Important info: You'll see the drastic changes later on in this chapter. Trust me it's good. Scout's honor.
Disclaimer: Don't own shit.
WARNING: Horror scene ahead. Don't read if you're too squeamish.
Oh, and lots of FLUFF! ;) Because my freaking muse won't leave me be.
Stiles was a boy, *ahem* no, man, who rarely got enough sleep nowadays. By rarely he meant barely. Whether it was from playing too much Ps3 or a sudden change of lifestyle, he didn't know. He kept up his sleep deprivation up for about a week now and people were starting to notice. With all honesty, Stiles thought A: Nobody would notice or B: Nobody would care to notice. Both reasons seemed to fall under the 'false' category because Harvey went from the occasional "You look like shit," to "Get some sleep. Now," in the classical Specter authoritive/demanding voice. Heck, even Louis noticed, and told him to stop watching midnight porn because it was starting to show under his eyes. "These are reverse smoky eyes Lewiz, not bags!" was his reply.
However, it wasn't the video games or the midnight porn. The answer lied deep within Stiles's subconscious where he was plaqued by monstrous dreams. Some were so bad he taped his mouth shut at night to keep himself from waking Harvey. The method seemed stupid, but it produced fruitful results and it proved to be somewhat successful.
Stiles feared his acts of "I'm Fine's" and "I'm okay's" were coming to an end. Harvey is anything but stupid. He practically makes a living from reading people! It was a matter of time before he read Stiles.
That's one thing he always hated about Harvey. Stiles was always an open book when it came to that guy. The boy sat on the throne of concealment and mastered the art of masking. He always hid his true feelings and emotions from the world behind his shield of sarcasm, but lately the shield was becoming too heavy to carry.
Now it was Saturday, half past ten, and Stiles was trying really hard not to fall asleep. He felt his eyelids growing heavier and heavier by the minute, as if someone was placing weights on them. He hasn't slept for the past twenty-four hours. Could you blame him, though? Every time he closed his eyes for more than a second, he felt physical pain from seeing his mother lifeless eyes bore into his. There had been no goodbye or I love you- just blood, so much blood that it could fill up a whole bath tub. That and the agonizing abrupt stench of death, and his mother's sweet perfume lingering in the air…
He felt someone shaking his shoulder and he jumped on instinct. "Stiles." Oh. It was Harvey. "Go get some sleep."
Stiles yawned, mouth as big as a lions, "I'm…I'm not tired."
Harvey rolled his eyes.
Yeah, sure.
"I mean it."
He rubbed his eyes with one hand and shook his head "You kidding? I'm as energized as Donna when she sees a new pair of shoes." Yet, he suppressed another yawn.
Harvey felt his patience wearing thin. He grabbed Stiles's arm and 'gently' hauled him to his feet.
Stiles panicked when Harvey started to drag him to his room. He struggled out of Harvey's grasp and eventually broke free.
"No!" He protested. "I told you Harvey, I'm fine."
"Bullshit," Harvey said. "Look at you kid, you look like you're about to pass out!"
Indeed he was. Stiles was swaying slightly side to side, both feeling and looking exhausted. Nevertheless, he didn't back down.
Harvey sighed at his stubbornness. "All I'm asking is two hours tops."
A lot can happen in two hours. Stiles narrowed his eyes "Make it an hour and you've got a deal."
Harvey mocked a smile "Sorry. I don't negotiate with children. Now move."
"Yes master," he retorted curtly. He didn't appreciate Harvey ordering him around like a servant, and the extreme lack of rest did nothing but enhance his crabbiness.
"Watch it," Harvey warned. Whatever the hell was going on with the kid he better stay in line.
Stiles huffed and made his way to his room. It seemed pointless arguing with a lawyer, let alone putting up a fight. Fine, he would "sleep." He would lie in his bed and watch a movie or something. He would do anything but sleep. Then, when an hour or two has flown by, he'll make his way to the living room and ward off sleep some more without having Harvey pester and breathe down his neck. The plan was perfect and simple, but as soon as Stiles's head made contact with his soft pillow, slumber became like a large body of water and suddenly he could not swim. Stiles felt his eyelids grow heavier…and heavier…and heavier, and before you know it, he drowned.
Harvey toyed with the scotch in his hand, watching the cool liquid sway in a circular motion. He felt a certain amount of heaviness weighing in the pit of his stomach- and it wasn't his dinner. No, this was something entirely different. It was a feeling he was feeling constantly throughout this past week.
It was concern.
He was concerned for a certain teenage boy whose behavior has been quite eccentric. Harvey is not an idiot and it doesn't take a genius to realize that Stiles hasn't been sleeping. He could see the boys purple bags from a mile away!
What really got him thinking is to why the boy hasn't been sleeping- that was the million dollar question. Harvey wondered if it was the panic attacks or Stiles's medication. Whatever it was, it must be pretty bad for the kid to not sleep.
That's when Harvey heard it.
A loud CLASH! Came directly from Stiles's room. Harvey sprinted, as well as his heartbeat, to his son's room faster than the speed of light.
"Stiles."
"Stiles, why."
Stiles was standing in the backyard of his old house in Beacon Hills. It was cold, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and never leaves. The sky was a misty grey, and everything had an eerie feel. The leafless dead trees that surrounded him added more horror to the scenery. There was not a soul around or insight. All he heard was the echoes of his mother's pleading voice that came from the sky, and the crunching of dead leaves under his feet.
"Stiles."
He wanted to call out, but it's as if someone super-glued his mouth shut.
Suddenly, (though he doesn't know how) he was standing in front of his mother's grave. Her voice became louder and louder, and it sounded as if she was in pain.
"Stiles, why!?"
Now she was crying!
To say that Stiles was frightened is an understatement. He was downright terrified.
As if things couldn't get any worse, Stiles saw something shifting from underneath the dirt. A hand sprung upward from the earth and clawed its way to ground level, demonically.
Stiles wanted to run, scream, cry, do anyone of those things, but his feet stayed cemented to the floor, eyes dry, mouth shut.
He slowly watched his mother come up from her grave, blood and dirt plastered all over her face, hair, and body. Her wide, lifeless, ice blue eyes bore into his.
"YOU KILLED ME, STILES! WHY? WHYY!?"
She screamed these words over and over and over again. She pulled her hair so hard; Stiles could hear the ripping of her scalp.
Her horrific mantra caused Stiles to suffocate. His nostrils, mouth, and throat, all felt like they were being clenched. He just stood there in front of his terrifying dead mother, dying on the inside.
The lack of oxygen became too great. Black spots danced across his vision, and soon enough all he could hear was his heart beat come to a screeching halt.
…
And that's when the sleep paralyses kicked in. He felt like he was compelled to feel and endure death for a couple of minutes in the pure darkness. Stiles felt so much pain in his lungs. They felt as if they were on fire. Suddenly, as if he was taken back to the past, back to that horrific moment, and as if he was floating in a river, he felt his mother's sticky blood beneath his fingers, and then he felt it soak his clothes. Slowly, he felt the paralyses fade away and he sank in the crimson river. Stiles desperately tried to claw his way to the surface, but the surface never came. He was ceaselessly sinking in the depths of his inundating sin, everything becoming darker by the second.
...
What Harvey saw he never wanted to see again.
The boy had his arms jerking and his whole body was thrashing as he screamed. His chest was heaving up and down, coughing and gasping for air he couldn't seem to get. His face was ghostly white and was painted with pure horror and pain. Stiles arched his back and kicked his feet as if trying to get away from something.
"AHHAHAAA! AAHHHHH!"
Harvey moved quickly. He dodged Stiles' flailing limbs and wrapped one arm securely around Stiles' waist. He managed to capture both of the boy's arms by wrapping his other arm over Stiles's chest.
The sudden touch of contact seemed to rile the teen up even more. Stiles started struggling from Harvey's iron grip, and he started violently kicking his feet in the process. His screaming never ceased. Not one bit.
Harvey shook him while shouting into his ear. "STILES! WAKE UP!"
Stiles's frantic struggles shrunk into writhing, but Harvey refused to let go and wound up squeezing him tighter. After what felt like an eternity, Stiles's screaming died down slowly into uncontrollable sobs. Each sob and whimper tore Harvey's heart to pieces, but he wouldn't let anybody know that.
Despite Stiles's shaking form, they laid there frozen. Both of them breathed heavily, and while Stiles's mind still wasn't in the present state, Harvey pondered what to do next. He feared that any movement would rile the boy up again, so they just laid there for a couple of minutes, Stiles's body trapped in Harvey's arms.
Then, Stiles sniffled and soon his sniffling rapidly turned into crying again. Harvey tried to ignore the flash of guilt that ran up his body. He loosened his grip, ready to tighten it again if Stiles started to have a 'seizure' and try to claw his eyes out. But when he received no violent reaction, he carefully put his arm under Stiles's knees and scooped his legs over his right thigh, so that the boy was alongside him and perfectly nestled in-between his legs. Stiles unconsciously nuzzled his face into Harvey's chest and continued to sob.
Harvey mentally applauded himself for his astonishing comfort skills, for they were rusty and a bit out of practice due to his 'against showing emotions' rule, but it seems that some things you just never forget. His younger brother used to have nightmares, and Harvey (not wanting to disturb his parents at the time) comforted him. He would receive comfort too. He began to slightly rock the terrified teen in a soothing motion just like his father had when he had nightmares, though clearly not as bad as Stiles.
"Shhh, Stiles. It's okay. It's, uh, gonna be okay kid" he said, running a hand through his scruffy hair repeatedly; knowing it always soothed him. "I'm here."
I'm here.
It was amazing how two simple little words can make a person start to cry uncontrollably. Stiles buried his face in the crook of Harvey's neck and clung to him for dear life. He eagerly inhaled Harvey's scent and allowed it to engulf his nose. Harvey was his life raft that saved him from the river of blood. He could be embarrassed for acting like a two-year-old sometime else. He really needed this comfort, this reassurance that he's no longer drowning, and this hope.
Ever since his mother's death, no one's ever comforted him when he had these nightmares. He was always ignored and judged fine. Stiles missed the feeling of protective arms shielding him from the cruel world and having a strong rock to lean on. He forgot how good it felt. It literally felt like…home.
When Harvey slightly pulled apart, Stiles automatically stiffened.
"Hey," Harvey whispered gently, "Let's get you changed. You're soaked."
Stiles slowly untangled himself from Harvey, and pulled out another pair of sweats and a T-shirt from the drawer. He dropped it a few times because of how shaky his hands were. Harvey looked away to give the kid some privacy. Dreading to be alone, Stiles changed in the far corner of the room, but not too far.
When he was done, Harvey put a hand on his shoulder and guided him to his room. Stiles sat on the soft bed and looked down at his bare feet sheepishly. He knew that they needed to talk about it and that there was no other way around it.
"What did you see?"
Stiles looked into Harvey's concerned eyes. He's seen many things; unfathomable things in which the thin line between reality and fantasy are questioned.
"My m-mother." Wow did his voice sound like shit.
Harvey nodded solemnly, considering whether to push the matter further or not. He knew the child's mother was a sore subject just like his father was. But what could have caused Stiles to scream and thrash like that? It obviously wasn't a normal nightmare.
"Was it fictional or something that happened in real life?"
Stiles squeezed his eyes tightly. He really didn't want to be interrogated. Not tonight. "I-I rather not t-talk about it."
"Stiles," he said disapprovingly.
"P-please Harvey!" Stiles begged.
Harvey heard his fearful cracked voice, and looked at those large, red-rimmed, amber eyes, his trembling lip, and the tear stains on his cheeks, and thought: hell. How could he say no to that? Plus, the kids been through enough hell for one night and the last thing Harvey wants to do is let Stiles re-live that all over again. No way was that happening. He figured Stiles would tell him when he's ready. No use crossing the line.
Harvey sighed and then said, "Scoot."
Stiles stared at him, shocked for a second, and then did as he was told. Harvey propped himself against the headboard and pulled his laptop onto his lap, opening it and getting straight to work. Stiles eyed him wearily again, and then made a bold move. He hesitantly lowered his head and buried it in Harvey's side, praying that Harvey won't tell him to F off.
Harvey inhaled sharply, shocked at the sudden display of affection. "Haven't had enough, eh?" he teased, but nevertheless his hand rested on the side of Stiles's face, drawing small circles around his moles and peach fuzz with his thumb, while the rest of his four fingers played with his ear and hair.
Stiles looked up from the bed, "Hey, I can't help that you're so soft."
Harvey was relieved. You know Stiles is somewhat okay when he can crack a joke, even if his voice sounds weak. Harvey playfully glared down at him "Shut up."
"Hmm, Harvey-bear, so fluffy." He mumbled into his side.
Stiles smiled and closed his eyes, but then opened them, his smile vanishing. He remembered what happens when you welcome the darkness; it doesn't welcome you back.
The small action was not missed by Harvey. He squeezed Stiles's shoulder. "Sleep, Stiles. I'm not going anywhere."
Stiles's eyes lit up. (A/N: See what I did there?) Those words seemed to stop most of the bombarding thoughts.
"Look I'm even leaving the lamp on." Harvey said. "Think of it as a night-light."
"Screw you."
Harvey chuckled and grabbed a file next to him.
Stiles yawned for the umpteenth time that day. "Aren't you gonna sleep?"
Harvey flipped over the cover "No."
Stiles frowned "When you do, are you gonna go to the couch?"
"No. However, when it is time for me to sleep, your ass is sleeping on the floor."
Stiles snorted, "Oh please, underneath that hard exterior I know you like to cuddle."
Harvey rolled his eyes. "You speak of this to anyone your ass is grass and I'm gonna have Louis mow it."
Stiles grinned cheekily "I won't have to. Donna will probably know already without me even trying."
"Sleep you cheeky brat. Ah, finally you'll listen to what I say!"
Stiles closed his eyes and grinned. "Your word is law, Captain."
"Damn straight," Harvey smirked.
Soon enough, the teen drifted off to sleep, head pillowed on Harvey's thigh. The small light illuminated the dim room as they lay together side by side. Harvey didn't really sleep for the rest of the night. He was too busy watching over Stiles who occasionally whimpered and cried out when the remnants of his dream wouldn't leave him be. It didn't take much to calm him. Harvey would just card his hand through his hair; murmur that he was safe, and that nothing can harm him. Because in the end Harvey was the boat that kept Stiles afloat, yet his paternal love and protectiveness was as big as the ocean. And for once, Stiles didn't mind drowning.
IMPORTANT INFO!
Okay I couldn't help re-updating/posting this chapter. As you can see, my writing has improved and I will be doing this with the other chapters as well. The new chapter is almost done and will be posted shortly (and it's not "School Fight"). I still wanted "Nightmare on Specter St." to be before the chapter "School fight." Just because I originally wrote it that way and it feels right.
THANK YOU BEAUTIFUL SOULS FOR YOUR PATIENCE!
Stay tuned
