Show Me Your Eyes

Chapter 4

When he was just a few months old, he saw the face of his father, his father first. He was a little baby, crying and screaming incoherent language as his father smiled at him, trying to calm him down. That was when little Stiles could see. His sight was black and white, it had no colours, no emotions, but he could see his father's smile and his father's eyes and his father. The cries had stopped.

When he was three, he woke up to the endless darkness. Everything was gone. There was no colour anymore. There was no white, just black. There was nothing. He was three, crying and screaming, 'Dad' as his father woke up, trying to calm him down. His mom woke up too and all she was able to do was nothing. That was when little Stiles couldn't see anymore. His sight was black, dark black, nothing. He couldn't see his father anymore. It was when he lost his sight, he lost his father too. The cries never stopped.

When he was four, he met Scott McCall. He played with the sand, enjoying its softness in his tiny hands, so confused and so lost as to how does it look like. He felt a presence, his mother was looking over him but it wasn't her presence he felt. There was someone there, playing with the sand, too.

"Hi. I'm Scott." he heard a small voice, but didn't know where it came from.

"M-M-M-M-Mi- Stiles," he quietly said, his cheeks blushing.

"What kind of name is that? Do you like my sand castle? I made it all by myself!"  The little boy said enthusiastically and Stiles already felt like he was going to cry, because he really wanted to see a sand castle. He's never seen one before.

So, instead of crying, Stiles peed himself hence the embarrassment he didn't know what a sand castle looked like. The liquid went through his pants and on Scott's castle, which made Scott's mouth drop.

"Hey! You just peed on my sand castle!"

When he was eight, he began playing a game with his mother. It was practice and studying. Learning to use his eyes by focusing on the sounds. It was simple; Claudia Stilinski would make any sound in any room and Stiles' eyes would look at the direction it came from. She taught him how to see with his ears.

When he was ten, he lost his mother. She died from frontotemporal dementia. He'd never talked to anyone about his mother. Not Scott. Not Melissa. Not even his dad. Claudia awoke the sorrow in his soul he could never erase. And thoughts of her ached.

When he was fourteen, Stiles finished his four years of school for the blind with a diploma and was the top student of his class. All he ever wanted to do was be a good son after his mom died. That was the challenge and the prize was making his father proud. And he succeeded.

Sixteen year old Stiles attended high school just like any other normal kid. It felt good, it felt ordinary and ordinary was what he always wanted to be. His life consisted of constant eye surgeries that didn't help him and of countless nights spent awoken, craving for sights he could never enjoy.

Stiles thought he experienced love when he met Cora Hale. She was a combination of blossom and hurricane, indifference, but kindness. He loved that and it seemed as though Cora loved him, too. She might have. She might do. She might. Not that he knows. She left without a trace the night he was going to propose, two days after his surgery she didn't wait for to end. Maybe she knew he was going to ask her the question every person dreams of being asked and fear crept into her mind or maybe she just didn't love him enough to stay with him. Maybe she didn't love him.

He loved mysteries. The feeling of being right after you solved something, whether it's a crossword or a murder case(one of his favourite TV shows was 'Bones'). The fascination that'd take over and the determination he'd dedicate to just to solve something that might just be impossible. His eyes would light up even though he doesn't know. It was something he had always loved doing. Solving things. It takes him to a whole different universe, where he can see, where he's the one who always figures it out, and it feels good. It feels good to escape. He wanted to go to law enforcement, which he knew was irrational. He could never be anything. Just Stiles.