Simply Steter

A Product Of My Psychosis

The sky is blue. That's an unarguable fact- sure you can argue that technically the sky is just a reflection of light filtered through the atmosphere. But even then, when you look up you see blue. Ergo, the sky is blue.

On average people have ten fingers and ten toes. A common fact. Something that is tangible and can be pointed out.

These are the things that help Stiles get by day to day. The sky is blue, he has ten fingers, and water is wet. He makes sure not to get too caught up in details, but not to lose focus so much his world blurs. It's how he stays present and avoids his episodes. Because there are only so many times you can call your Dad about werewolves wanting to kill your friends before your Dad's looks of worry turn into annoyance.

So he counts and repeats.

The sky is blue. That's an inarguable fact. On average people have ten fingers and ten toes. A common fact.

Oh, and water is wet.

"Why do I always find you alone in the woods, little Fox?"

Stiles likes to think that God has a laid out plan for everyone- a grand picture that creates something beautiful. But then he looks at Peter, the boy who always seemed too big for the small town of Beacon Hills. The boy who never conformed to society and had snark that was always a little too sharp. And Stiles can't help but wonder what God's plan was when he tied down someone so grand and bright to a place that's small and dull.

But then he remembers that God made him- someone who sees invisible people and is one forgotten pill from a meltdown- so obviously God isn't as benevolent as his Mother made Him out to be.

"Because I refuse to let you crawl through my window, Peter," Stiles' voice soft while he listens to the grass shift as Peter sits next to him.

Sometimes Stiles thinks Peter isn't real. That someone that just fits, can't be real. No matter how many times his Dad says there actually are Hale's that live in Beacon Hills. And there actually is a Peter Hale. But then Stiles will feel the weight of Peter's hand as he holds his, and feel his breath on the back of his neck. And all of a sudden Stiles knows.

The sky is blue. Water is wet. And Peter Hale is real.

His therapist says not to add people to his unequivocal fact list. That it can cause some issues to his stability, since people leave and change all the time. Also since people is where Stiles psychosis lies. But when Peter whispers how he loves him and will never leave. When he tells stories about how they can go up to Canada and visit a cabin his grandparents own. Just the two of them. In those moments Stiles likes to think that it's okay to add a person to his list- add Peter to his list.

"I'll wear you down eventually Stiles, it's only a matter of time," Peter's laugh easily as he lets his arm wrap around Stiles shoulders. The weight of his arm grounding Stiles as they both look through the trees towards the sky.

The sky is blue. Water is wet.

"I love you Peter Hale."

Peter lets his lips turn towards Stiles neck as he lets a smile slip over his features. Before he peck his cheek before standing up. "I love you too."

The sky is blue.

"Thanks."

Peter looks towards Stiles, his eyebrow lifting in question, "For what?"

Stiles looks at Peter, taking in his too bright blue eyes and smoothed out smile. How his hair was neat, not a single strand out of place, and his clothes wrinkle free.

"For not being a product of my psychosis."

Peter gives a nod, his hand going to touch Stiles cheek, then he turns and walks away. His steps silent as he makes his way back in the direction of the Hale house.

Stiles turns back towards the sky, his one hand going down to the untouched grass next to him as he wraps the other around a black tie. His knuckles are pure white.

"Stiles, what are you doing here alone?," Scott's voice ringing out as he approaches Stiles- his black suit holding wrinkles from use and his hand holding a funeral pamphlet. The Hale crest facing outward and the image beneath of a man. His eyes bright blue, and his smile smooth.

The sky is blue. That's an inarguable fact. On average people have ten fingers and ten toes. A common fact.

Oh, and water is wet.