “I was at my house, right? And it was dark and cold, like a rainy fall day. There wasn't really even any sound or feeling, it was just void –”

Scott and Lydia eyed each other, exchanging concerned expressions. Stiles realized what he said and clenched his jaw, moving on immediately.

“So I was just sitting at my desk, wrapping red thread around my finger...And then I hear the doorbell ring. I head downstairs and place my hand on the doorknob and it's warm. And in the dream I'm wondering if there's a fire or something outside, because it just felt so unnatural. I'm standing there staring at the damn thing until the doorbell rings again and I open the door and this girl is there smiling at me. It's warm all around her. The sky outside is bright blue and the sun looks like it's shining directly on her – she looked like an angel.”

“Hey, would everyone shut up? It's 8 am, why are you guys so damn chipper?” Coach bellowed from the front of the classroom. He continued to mutter some obscenities and opened the door as a knock resounded from the other side.

“Maybe she was an angel,” Lydia stated as she divided her attention between Coach's bewildered expression at whoever stood in the hallway and Stiles' story.

“So anyway, we're looking at each other. She's still smiling at me and I'm just trying to memorize every detail of her face, because regardless if my mind made her up or I saw her online somewhere...she's the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my entire existence. Like I cannot even explain it to you. It was like she was glowing from the inside out and I could not will myself to look away or even speak. But then she did.”

“And what did she say?” Scott was captivated, completely intrigued and leaning forward toward Stiles.

“She said my name,” he stated, a ghost of a smile creeping on the corners of his mouth. “And then she asked if she could come in. I stepped aside quickly and said, 'Yes, of course.' I swear as soon as she stepped into my house, everything lit up. My dream looked like a dream. It was all warm and wispy and everything, including me, had a like hazy glow to it. And she put her hand on my face and caressed it. Throughout this entire thing I'm just confused as hell. So I finally ask her like, hey what are you doing? And she tells me that she's waiting for me to decide. Like how cryptic is that?”

“That sounds like a riddle, Stiles,” Lydia chimed in before diverting her attention to the ruckus at the front of the classroom. Scott knit his eyebrows together, noticing her surprised expression and peers over to see what she's looking at.

“I know. So then I just lean in and kiss her –”

“So we have a new student...at the end of the year. Who transfers their kid to a new school their senior year? Are your parents sadists?”

“And her lips are soft and sweet like honey, she smells amazing.”

“This is Naeya – how on earth do you pronounce your last name? Well just sit next to whoever you want, I don't care.”

“Hey – are you guys listening?” Stiles, annoyed, waved his hand in front of Scott's face, but his attention was somewhere else. Stiles peered around and looked to Lydia and Malia, whose eyes were tracking movement that was going toward him. “Guys?”

“Really? You want to sit next to Stiles?” Avery asked incredulously from the back of the classroom. Avery is an asshole, one of those obnoxious popular kids that never sees past high school glory days. Stiles made eye contact with Scott who, with eyebrows raised, motioned him to turn around. Stiles felt anxious, his palms sweaty. He turned around reluctantly, assuming the worst, because that's just what happens at Beacon Hills. But then out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of white. Stiles fully turned toward her, not able to see her face, because of the curtain of brown hair covering it. A delicate hand reached up, tucked her hair behind her ear and rested back down onto her desk. Stiles followed this movement as if it were in slow motion, following her hand before peering back up and zeroing in on the familiar beauty mark above her lip. She turned around and smiled warmly at him, before returning her attention back to the front of the classroom where Coach had already begun teaching.

Stiles' heart beat loudly in his chest as he watched how the breath escaped her lips, how her eyelashes met and separated as she blinked, the growing rosiness in her cheeks. He felt the word escape his mouth before he realized he was speaking.

“Hey.” She turned around, biting her lip as she looked at him. Damn.

“Hey, Stiles.” He inhaled deeply and clenched his jaw. Stiles looked to Scott and mouthed, it's her. Scott straightened up in his seat and glanced at Malia, who was watching intently, and angrily, from her seat. He could sense the intense jealously radiating from her, even as she turned to face the window in the opposite direction. Meanwhile, Lydia was scrutinizing the situation as it unraveled. Curious, but incredibly suspicious, Lydia willed herself to see the girl's intentions. You couldn't trust anybody new at Beacon Hills.

Stiles turned around to see the girl, head tilted, examining him. He felt as if she could see right through him and it made him feel naked. She must have noticed his discomfort, because she smiled again and stuck out her hand.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Naeya.” Stiles felt the familiar warmth of last night's dream creep up his arm as his hand touched hers. Her voice was like liquid gold, smooth and soft, just like her hand.

“I – I know.”