It was weird.
One minute he had just been, nothing, a cell floating along, an idea in a little boy’s head, a dream, a want a wish and then suddenly, he had been this living, breathing Corporeal thing, sitting in a sandbox beside another little boy, Scott. See that’s the thing about a child’s imagination, a child’s want and belief is the most powerful and most underestimated gift life gives. Yet here he was Small, skinny and pale and Scott was smiling at him.
“Stiles” That’s what Scott called him and so that was his name, Scott told him that he five and so that’s how he first became Stiles a five year old sat in a sand box with his new best friend. When Scott’s mum walked over to take him home, she glanced over Stiles as if he wasn’t there, but soon enough her eyes flew back to him with a small confused smile, as if she wasn’t sure why she had missed him in the first place.
“Scott, who’s your friend?”
“This is Stiles, my best friend.” Scott announced it so proudly, that Stiles mouth spread into a smile showing all his teeth.
“Uh-huh and where are your parents hunnie?” He stood frozen for a second, parents? He looked over to Scott who had his face screwed up for a second before his face was taken over by a grin.
“Don’t you remember mum, this is Stiles, Mr and Mrs Stilinski’s son.” His mother looked confused for a second but before she could speak again, her eyes blew wide and she smiled and then he was just Stiles Stilinski. He suddenly had a mum and dad and they loved him they held him, fed him clothed him and they never asked where the small child they called their son came from, he just was. See that’s the thing about want and belief, it can give a small child a best friend and it can give the couple he often saw around town the child they had always wanted. No need for staring longingly at the park anymore, or crying when a pregnant woman walked by, because Scott was sharing Stiles.
weird great, he had a best friend, a house, a family and batman pyjamas, it didn’t matter that sometimes it felt like he just stopped, that he didn’t dream and when he closed his eyes, he wasn’t sure where he went but everything was dark. It didn’t matter because every morning he was back downstairs, eating breakfast with his parents and then spending his day’s playing with Scott. Scott who acted like they had been best friends their entire lives, like he couldn’t remember that Stiles had just appeared in the sandpit.
“Stiles, stiles” Scott would yell at him as they chased each other around the house, spending hour after hour, playing pirates, cops and robbers and even superheroes. They loved playing Superheroes, one time they were playing and Scott just looked at Stiles his face sort of screwed up in concentration and suddenly Stiles was floating a few inches above the floor, only to come crashing back down when Melissa walked back in.
“Boys no jumping off the furniture.” She had yelled, as they grinned at each other before running upstairs to carry on playing. Yeah life was good.
“Im sorry- “The doctors would never really tell him anything, daddy would make him sit outside whilst they talked, but when he would sneak looks through the windows he knew something was wrong, something had to be wrong otherwise why would mummy be crying. She’s been sleeping a lot lately, or at least she said she had been but when he’d gone into her room she had just been led there, she kept forgetting where she had put the car keys and one day she forgot to send him to school, the same day she had forgotten the food in the oven. Something was wrong.
He didn’t know what to do, his dad had stopped laughing at his jokes, he would snap at him, sometimes he would get a fake smile from his mum but it wasn’t real, after all he’s the expert on what’s real. He didn’t know what to do, he was Scott’s friend, he was, funny, smart, loyal, silly, energetic, human. It was how he had always been, ever since Scott dreamed him and made him real.
“You’re not real! You’re not real, you’re not real.” His mother screamed at him, shaking him so hard he thought he might break, after all humans could break and he was human, right. Mummy was getting worse, some days she was okay and they would bake cookies, other days, other days she just wasn’t. He’d always been brave, that’s the way Scotty had dreamt him, he didn’t want to be brave anymore.
“We never wanted you.”
“You’re not ours.”
“Why would we want you.”
“Your wrong, You’re an abomination.”
“You’re not real.”
“You’re a monster.”
“Your killing me.”
He wondered sometimes, about the things his mum would scream at him on her bad days, they’d never asked for Stiles, they weren’t his real parents, he didn’t think he had real parents, he wondered if having parents was a requirement of existing. He wondered if he really was a monster, especially when he realised that all other imaginary friends were exactly that, imaginary. He wondered if he really had killed his mother, if the fact that she stopped breathing that Tuesday was because he was breathing, if the fact that he was real, was why her mind had slipped into imagination. He didn’t know whether he wanted to be real if this was the price to pay.
His dad, looked at him sometimes like he wasn’t sure if there was anyone really there, especially when he had drunk a little, that was happening more and more now, the drinking. Scott’s house had become his refuge and Scott would hold his hand squeezing it tightly whilst they slept, when Scott held his hand it stopped feeling like he was floating away, he still didn’t have dreams but it didn’t feel like he was falling into the dark, it just felt peaceful.
Sometimes his dad would come over, he’d sit with him and talk for a while and then other nights, he just wouldn’t, he just didn’t turn up, like he had forgotten all about the boy who filled the picture frames in his house, it left Stiles feeling empty more like a piece of furniture than a person.
“He doesn’t want me, he doesn’t want me.” He was crying into Scott’s shoulder, it was
strange fine, he’s never cried before not even when his mother had died, it just wasn’t a part of who he was, but Scott had seen his parents argue earlier and had burst into tears and just as quickly tears started falling down Stiles face as they held each other. Scott clutched him tighter and they soon fell asleep in a mess of blankets and snotty noses. The next day his dad turned up at the door as if he had suddenly remembered his child, he took Stiles home that day as Scott stood in the doorway with a bright smile and two thumbs held up.
After that life changed, things seemed better, Scott and Stiles went to Lydia Martins tenth birthday party and when Scott asked Stiles if ‘he liked Lydia, because that’s the type of girl he imagined Stiles with’ he said ‘yes’, he didn’t know why, especially as he had always thought Jackson Whittemore was much prettier than Lydia. Life was moving forward, some days Stiles was almost sure that Scott had forgotten that he wasn’t really real, but it didn’t matter, they were best friends, they both finished middle school and moved on to high school, which was when werewolves and the supernatural took over their lives. It was when everything changed.
The alpha pack was gone, thank fuck. Scotty boy was a true alpha, who’d of thought it. It had been hard, hell they had some seriously close scrapes, they had nearly lost Erica, Boyd and Cora but they had just about made it through, they were alive, they were all alive.
Although sometimes it didn’t feel like it, his dad was always working and when he wasn’t he kind of just looked through him, Stiles felt like he was he was falling back in with the furniture. The sheriff hadn’t called him son since they had all saved their parents and even then, it was a bit half-hearted before his dad had walked over to check on Scott. The pack didn’t really call him, not that he expected it, everyone had their own lives it was fine.
He was fine.
Scott was busy, he did have a job, his mum, school, being ‘true alpha’, his beta’s, Isaac living with him and his’epic,amazing romance’ with his very own
Juliet, wait scratch that, Disney princess after all he was getting his happy ending. He just wished that maybe there was a bit more time for them, even just a text, maybe. Sometimes it was like he was living with his whole body submerged in water, people and things would just blur and loose colour, sound seemed far away and when he had called out to Scott when he had seen him stood by the lockers with Isaac even though they both had super hearing they didn’t seem to hear him. He felt like he was slipping further away, sometimes when he was alone he didn’t know where he went but he would just stop, it was like he just stopped existing, he would start right back up when anyone would walk into the room but it scared him it was fine.
*Buzz* *Buzz* *Buzz*
Shit. He couldn’t find his phone, he could hear it buzzing but, he just couldn’t think where he had put it, things were being flung around the room as he searched, until finally he pushed a stack of paper on his desk aside and there it was, Scott’s cheery face blinking up at his sallow one.
“Hey, scotty boy, I was just about to leave.” He said, mustering up all his happiness trying to force it into his voice, today was pack training day, they were all getting together in the preserve to do some drills, make sure they were ready for anything else the supernatural world would throw at them.
“Stiles, umm maybe you-“There was a whispered conversation on the other line as tiles practically fell down the stairs and out the front door, sliding into the front seat of the jeep.
“Scotty, what’s up? You sound off.” Scott had sounded tired almost hesitant in the few words he had spoken.
“We, we umm, we deci- I decided that maybe you shouldn’t come today.” It was rushed, a bit quick but Stiles had still caught the bits he needed too.
“What?” He croaked into the receiver, hand stilling next to the key in the ignition switch, his finger twitching slightly as if to remind him that he was still here, that this was real.
“I just, I’ll come over after yeah?”
“Scott, what’s going on?” There was silence, just nothing but silence. “Scott!?” He shouted at the same time he punched down on the dash.
“We just, we were talking and we decided you shouldn’t be in the pack anymore, you could get hurt, your human.” That’s when he felt his stomach fall out of his body, human, that was what Scott had always wanted him to be, that’s how he created him, it was why he had said no to Peter even though he wanted to say yes. Scott didn’t want him anymore, he had a flaw in his design.
“But, Lydia, Allison?” He was clutching at straws and he knew it, his mum had died believing he was a monster, his dad barely looked at him anymore, he had been told this day would come, others had told him, that one day Scott wouldn’t need him anymore, but he had always ignored them, because this wouldn’t happen to him, come on Stiles was real and living and breathing all because of Scott. That’s when he realised his hand didn’t hurt, even though one of the knuckles had slid down and completely out of place, he poked it in morbid fascination and nothing, he didn’t feel anything.
“Come on Stiles don’t make this hard, Lydia’s a banshee or something and Allison’s a hunter, she’s getting trained now, your, your just human.” Again with the word human, had Scott really forgotten, how could he just forget, Stiles was his best friend.
“I could learn, I could I co-“
“Stiles, just, we don’t need you here, I don’t need you here, just don’t come okay.” The phone went silent and the screen showed that Scott had hung up. He couldn’t feel anything, Scott didn’t want him, didn’t need him. Oh was this whet the others had told him about, his hand looked paler, he felt less anchored, like he could just float away. Shit.
The jeep started up with a roar as Stiles peeled out of the driveway and towards the preserve, every second feeling more and more like his throat was turning to dust, like he wasn’t quite there anymore. He pulled into the road that lead to the hale house, to were the others cars were parked, quickly jumping out from behind the wheel his hand looking more translucent now, his foot going straight through a root that should have tripped him up. Shit.
He ran, he ran and ran to where he knew the others would be, the clearing a while out, each and every pounding step leaving him feeling more and more disconnected, the world becoming more of a blur and the colours fading to the point he couldn’t tell that his sweatshirt was red. Shit.
He could see them, he could see them, they were there, maybe a hundred meters out.
“Scott!” He screamed, he knew it came out as little more than his normal voice, but he was almost there maybe, maybe if he could just see Scott, just speak to him they could sort this, maybe he could live, maybe he wouldn’t have to find out what lay in the darkness. He couldn’t be brave anymore. Shit.
He just wanted his best friend.
Scott was watching Derek and Boyd spar when he heard him, he looked up at the same time the other wolves did, spotting Stiles through the tree’s. Shit. He told him not to come. The others had noticed now, they could all see Stiles running and stumbling towards them, that’s when Scot noticed him, really took a good look and noticed that Stiles skin was practically see through, that whilst he could see Stiles running towards him, he couldn’t hear a heartbeat.
Scott closed his eyes and wished for a friend, another boy with a mischievous smile to play with.
A little boy with brown unruly hair and moles on his face appeared next to him in the sandpit.
A little boy wearing a cape and floating a few inches off the floor.
A little boy crying on his shoulder wishing for his dad, then he was there.
“Stiles!” Scott shouted, his voice filled with so much panic it broke halfway through the name of the boy, he dreamt up. That’s when he ran, running to bridge the divide with his best friend, the boy who looked like a ghost and was stretching out his hand.
They were both running towards each other, Stiles with a hand outstretched and Scott with both arms, ignoring the calls form the others stood off to the side, they collided.
Dust and ash exploded outwards as they collided and Scott was left clutching a red sweatshirt, the sweatshirt of the boy who never really existed.
“Stiles.” He whispered as the others ran closer, shouting at each other, at him as he fell to his knees, clutching the sweatshirt.
There was nothing left, just clothes, dust and ash.
There was a boy called Stiles once, one day he disappeared but the only people who really remembered him were the ones who say he disappeared in front of them, who say that he existed even though they have nothing to prove it but a red sweatshirt.