"You, my friend, have Stockholm Syndrome." Brittany decided, cocky smirk tugging on her lips as she rested her head in her hands. She sat by (Y/n)'s mattress on the floor of Stiles' room where the two of them were talking. 

"What's that?" She questioned, eyebrows furrowed and curious as to what it could be. 

"A psychological phenomenon in which hostages express sympathy and have positive feelings toward their captors," Brittany explained, "Sometimes to the point of defending the captors." 

"I have Stockholm Syndrome...?" (Y/n) mumbled, more to herself than anything, testing to see how it felt on her tongue. 

"You do not," Stiles muttered suddenly as he walked into the room, tossing a bloody cloth onto his desk and turning to the pair. "Stop putting things into her head, Brittany." 

Brittany held her hands up in defense, smirking at Stiles, "You know its true, buddy. A hostage just doesn't come running back to their kidnapper on their own terms. There's gotta be some sort of feelings mixed in there somewhere." 

"You need to leave," Stiles spoke to his friend, eyes narrowing on her as he took a step toward the pair. "My father will be home soon, and I'm sick of you drilling false information into (Y/n)'s head."

"Walk me out?" Brittany asked, smiling slightly at the boy as she got to her feet. When Stiles nodded after he rolled his eyes dramatically at her, she turned to (Y/n), "I'll see ya later. Its been nice talking to you." 

Before (Y/n) could reply, Stiles was leading Brittany out of the room and downstairs. 

The pair made their way over to the front door where Stiles tugged it open, allowing Brittany to walk out. Before Stiles shut the door again, Brittany turned to face her friend, "Be careful, okay? The last thing we need is you falling in love with her." 

"I'm not going to fall in love with her." He insisted, voice growing angry. Brittany didn't look so convinced, but he didn't feel the need to try and do so. It wasn't her he needed to convince. 

It was himself. 

Brittany raised her eyebrows at him, but Stiles shut the door before he had the time to say anything else. He needed to get his mind off (Y/n), and there was only one way to do such a thing. 

To get his hands on another girl. 

 ☩ 

"W-What's going on?" Was mumbled from the girls lips, voice wavering as they did so. "What are you going to do to me?" 

"I'm not in love with her, I'm not in love with her, I'm not in love with her." Stiles shuffled around the room, mumbling the same words over and over to himself as he gathered up equipment. 

He was completely ignoring the girl tied to the chair, too much on his mind and too worried about the fact that he couldn't find his God damn chef's knife. He slammed his fists on the counter top, letting out a frustrated groan before blindly reaching for a carving knife instead. 

"I'm not in love with her." He hissed, stalking over to the girl who had began to cry. With every sob that left her lips, he began to grow more and more irritated. The sounds were getting annoying, sounding much too loud for such a confined space. 

He pointed to knife in her direction, a hope that maybe it might shut her up, but it only made her cries louder, and that was the last straw for Stiles. 

He stepped up to the girl, locking eyes with her before pressing the end of the knife to her chest, right by her heart. Her breath hitched, sobs cutting off suddenly and Stiles was relishing in the silence that settled over the room. 

He pressed it harder into her skin, a sickening smile tugging at his lips as the girl began to scream out. She tried to scream out for help, but they soon turned to ones of pain when he drove the knife deeper. 

"Stop!" She cried, loud and piercing Stiles' ears. 

He screwed his eyes shut, bracing one of his hands on her shoulders before pushing the knife into her skin, drawing it back and in again over and over until her cries subsided into silence. He pulled the knife from her body, letting it clatter to the floor before his eyes slipped open. 

Blood was everywhere, splattered over his shirt and covering his arms and it was probably on his face too but he couldn't bring himself to care too much. It had completely exhausted him, so he decided to clean up his mess in the morning. 

Leaving the body resting in the chair, he rubbed his hands on his pants before making his way back upstairs and to his room where (Y/n) was lying on the mattress. Their gazes' locked, and her eyes widened when she saw the state he was in. 

He sucked in a breath, and the thing Stiles tired desperately to suppress suddenly slipped from his lips. 

"I think I'm in love with you." 

* * * 

A/n: ohhhh its happening people!!! 

Also- We hit 9k reads on this story!! Thank you all so so so much for sticking around and reading x