A/N: It's been way too friggin' long since I've written anything. I'm out of practice. I want this story to be longer and have a lot of meaning to it even though it's going to be really smutty. Some of the content might be kind of triggering for some people so I'll write a bunch of warnings throughout the chapters and in the description/summary. Also this genre is different from my usual one. I usually deal with anime so if this seems too weird and super OOC then I'll do my best to change it… so…yeah. But Stiles is supposed to be a super depressing character in this so…be warned. Also un-beta'd. Mistakes are my own.

WARNING!: CONTAINS VIVID DESCRIPTION OF SELF-HARM! CUTTING! PLEASE DON'T READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU!

TRIGGER WARNING!: CUTTING, DEPRESSION

Also smut in later chapters…gay smut…male on male ACTION!

Still here?! Cool, enjoy the story.

FOR THE LOVE OF MY LIFE: SlashFictioner

Chapter 1

Beacon Hills felt like Hell for Stiles. There was madness in every corner of every room, each shadow spreading the chaos deeper into the walls. Sitting in his room with all the lights on did nothing to keep the darkness at bay and no amount of noise could drown out the pandemonium in his mind. Things hadn't been going right for so long now. Ever since Scott had gotten bit his life had been tossed into turmoil. Yet there was nothing he could do. This was his life now and the only thing he could do was endure it.

But…what if he couldn't endure it anymore? What if that time had come when he'd just snap and lose all reasoning? It certainly felt like it. For years he'd been dealing with this insanity brought on by the supernatural world invading his human one. Now the power of the Nemeton had loosed a screw inside him. Demons had possessed him and he'd done unspeakable things during possession. How was he still functioning?

"I'm not." He whispered to himself as he sat on the cold tiles of his bathtub as the frigid water poured over him.

For the past hour he'd sat there, doing nothing, and just contemplating his life. It felt meaningless. He was only human after all. A fragile, broken human.

Stiles ran his fingers through his wet hair for the hundredth time, letting the water run down his arms and drip from his elbows to his knees that were pulled up to his chest. His ass was starting to tingle having fallen asleep from lack of movement. Turning he shut the water off and sat there listening to the last few drips empty into the drain and slumped against the side of the tub. He was so tired.

The thought of his mother flitted through his mind, bringing pain with it but at the same time comfort. He'd be able to tell his mom what was going on. She'd listen to him and pull him out of the tub with a warm towel in her hand, soothing his back with her loving touch all the while telling him how proud she was of him.

Stiles bit out a harsh, self-loathing laugh. Well, she wasn't here, nobody was, and it was his own damn fault. Slowly he pulled himself upright and tugged the towel from the rack, drying himself off only to the point where he wasn't dripping everywhere before stepping out. He pulled on some underwear and pajama pants before draping the towel over his head and trudging back to his room across the hall. The house was quiet except for the occasional creaks of ageing wood that never failed to freak him out. It reminded him of how alone he really was. Everyone around him had their own place. Scott, Derek, Isaac…they were all strong werewolves, Lydia a banshee, even Allison was useful with her experience and knowledge as a hunter.

The bed creaked as Stiles flopped down onto it, not bothering to pull the covers down to crawl under or even to make it to his pillow. There was no point. He wasn't comfortable no matter where he laid so he just shut his eyes, feeling the drying water settle on his skin in little pin-points of coldness. Maybe he'd sleep, maybe he'd dream, but most likely he'd lay awake until he saw the faint hints of pink sun in the sky. Yeah, that was most likely the case. And tomorrow he'd drive to school in his beaten, old Jeep and pretend to be happy until he was alone and fighting the madness again.

Or maybe he just wouldn't get up. Stiles lay there through the night, listening in ever growing paranoia to the sounds of darkness. When finally, so many sleepless hours later, he saw the faint light of dawn he slowly sat back up, not having moved the entire night. His father would be home from the night shift in about an hour. There were cricks in his neck and back from not moving and his hand was asleep but he paid it no mind as he stood and crossed his room to his closet, pulling it open slowly as if a monster were on the other side. He was more surprised to see only his clothes in the darkness and gave a small, resigned sigh before jerking a t-shirt and flannel shirt from their hangers.

As if the task grieved him greatly he pulled his arms through and closed the closet door once more. From his drawers he pulled a worn pair of pants and tugged them on before grabbing his backpack from where it lay at the foot of his bed and made his way downstairs to the kitchen where he grabbed a bowl of cereal before sitting down at the table to wait for his father.

He didn't have to wait long before he heard the rumble of the cruiser pull up in the driveway and the clacking of keys as they turned the lock in the front door. Once he heard the front door shut once more he pulled his lips into a convincing, fake smile.

"Hey Dad!" he calls when he knows his dad's close enough. "How was work?"

"Boring. Speeding tickets and a couple of vandals was all for tonight." Sherriff Stilinski says as he walks into the kitchen with his son. "You sleep alright? You look like a panda."

Stiles gave his dad his most comforting smile, well, as much of one as he could muster. "Yeah, I have like a dozen tests this week and I have not been studying enough so I stayed up too late. Oops." He said with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders as he dipped the spoon into his cereal as if he was going to take a bite.

Papa Stilinski gave him a small frown that accompanied a smile before clapping his son on the shoulder. "Well, I'm going to hit the hay. Have a good day at school son!" he called as he walked up the stairs.

Stiles waited for the slam of his door before slumping into his chair. He rubbed his palms over his eyes a couple of times before getting back up and dumping the cereal down the drain and setting the bowl in the dishwasher. He waits about twenty minutes, giving his dad enough time to change out of his uniform, shower, and settle into bed before he trudges back upstairs, dragging his backpack behind him.

Stiles stares up at the ceiling from his bed blankly before pulling his phone out of his pocket. He hasn't heard from anyone in days. The last time Scott texted him was to get some information on the different types of wolfsbane and which ones grew around their area. That took all of ten minutes and once again his phone was silent. Isaac never had a reason to text him and Derek had called him about two weeks ago to ask where Scott was. Even his dad didn't call him anymore. There hadn't been any commotion in over three months. He was once again a useless human.

The days went on like that. The school had called the first day but Stiles had picked up, pretending to be his dad, and told them Stiles would be absent for a while due to a rare disease he'd picked up while hiking. It was a lame excuse but after a few promises to send a 'doctor's note' they let him be. Papa Stilinski didn't even question his son's wellbeing after a while and Stiles didn't offer any reassurances.

The days were monotonous, pretending to be ok and go to school, barely eating a slice of bread and a glass of water, taking a shower then crawling into bed for a sleepless night. Sometimes though, there would be days that would break the norm such as a stumble up the step or a sudden slam of the door, but even more prominent came in the form of a broken glass cup. Stiles had fallen into a trance like state as he'd stared out the window one morning, a half empty cup of water in his hand. The condensation had gathered on the outside and slipped from his grasp, crashing and shattering on the ground. He didn't even jump at the loud noise. Instead he calmly, sullenly, looked down at the mess and sighed.

"Clumsy." He whispered and grabbed the towel from beside the sink and bent down onto his knees to start cleaning up.

As he grabbed the pieces a particularly sharp edge sliced right into the palm of his hand. The sudden spark of sensation travelled through his arm and up into his brain. His heart stuttered a bit, beating wildly before the pain receded and he was once again staring blank-faced at his bloodied hand.

"Huh…" he mumbled before continuing his clean-up.

He lay in bed that night and stared at his scab, remembering that flicker of feeling. He'd forgotten for a while what feeling felt like. After getting beaten up by supernatural things so often he'd thought he'd hate this pain again, but instead it brought back those feelings of belonging. Remembering all those times he'd been called upon to assist in a dangerous mission that eventually got him hurt. But it'd been worth it. He cradled his hand to his chest and managed a few hours of sleep that night until he woke screaming into his blankets.

Another couple of days passed by with absolutely nothing. Stiles kept looking at his healing palm and tried to recall that pain but it was getting harder to remember. Finally, two days later, late into the night, Stiles sat up in bed and stared at his palm. His scab had fallen off and there was no more pain to remind him of any feelings at all. He couldn't take it.

Slowly he climbed out of bed and tugged open one of his drawers at his desk and rifled around until he found a small, rectangular box. He almost never opened it since he never really needed it. Clutching it to his chest he pulled open his door and walked across the hall into the bathroom and turned on the light. He looked paler than he had even a few days ago under the harsh, yellow light. Quickly, with shaking hands, he pulled open the box and slid the cold metal tool into his waiting palm. The box cutter reflected the awful light, showing off its unused and sharp edges.

"Will you help me?" Stiles' voice cracked slightly. He knew he was talking to an inanimate object but so far it was the only thing that gave him even a shred of hope.

Slowly he extended the blade and held out his left hand, the same hand with the tiny, white scar on the palm, and put the cool metal to the underside of his wrist and let it glide down the expanse of skin. At first there was no indication that it'd done anything and disappointment sat heavily within Stiles. Then there were beads of red dewing on the lips of the cut before spilling over into crimson tears. Stiles watched, fascinated, then there was a flash of pain as he jostled the injury and he felt that same spark of remembrance. That feeling that he got whenever he'd done something dangerous but useful. Finally, he felt relief from this endless nothingness.

"I knew you could do it." He said fondly to the cold metal and sat there, feeling the warmth spread over his arm and through his body.

The cut was shallow but it'd definitely take a few days or so to heal. Stiles sighed in contentment for the first time in ages instead of an empty sigh of cold acceptance. It took him a few more moments to get up and wash the drying blood off his arm and cover the cut with a small strip of gauze, since a Band-Aid would simply stick to the cut. He went to bed feeling better than he had in weeks, months even.

After over a week with no contact, no suspicious glances from his dad, even though his acting couldn't have been that good, and another two nights in the bathroom with his new metal 'buddy', Stiles' phone buzzed in his hand. He was tempted to just let it go but then there was another buzz. Two messages in the same few minute after so long with no contact? What was so important?

Stiles pulled his phone up and clicked into his messages. There was one from Scott and one surprisingly from Derek.

4:26pm. Scott: Dude wherev u been? U missed 2 big tests! Also meeting 2nite Dereks.

4:31pm. Derek: Meeting. 7pm.

Well, so much for eloquence. Stiles didn't feel like going. He didn't feel like doing anything so he just shot two quick texts to each, both saying: Can't. Sick. There wasn't an immediate reply but after about twenty minutes or so there was one buzz. The responder's name surprised him.

4:54pm. Derek: Sick with what?

Stiles heaved a sigh and shut his phone off. He didn't need to talk to people who had never given a damn and wouldn't give a damn even if he talked to them. The three cuts under his wrappings ached faintly and he let his fingers travel over the gauze fondly, as if it were his most precious thing. His box cutter was in the back pocket of his jeans where he always kept it now. Even while he 'slept' it was always close by. That was all the friends he needed.

Stiles watched the sun slowly set in the cold autumn sky outside his window and once it was finally gone and the clock read 6:43pm Stiles turned over on his bed to face the wall. His dad was supposed to leave any minute for the graveyard shift down at the station like he always did since he'd learned about the supernatural shenanigans. Sure enough, as soon as the clock hit 6:45pm there was a soft knock on his door.

"Hey kiddo, I'm leaving for work. Need anything?" it was the same mantra every night before he left.

"Nah, thanks dad. Have a good night at work. Be safe." Stiles called back to his dad who gave two knocks on the wood of his door before clomping downstairs.

The front door closed with a slight bang and Stiles let himself relax all the way once more. He didn't want his dad to see him like this, lifeless and alone. The cruiser rumbled past the window and down the street and once again Stiles felt so very much alone again. The pain from his self-inflicted wounds had subsided to the point where he could barely feel it. He pressed the pads of his fingers roughly into the scratches but they'd healed to the point there was only a twinge of pain. There was a brief flicker of anticipation as he realized he could feel that sweet pain once again and he quickly got up from his bed and locked the door to the bathroom, sinking onto the cold tile.

"Time to make me smile buddy." He said fondly, sickly, to the shining, well-kept blade.

He tore off the bandage and looked over the healing scabs of his previous cuts. Slowly he pressed the metal edge to his skin and applied pressure, feeling it bite into him as he dragged it across his wrist. Blood immediately welled along the edge and spilled over, dripping onto the tile floor between his feet. Relief and satisfaction sang through him as small waves of pain radiated from his wrist. It felt so good. It made him feel right again.

Slowly, what felt like hours later, he clambered up off the floor and cleaned up the mess he'd made with toilet paper and flushed the remains away. He cleaned his wound and bandaged it before making his way back to his room and curled up at the head of his bed, holding his throbbing hand against his chest and breathing out in contentment. He always slept well for a few hours afterwards, with the dull ache reminding him he was still alive.

In the morning, as he watched the sky turn into pinks and yellows and blues, Stiles grabbed his phone once more and turned it back on. The battery beeped in low health but Stiles ignored it as he opened up his messages. He had three missed messages. Two from Scott and one from Isaac. None from Derek but that wasn't surprising.

6:50pm Scott: Where r u?! Dereks gonna thro a fit!

6:56pm Isaac: You need to get here now. Derek's not looking too happy.

7:59pm Scott: Thanks a lot dude! Dereks ttly po'd cuz u didnt sho up. Wat the hell man?!

Stiles rubbed a hand over his face and grumbled something about unthankful bastards and quickly typed out a reply to Scott.

6:24am Dude, calm down. Sorry I missed your stupid meeting.

He sent the message quickly and stood up, grabbing the box cutter out from under his pillow. He threw on clothes quickly and without a second glance to see if they even matched before stuffing the cutter into his back pocket and jamming his feet into shoes and socks. He missed two weeks of class but had been keeping up online so he didn't have too much catching up. Quickly he printed his copy of a doctor's note, wrote the cause of his absence and forged his doctor's signature before hopping down the stairs*. His left wrist itched pleasantly, hidden under bandages beneath his long sleeve, and it reassured him slightly knowing he could still feel.

His dad walked through the front door as his toast popped.

"Morning Dad!" he called as he slathered butter all over the whole wheat bread.

"Mornin' Stiles." Was his sleepy reply followed shortly by a yawn. "You seem spritely this morning. Finally get a decent night's sleep?"

"Uh, yeah! Gotta go, I'm meeting up with Scott to work on some History project thingy." He said quickly before he skipped out of the kitchen and down the hall. He grabbed his keys from its hook and waved at his dad with his toast in his mouth as he shut and locked the door behind him.

His jeep was covered in a fine layer of morning dew and Stiles drew his finger along the side, gathering the water as he slid into the driver's seat. His baby roared to life and he calmly let the sounds and smell of his Jeep wash over him. He felt better today than he had in weeks and he rubbed his thumb over his bandages in a new found habit before putting his car into gear and backing her out. The drive to school was calming until he hit the parking lot and jerked his car all over the lot looking for a spot. Finally he parked in the far back corner and hopped out, slinging his pack over his shoulder and locking the Jeep. He patted his back pocket for his knife and felt its weight settled comfortably against his hand.

"Dude! Stiles where the hell have you been?!" Scott yelled at him when he reached the grass in front of the school.

"Why are there so many people here today? It's only like 6:50. School doesn't start for another forty minutes." Stiles asked, ignoring Scott's previous question.

"Everyone's studying for finals! You missed so much! Now are you going to answer me?"

"Finals." Stiles mumbled and thought for a second. Had he really been away that long?

"Stiles!"

"Fine! Ok, alright! No need to shout! I was out sick. Had a kidney and bladder infection. Took forever to heal." He said quickly and with as much 'truth' as he could muster.

Scott narrowed his eyes suspiciously for a few seconds before sighing and shaking his head.

"Fine, whatever dude. Just make sure to warn me next time you're gonna be out so long."

"Yeah, cuz you text me all the time." Stiles said sarcastically and rolled his eyes, and head, with a shoulder shrug.

"Things have just been slow lately." Scott says as if that's an excuse and quickly looks up, eyes narrowing as they walk into the hall.

Kira's leaning against the lockers, reading something on her phone when Scott claps Stiles on the shoulder.

"Catch you later dude."

"Sure, sure."

Scott doesn't even notice the sarcasm and stress in Stiles' voice before running off to lean on the locker next to Kira and stare cheesily at her until she looks up and smiles widely at him. Stiles sighs once again and trudges through the student to the library where he studies for the next thirty minutes until the bell rings and he's off to class, his fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm on his bandages.

That day didn't go well for Stiles. His teachers all asking him where's he's been and if he's done the assignments that were due. It had started steadily raining during 4th period and when lunch came about the cafeteria smelled like wet dog and mildew. He hadn't brought a lunch so instead of joining Scott as his table with Kira, Isaac, Allison, Lydia, and the twins, he made his way to his Jeep and sat in there until he heard the bell ring. He contemplated on just going home but decided against it since his dad would hear the sound of his Jeep.

As he stepped out of the warmth of his Jeep and into the pouring rain his foot slid on the slick white marker that designated each space and his feet were wiped out from under him. His arms flailed and he felt himself come to a jarring stop just as his elbow connected with something solid. There was cursing and his funny bone tingled from the impact as Stiles whipped his head to the side to see just what the hell just happened.

Derek's furious face came level to his as his hand clutched his elbow. Stiles' eyes widened impossibly as he realized he wasn't sitting on the ground but was in fact being supported by Derek's arms.

"What the hell Stiles!?" Derek roared at him and shoved him against his Jeep.

Stiles quickly regained his footing in time to avoid another spill on the ground. He was still staring at Derek as if he was a completely foreign entity he'd never laid eyes on before.

"Uhm…what are you doing here?" he asked slowly.

"Scott said you were back in school." Derek said as he lifted his hand to his nose to check if it was bleeding. It wasn't. "You missed the pack meeting Stiles." He growled low in his throat.

"Uh, yeah. I already told you I was sick. Just ask Scott." He said, blowing it off as if it were nothing.

"Sick with what?" Derek asked, surprising Stiles again although he doesn't know exactly why.

"That doesn't matter. I just couldn't make it ok? I'll go to the next one." He said and began walking back towards the school. At this rate he was going to be late to his next class.

There was a yank on the fabric of his shirt then he was slammed against the wet door of his Jeep, the rain water soaking quickly into the back of his flannel and his t-shirt beneath that. Derek's arm pinned him there, pressing against his collarbones.

"Let me go! I need to get to class! I can't exactly afford to miss another one! I've missed like two weeks and I'm way behind and I have a lot of work to do! And it's raining! Can't you do the whole 'pin Stiles against hard surfaces painfully and roar in his face' some other time?!" Stile whined as he tried to wriggle his way out of Derek's hold. He only succeeded in making his clothes wetter. Finally he gave a frustrated sigh when Derek didn't do or say anything and went limp in his grasp. "Fine, what do you want?"

"What is wrong with you Stilinski?" Derek asked quietly, moving his face closer to Stiles as he narrowed his eyes as if he could find his answer written on him.

"Nothing! Now let me go you asshole!"

Derek's eyes narrowed and he finally dropped his arm. Stiles tugged his soaked back off the Jeep's door and glared at Derek who glared right back. The second bell signaling the start of class rang and Stiles groaned.

"See what you did?! Now I'm going to miss part of a very important lesson all thanks to you. So, thank you!" he yelled at him sarcastically as he squirmed his way around the unmoving wolf.

He didn't look back at him as he stomped back to the school, simply grabbed the cold, reassuring metal in his back pocket as he made his way to class. Of course everyone stared when he trudged through the class looking like a drowned cat but thankfully no one said anything and even the teacher dismissed his lateness. Only when he was seated at his desk by the window did he look out across the parking lot. He didn't see Derek anywhere and shook his head before turning his attention back to the boring lecture proceeding in front of him.

The day dragged on and that emptiness he felt like a constant reminder of how useless he was seemed to fill him. It drained him of everything and he found himself struggling to keep up with every class. He dug his fingers and nails constantly into his wrist, feeling that twinge of pain just so he could feel something. He also didn't see Scott or anyone from the group for the rest of the day. Lacrosse had been cancelled due to the rain and mud on the field so he was free as soon as the last bell rang. He didn't run into anybody as he dragged his feet to his Jeep and leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, waiting for the edge of madness to recede from his mind enough for him to drive. It took a bit and by the time he sat up to look out his foggy windshield pretty much everyone was gone from the parking lot.

The drive home took longer than the drive to school. He didn't feel the need to go fast and just dawdled down the streets until he made his way up his driveway and shut off the engine. He blew out a breath and sat there, looking up at his house. He wondered if his dad woke up from the sound of his Jeep or if he could slip in unnoticed. Opening his door seemed to take effort and it took even more effort unlocking and pushing open the front door. His feet were wet but he didn't care as he made his way straight to the bathroom. He shucked his clothes and slid heavily to the floor.

"Hey little buddy." He greeted his cutter like a dear friend and pressed the slider so it slid out of its sheath. The way the light bounced off of it made his stomach flutter.

Gently, almost reverently, he pressed the sharp blade once more to his skin after ridding himself of the soggy bandages and drew it slowly across the pale skin. The previous cut from the night before had split open when he tore the bandage off and was now beading red at the torn edges. The new cut slowly dripped rubies down his white skin and Stiles put the blade back against his skin and slid it once more right next to the fresh one. The feel of double the pain ignited warmth within him once more and his frayed nerves calmed.

In that moment nothing else mattered. Not Scott ditching him and not caring about where he'd been or how he's been, not Derek with his grumpy, broody attitude and cryptic questions. Not his dad always working the night shift and not the stress of school and not the madness that seemed to riddle every surface of this forsaken town. All that mattered was the deep bliss dripping onto his skin. And he stayed like that for hours. Long after the blood had dried and scabbed over, leaving his skin tight around the new marks.

Finally, when dusk had come and he heard his father shuffling around in his room, Stiles lifted his heavy body off the floor and quickly rinsed off and tugged his clothes back over his thin frame. He tugged the door open as soon as his dad walked out of his room.

"Hey. Evenin' kid. How was school?" he asked as he walked by him towards the stairs.

"It was just school. Boring. It's been raining pretty heavily all day dad. Careful tonight." He said with a small smile.

Papa Stilinski gave him a half smile and patted him on the shoulder.

"Alright. Need anything?"

Stiles smiled at the familiar question. "Nah dad, it's cool."

Papa Stilinski nodded and disappeared downstairs while Stiles dragged himself and his backpack into his room. He threw his shoes towards the closet to finish drying and rid himself of his clothes in favor of his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. Finally he collapsed on his bed, exhausted.

Tomorrow was Friday so he might as well attend school. Thanksgiving break was only a week away. He sighed, wishing he'd just taken all three weeks off and gone straight into the break. He shut his eyes and listened as thunder split through the air. In the back of his mind he wondered if the thunder and lightning was even more intense for werewolves. Well, with heightened senses he's sure it probably is but he makes a small not in his mind to ask Scott or maybe Isaac about it later. He doesn't want to talk to any of those pretenders right now.

"I just called Scott a pretender." He laughed to himself. "I'm a terrible friend."

He sank into his mattress and pulled the covers up over him before curling his hand around the cutter's comforting weight under his pillow and lay there awake for hours until sleep caught him. Even if it didn't last long, sleep felt like a glorious release until the nightmares came.

*Forging signatures is bad! Do not do this! You will get in trouble!

A/N: So, first chapter, done. It's been so long since I've written. I haven't had any motivation to write what-so-ever. I don't know when the next chapter will come out but…it'll get there eventually.

Sorry if this triggered any of you. Please don't report me. I have experience with self-harm myself so don't think I'm writing this from a 'viewers' point-of-view. Trust me I know the consequences of self-harm so…yeah. No hate but if you do it's ok. I respect your opinions.

Thank you for reading! Hope you stick around for Chapter 2! Intense feels still to come! ~hearts~