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

(Edited) Chapter 3: Daydreams

Azrael hates everyone and everything. His father's in a particularly bad mood today, which is surprising considering it's only the morning, the gashes along his forearm and waist as proof, along with the yellowish-green bruises scattered around his body.

Opening his bathroom cabinet, he reaches for his good friend, Advil. Pausing when he sees his Antipsychotics, his name printed on the white label wrapped around the orange tube.

He stands there for a moment, his hand hovering between the Antipsychotics and Advil, debating whether or not he should take them.

What if I really am just crazy? What if I'm just a psycho like people say? What if everything everyone else has been telling me my entire life is true?

These questions run through his mind, his hand gravitating to the tube with his name labelled on it.

Just as he's about to grasp the tube, the same hum from his dream filters into his mind, guiding his hand towards what will truly relieve his pain. The hum pushing away all the thoughts of him being crazy out of his head, his mind relaxing into its dark embrace.

"Wait!" A young Azrael Dark calls out to the dark haired woman walking out of his room. "Don't turn off the light." He tells her as she reaches for the light switch. She turns her head, her perfectly shaped brows furrowing in confusion.

"Why not?" She asks, turning so she's facing the boy.

"I... I don't like the dark." He admits, pulling his blanket over his lower face, watching as the woman walks back over to his bed.

"You're scared?" She asks, sitting down on his bed, brushing her hands through his curly hair, a nod coming from the boy. "You have no need to be scared of the dark, my little ghost." She tells him with a gentle smile, watching as he starts to come out of the covers, his mouth now being visible.

"Why?" He asks, his brows furrowing, his dark brown eyes peering up at her curiously.

"'Why'?" She hums his question back to him, smiling wider as she watches her sons eyes flutter as he relaxes. "Because the darkness is where me and you thrive." She whispers, leaning down to kiss his temple, a faint green glow connecting his temple to her lips, forming a green web of energy between the two as she pulls away. "Sweet dreams, little ghost." And with a flick of her wrist the lights turn off, her sons quiet snores filling the silence, a faint green glow coming from his closed eyes.

His mind clears of its dark yet gentle embrace. His body doesn't hurt anymore. Every gash and bruise on his body is gone, like it was never even there. Actually, he feels better than he has in months. His body feels weirdly energised, like he's just had a hit of adrenaline.

Glancing up he sees that he moved so he's standing under the attic in his weird state, only now noticing that it's entrance is cracked open.

Reaching up, intending to close it, he notices that the attic is humming in the same energy that's been in the back of his head since his dream. He notices that the closer his hand gets, the more energy starts to fill his body.

"Azrael!" His fathers voice booms through the house, stopping him from pulling open the attic and with it coming it's ladder. "Wear a sweater to school, make sure nobody s-." The man cuts himself off as he walks up the stairs, stopping when he notices all the harm he inflicted upon his son is gone, but most importantly, that he's reaching for the partially open attic. "What are you doing?" He sneers out, rushing up the stairs to slam the cracked open attic closed, his heart beating unhealthily fast in panic.

"It-It was open, I was closing it." The boy lies, trying to back away from his clearly angry father, all the frustration he worked out earlier back tenfolds. "I'm sorry." He instinctively apologies, slightly flinching when his father harshly turns to face him.