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Kaleidoscope

“If we do this, ¿are we sure the bite is going to transform Jackson?”

Derek turned to see Lyidia. She looked calm. She wasn’t showing any signs of anxiety, such as involuntary movements of the body (like the twitch of an eye or her fingers tapping). But just because she looked calm, didn’t meant she was calm. No matter how good you are at hiding what you are feeling, you can´t control the beating of your heart, and Lydia´s heart was beating really hard. As one should expect in this situation. The mand that she loved could die if this didn’t worked.

"No" Stiles replied "This only increases the probability by a slight margin, but the risk is still too high. That is something you both need to accept right now if you want to go through this. Jackson might die. And once Derek bites him there is no going back”

Now Derek turn to see Stiles. It would be childish to deny that he felt something strong for the boy, and he was sure that he had never felt anything like this for someone in the past.

He thought of Kate. When Derek went to the psychologist, he was very bad at expressing his feelings (he still is), but one tip he was given, was to choose a color and attach an emotion to that color, then he would try to do that with each emotion. Even though that was an advice given to a child to overcome a traumatic experience, it was still useful to this day.

Everything with Kate was red. There was passion, lust, and desire. When they hanged out, fought, had sex or any other thing, everything was intense, bathed in red. Red as the flames when they reached their highest point of his house that night. Red like all the blood that flowed as well. Red like the flowers that he took every now and then to certain graves in the forest.

With Stiles there was also red. When they got to close to each other, and some parts of their bodies brushed or when they went swimming and the only thing that prevented the boy from being naked were his swimming trunk. There was also blood, to be specific, the blood inside Derek´s body concentrated in a certain part of his body that in more than one occasion made him leave the room so it wouldn’t show in his pants.

But it wasn't the only color the boy represented. When Stiles was serving breakfast at the house and the entire pack was there, and he was telling one of his silly stories and everyone was laughing, he was yellow. At that times he imagined Stiles like the sun, giving warmth and illuminating everything around him. When Stiles left the room, the pack kept talking, laughing, but you could feel that something was missing, like… if the night had arrived.

When Derek was losing control of himself that night of full moon in the bathtub and Stiles came to keep him company, the boy was blue. They both shared the sadness and pain of losing someone they loved. The yearning of those times when they were younger, and everything was easier. Blue like the sea, that allowed him to find peace for the first time in a long time, making him stop seeking revenge against Kate as his anchor. That night he felt himself entering the cold water and he felt the salty water burning through the wounds of his heart. It hurt… but he was healing.

When Stiles decided that they had to kill the wizard, when he shot Peter because he had lost control, and at this very moment when he was explaining Jackson that he could die, he was gray. He had this gift of putting on a blindfold, took a scale in one of his hands and a sword in the other, and like the justice, became an impartial being that analyzed everything in the most objective and coldest way possible.

Derek also learned that we build ourselves with all these emotions, and that it´s really easy to paint only with red, blue or yellow. But adding gray to the mix... that’s a difficult task. And even more difficult when you try to keep the other colors of fading away, ¿how can you keep the brightness of the colors when you are adding so much gray? It would seem impossible… but Stiles was an artist. Every day he took his canvas and his brush to create pieces of art.

If our souls were paintings, you wouldn’t find Stiles in some big fancy museum. As it is hard to paint the way Stiles did it, it was to appreciate that work. His soul would be a collector's item, a treasure hung over a fireplace, where he could be admired every day.

Derek kept looking at Stiles. He put his index and thumb of both hands in an L shape, brought them together creating a frame, then closed one eye and focused on Stiles. He walked away a bit until the boy's body fit into the frame.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asked him.

Derek sighed “Realizing that you won’t fit over the fireplace”.

Note: I am trying to write a fanfic, and this is a little extract, it´s not close to be finished but i actually liked this part and wanted to posted it.

Note 2: English is not my first language, so sorry if some parts don´t make sense, but i promiste that in spanish is so much better, lol.

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ok universe, i’m ready to feel good things. make me feel good things.

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Submitting essays

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