The schitzo of beacon hills (teen wolf x male oc)

(Edited) Chapter 2: Strange Dreams

Azrael's walking through a graveyard. He has no clue how he got there, he just was. Surprisingly enough, the dark graveyard wasn't as scary to him as he thought it would be, he felt weirdly at home. He could feel, almost hear this strange, low hum come out of the ground, the graves.

The graveyard seems never ending, no matter where he looks all he sees are tombstones and fog.

All he can hear is the crunching leaves and dirt beneath his feet, the strange hum from the ground, and the quiet whistle of a breeze that isn't even there.

He has no clue how long he was aimlessly walking for, but one moment he was in the endless graveyard and with nothing more than a blink he was home, but not home. There are no old bloodstains on the wall- the ugly yellow paint on full display. The bitter smell of alcohol wasn't in the air. And the sounds of his fathers curses or snores weren't bouncing off the walls. It was silent.

He didn't even realise he was moving until he was across the upstairs hall, standing right in front of the pulled down ladder than leads to the attic. The old brown wood looks almost black, rotted. The yellow painted walls begin to turn that bloody-brown colour he's so used to, spreading along the floor and ceiling, cracks forming, falling apart to show a never ending void of darkness.

As the cracks grow closer - along with the void - he has nowhere else to go but up, quickly moving to grip the rotten wood before shakily climbing, speeding up as cracks begin to form on the ladders frame.

He manages to climb into the attic just as the ladder shatters, falling into the never ending darkness- the gap he climbed through acting as some sort of barrier, the darkness not being able to grow past it.

He stands back up after a moment of trying to calm his rapidly beating heart, turning his head to look around, some old bedside tables, lamps and pictures filling a majority of the space. All lit up by an old looking lightbulb, it's yellow glow illuminating the dusty space. Though, in the far right there are a couple of boxes unsteadily stacked on top of each other, all humming in the same way as the graveyard.

Walking over, he glances around uneasily, trying to figure out if the single light in the attic is about to die, thinking that's the source of the humming.

Just as he was about the reach the boxes, his head snaps to the side - pain blossoming in his cheek - his eyes snapping open to see his father standing over his laying form, his covers tangled around his body.

"Get the hell up!" His father yells, ripping the tangled covers away from his body, painfully pulling its tangled sheets off of his legs, harshly yanking Azrael's body down as he does so. "The hell do you think you're doing?" His father asks, his hold on the beer can in his left hand tightening. "Get the hell up and make me breakfast!" He pulls his sons disoriented form out of bed, a thud coming from his body when he hits the ground. Walking out of his sons bedroom, he aimlessly tosses the half full beer behind him, hitting his son directly in the head, slamming the door closed as he leaves his sons room.

"Fuck!" Azrael hisses, clutching his - now - broken nose, blood streaming from both nostrils and onto the floor. "Just do i-." He cuts himself off, cracking his nose back into place, tears unwilling falling from his eyes. "Fuck!" He hisses again, gripping the side of his bed with his right hand, his left squeezing his nostrils, trying to stop the blood from flowing.

After a minute of calming down, he stands up, the world becoming fuzzy for a moment - bile rising up his throat - before it returns to normal, the throb in his nose becoming less prominent with every waiting moment, the occasional crunch and crack coming from it as his body heals itself.

Stepping over the covers that were tossed to the ground, he walks over to his bathroom, only sparring a couple seconds as he cleans the blood from under his nose - his chin and neck included - before he walks back out of it, the throb in his nose becoming almost nonexistent.

He walks out of his bedroom and down the upstairs hall, coming to a stop as he walks right under the entrance to his attic, the same hum as in the dream filters into the back of his head, his dream replaying in his mind.

"The hell's taking you so long?!" His fathers yell breaks him out of his frozen state, his mind clearing and switching over to moving and making his fathers breakfast.

Not noticing as the attic entrance cracks open ever so slightly.

Scott was happy today, even at school. Lacrosse is going weirdly well. He found his missing inhaler last night with Stiles. But best of all.

Allison hit a dog with her car!

Not the hitting the dog part, that sucked, but the part where she turned up to where he worked, crying - again, not the good part - and showed him the injured dog in her trunk, it was only a minor break in its leg so it wasn't bad, he didn't have to feel that bad about be happy over a dogs misfortune.

No, the good part happened after he gave the dog a cast. She wore his sweatshirt since hers was soaked in rain. And she said yes to going to the party with him on Friday!

Though, his good mood was ruined by Jackson slamming his locker shut.

"All right, little man. How 'bout you tell me where you're getting your juice." He suggests, well, more silently orders.

"What?" Scott cluelessly asks.

"Where are you getting your juice?" Jackson asks again, saying every word like he's talking to a baby.

"My mom does all the grocery shopping." Scott tells him after a moment of silence, honestly never being more confused in his entire life.

"Now, listen, McCall, you're gonna tell me exactly what it is and who you're buying it from, because there's no way in hell you're kicking ass on the field like that without some sort of chemical boost." Jackson tells him, his voice raising with every word.

"Oh, you mean steroids." Scott realises, then becoming confused again. "Are you on steroids?"

"What the hell is going on with you, McCall?" Jackson yells, pushing Scott's back against the lockers.

"What going on with me? You really wanna know?" Scott asks, a confirming nod coming from Jackson as he lets go of the boys jersey. "Well, so would I! Because I can see, hear and smell things that I shouldn't be able to see, hear and smell. I do things that should be impossible, I'm sleep walking three miles into the middle of the woods, and I'm pretty much convinced that I'm totally out of my freaking mind!" Scott yells, sighing loudly, thankful that he said it out loud, even to the jerk off in front of him.

"You think you're funny. Don't you, McCall?" Jackson asks with an unamused chuckle. "I know you're hiding something. I'm gonna find out what it is." He tells him, frustration building in his chest. "I don't care how long it takes." He raises his fist, slamming it into the locker next to Scott's head before walking away with one more shove to Scott's shoulder, glaring at Azrael as he walks past him.

'So much testosterone.' The curly haired boy thinks in distaste. 'How nauseating.' He thinks, walking in the opposite direction of the lacrosse tryouts, already having his fill of over the top testosterone for the day.

'Lycaon' Stiles types into his computer after coming home from the lacrosse tryouts. Both the wolf hairs on the half of a dead body Scott found and his friends sudden physical capability, on top of him saying he was bitten by a wolf leads to only one conclusion in his mind. Werewolf.

(Sorry it's kinda short, I left the last chapter off halfway through the first episode, and the other half didn't really have many openings for Azrael, so it's shorter.)
(Also, idk who the love interest (or interests?) should be. Gimmie you're suggestions.)