Stiles had no idea what time it was. He knew it was late, maybe even the early hours of the morning.
He'd been awake for days on end. His brain, his brain was talking and talking and it just wouldn't shut the fuck up. It's hard to sleep when you can't even escape your own thoughts. And the thing is, is that these thoughts weren't about anything huge, like werewolves and supernatural beings, no. These thoughts were purely about the fact that he was gay.
He hadn't told anyone. It's not like he just woke up one day and said "Hey, I'm gay." No, this had been something he'd known since as long as he could remember. Always in the back of his mind, haunting him, reminding him, screaming at him. Even when he was fighting demons, finding out his best friend was a werewolf, or mourning the loss of his mother - the thought was still there.
Wringing his hands together, he stood up off of his bed, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. He looked awful. His eyes were red, his hair sticking up all over the place, his pale skin contrasting against the light blue veins in his neck. He looked at himself, hard. He stared for so long, unblinking, and it actually became painful. It was so fucking weird too look in the mirror and not even recognize the thing staring back at him.
"I'm gay." He whispered softly, not breaking eye contact with his reflection. He'd never said it out loud like that, and the words rang around the silent room, bouncing off the walls, radiating in his mind.
He suddenly bolted, not caring if he woke his dad in the process. Stumbling down the stairs and retching the front door open, stepping out into the freezing cold suburban December night. He ran down the quiet road, his bare feet slamming against the wet floor. He stopped after a few minutes, panting hard to try and catch his breath. It was so silent, not even a dog barking, or a cat yowling. It was almost eerie.
It was so fucking cold, but he couldn't really feel it. He could see it, he could see the way his breath clouded when he breathed, he could see the ice lining the streets and the tops of cars, but he couldn't really feel it.
He frowned up at the moon and the stars which were hanging above him, twinkling softly in the clear night sky. He liked the stars, he liked space. They didn't care that he was gay, they didn't care that he was sad, they just didn't. His feelings were irrelevant to the universe, and that was extremely comforting.
He continued walking, slower this time, still looking at the stars and not feeling the cold -- when he found himself outside of Scott's house. Scott was his best friend. He could always go to Scott, he knew that at least. He didn't really have anywhere else to go.
He started up at the path, knocking lightly on the McCall's front door. Nothing. Stiles frowned, pressing the heels of his hands into his teary eyes in despair. He jumped though, suddenly, when after at least 5 more minutes the door swung open, revealing a very tired, perplexed looking Scott.
"Stiles?" Scott questioned, running a hand through his bed hair. Stiles looked up, swallowing nervously. He didn't exactly know what to say, or do for that matter.
"C-can...Can I come in?" His voice was so quiet, and weak, and almost broken-sounding that it surprised even him. Scott looked at him for a moment longer, taking note of the state Stiles was in. Taking note of the cracks in his voice and the tiredness in his eyes.
"Sure, buddy, just...come sit in the living room, ok?" His friend replied, talking softly as if he was scared to speak any louder. Stiles did as he was told, walking into the dark room and plopping himself down on the sofa. Scott sat next to him, gingerly, still looking at Stiles with that confused, worried glare.
"Are you okay?" Scott found himself asking. Stiles went to answer, opening his mouth but then snapping it shut. He shrugged, then shook his head. He didn't want to lie.
