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astripta

Summary:

Liam saw black and white since he had memory.

Theo see things, feels things, taste things the way they’re not supposed to be.

Notes:

THIAM WEEK | DAY 1: THEM WITH A TWIST

 

 

 

Losely based on this as a prompt:
http://ed-nygma-variations.tumblr.com/post/170380967809/i-have-a-friend-who-is-colorblind-i-have-another

 

So the funny thing with this is that I wanted to make something different.
Like really different.
And instead discovered I am different.
Yeah, after hours of research I noticed that I have a level of synesthesia.
Shocking, huh?
You can't even imagine

 

This goes for Brett
and Theo
and Lulu (@stripygirl)
and my Amazon (@thisoneifformyself),
because you all had to deal with my sorry ass freaking out, like always.
About something that had been part of me since, well, always.
I just was too blind to not see it.
Blind, get it? Get it?
I'm hilarious.

 

As always, too:
Barely, almost none at all beta’d.
Completely messy.
Even more now, but that's the whole idea.
Enjoy.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

 

 

Liam saw black and white since he had memory.

He wished that he could sense some shades of color, like other colorblinds could. That he would confuse one color for another like he read on that internet article when he was young and tried to search for answers because he couldn’t really understand the odd looks of his best friend when he asked for the orange book instead of the purple one or the laughs that he got at his old school when his mom had to run early and wasn’t able to help him match clothes.

Instead, his eyes were attuned to light and shadow.

Liam wishes that he could see what color are the flowers his mom puts in the front yard or the jersey of his lacrosse team or the CD cover his stepdad likes so much to listen to. How his eyes, that so many people compliment, look like beyond a really light grey. Or how his best friend’s skin is under the sun.

He wishes.

And he thinks he might get what he asks for when a bite he doesn’t expect digs deep into one of his forearms, attempting to save a life that’s not supposed to end yet.

But being a werewolf doesn’t make any magic change. If anything, it makes things even worse, because he read once on a book that dogs lack colors in their sight and Stiles jokes feel more like jabs in his chest than playful jokes to bloom smiles.

And it doesn’t matter.

Because green is still grey and red is a bit more darker. Because purple and orange looks almost the same and Mason tries to appease his curiosity by saying that his skin is dark, doesn’t matter the light, but it’s not enough.

The spectrum doesn’t really change and that’s all he has.

Black and white and grey.

His life is plain.

That until Theo appeared.

 

*

 

He’s not exactly proud to admit it and yet finds completely understanding how long it takes him to notice.

Things go too quick on his head, on this time, on this place. Always a threat, always to run, always to try to survive.

First Theo is manipulative and he lies and harms and cheats, but soon there’s a shortcut to hell and Liam doesn’t have to worry about looking at the big bad with a strange interest he can exactly explain.

Then it’s thunders and hooves over the street pavement. The ground breaking in two because he commands so and a what was a living nightmare, now emerging smelling like fear and desperation all together. Grey smoke and shooting that erase parts of his memory as quick as a sneeze. Liam notices something there, right before the elevator door close and the smirk he so much convinced himself to loath wasn’t there anymore.

The many in between moments he ignores or brushes off because there’s no time but he doesn’t know what for.

It finally clicks when the threat to his life is more palpable than ever. With an elevator and the smell of gunpowder too, but this time they both are safe. For a little while, at least. For a little longer.

Or that’s what he thinks.

Anger is a mysterious force he still can’t decipher yet melts at the unique swirl of grays of Theo’s eyes.

Liam had met blacks and whites and their mix. But somehow he had never seen them all together. So clean. So perfect.

So close to a colorful world that he could ever be.

It feels like the final attack on Theo’s power, one neither boy knew the chimera had, and Liam’s safe to admit that he lost the battle right before it started.

 

*

 

Theo see things, feels things, taste things the way they’re not supposed to be.

Or so they say.

He doesn’t remember being a kid. Doesn’t remember the way life was or what effect it had in him, but he guesses this isn’t a side effect of needles and nightmares. This is not being chopped and sewed back together or having two animals inside, fighting for a power that nobody else but him have and that he’s not going to lend.

This is, probably, most likely, one of the few things that he kept from the original package. From the little eight year old kid that had asthma because fear was filling up his lungs. The little kid that didn’t kill his sister because he was promised a paradise that had no virgins or glory but a lack of fear and pain.

The little boy that knew that the color yellow tastes bitter at the back of his mouth.

Or that the scent of blood is a cello playing hard and unapologetically offkey.

Or that Liam is a conjunct of sounds and tastes and colors that just makes sense from every corner, like nothing else did before.

 

*

 

Being drawn to the young beta since the beginning falls short into the spectrum of how he feels and yet.

Theo’s sure that at this point it doesn’t matter the threat that hangs over the younger boy like a Damocles sword ready to fall. That it doesn’t matter what a pack he doesn’t want anymore thinks. That it doesn’t matter what he himself thinks.

His priority is to save Liam.

Because in a world of sorrows that sound like the wild roar of a brave sea, where voices are always tingling with the sharp green of anxiety or the light orange of fear. A world where looks feel like stabs at the back of his head and grimaces feels like a blender in the middle of his chest. Where there are never stopping nightmares that make him wake with the taste of sharp needles in his tongue and indigo drowning his sight.

In that world, Liam’s uniqueness is the only thing that fits perfectly. That moves him towards something. That soothes an ache he didn’t know was there.

Something he so much looked for. Something he so much mistook for something else.

And now that he found it, Theo is not ready to lose it.

 

*

 

Along the way, things calm down. It’s like a summer breeze washing over Theo’s body.

He’s in a place that holds memories and ties him to new beginnings. There’s a pack that smells like cold winter morning and dead leafs under your feet. And he sees himself lonelier than ever.

But there’s also a boy, who speaks in red and that shows him that forgiveness feels like feathers dancing down the wind.

That teaches him that everything he wants, he can have, if he waits patiently.

 

*

 

“Could you please put your laundry away?”

It’s been three days that Liam has been piling up dirty clothes on the floor. Three days he has been smelling it non-stop, his senses clashing into one another and disrupting the perfect balance than Liam implies in his life.

It’s maddening.

It’s sickening.

Theo wants it gone.

“I know it smells bad but, dude--”

Liam dismissal does nothing but to fuel a fire Theo doesn’t want to consume his insides. But the boy’s voice now looks tainted with a purplish almost completely blue and feels like ants crawling up his body and he can’t contain himself.

“It doesn’t just smell bad ,” Theo growls, mocking Liam’s reply and seeing the colors mix perfectly with his inherently deep blue. “It-- the snaps . There’s snaps that go oddly quick and they clash with the chimes that are naturally yours and I just--”

His doesn’t know why he blurts it.

Why the words in his mouth need to escape in such a hurried way that he can’t do anything besides feel cotton inside his throat.

He expects Liam to look at him the same way he is doing now. With confusion and a hint of amusement. He can see the questions at the tip of the beta’s tongue too, because he feels them there, weighing down and choking him. But at the same time there’s a layer underneath the baby blue eyes that's pure curiosity, that’s raw need, a swirl of sweet and sour over his tongue and the ants on his skin leaving to give the warmth of a sunny autumn morning over it.

And that is a surprise.

“You hear snaps coming out of my lacrosse bag?”

Theo doesn’t want to reply.

Needing more than ever to bend and twist words enough to save his neck, because he doesn’t want to be dissected further than he already has been. It’s been years upon years of that and here is supposed to be the closest thing to a sanctuary for what’s left of his soul. Being mocked would just get some irreparable damage that’s he’s not ready to deal with, because he can barely handle the wounds that he already harbours deep down in his core.

Even if he knows Liam isn’t exactly a cruel kid, learning from his own past maybe or from a pack that believes that nurturing leads to greater things, there’s still the beating dread that crawls up Theo’s mind and nest there.

He’s different, he knows.

And difference leads to rejection.

One he cannot stand, because is long since gone the guy that could handle the weight of the world on his shoulders with a smirk plastered on his features.

Theo turns to leave, the conversation dead in his mind. He’s not ready. He will never be, probably. But Liam seems invested in getting answers at any cost, as expected. Hurried steps follow, leaving a trace of turquoise at the corners of Theo’s gaze. Before the chimera can even turn around for the stairs, ready to get on his truck and run, Liam blocks his path.

The beta seems about to talk, trying to say who knows what, but Theo doesn’t want to see the red he so much treasures mingled with something cold and harsh like deep dark blue or even black, so he turns around.

The new plan is lock himself in the only room inside the house that could somehow work as a refuge, the only place where he’s left to lick his wounds alone. But Liam denies him of that too, not letting the door close right on his nose and pushing inside with brute force, sending Theo stumbling almost to the floor.

It’s almost like a petty fight from little kids and Theo can only wonder who would be the first to cry.

Quickly righting himself in place and snarling in a way that looks too pink for his liking, the chimera shows sharp fangs that try to hide the almost silent plea. “What do you want from me, Liam!?”

It’s desperation laced on his throat that feels like a car out of control spinning down the road. It looks a vibrant green, with so much light that’s almost blinding. His own chemosignals suddenly all over the place, his room sounding like an unbalanced philharmonic. With banging and whistles in his ears that push him further into distress.  

“I wanna know!”

Liam’s shout is a fresh gulp of air after spending too long underwater, a harsh and clear red that swirls in front of him for what looks like far too long. His chemosignals overpower with a thunder pushing down the philharmonic into a gentle irregular tune under his presence.

It’s just seconds.

Enough time for Theo to put his walls up and make a valiant effort to save an ego he forgot to feed for too long. Trying to win a battle on his own against a world that has every chance of winning, because that’s the only lesson that years had left branded on his mind.

“You wanna know more from the freakish chimera?,” Theo snarls, but this time is purple and deep, “Sure, why not”.

Liam finches in a way he hadn’t done since months. As if he was scared. As if he was worried. There’s the sound of a squealing swing going back and forth with no seeming end at the new wave of emotions coming out the young beta.

“What do you want to know? That your lacrosse bag odor sounds like snaps and your mom’s perfume is a distinct tapping but your scent sounds like soft chimes in the breeze? Or that your voice is vibrant red most of the time, unless you get sad or disappointed and it turns almost maroon, while Mason’s is light orange and anxiety just makes it go almost green? Maybe about how the color of my stupid beige blanket tastes like just cutted grass but the blue of your eyes taste like lemons under the sun and warm vanilla tea?”

Liam doesn’t laugh. There’s no bright red turning yellowish in small dots of light around. He doesn’t flinch either, doesn’t give place to the crawling ants that Theo expected almost welcoming. And his scent doesn’t sound like a thunderstorm about to break loose or like an incessant scratching that seems to never end.

But Theo pushes because that’s the game they have going. They push and they pull and it’s a never ending thing that the chimera has almost ingrained in his brain. Because spitting in the face of your insecurities is tougher that try to mend them.

“Is that enough for you, Liam? Is that the kind of freak show you wanted?”

The beta smiles instead, wide and hopeful, and it feels like a cozy blanket falling over Theo right before falling asleep. His blue eyes turn clearer with tears and sharpens the taste of lemon at the tip of his tongue, of sun warmth, of the delicately sweet tea.

The young beta still doesn’t laugh.

Yet Liam’s lips tremble with emotion that feels like a shower after a long day as he says “Please, tell me again what the color of your blanket is like”

Theo is at loss.

From all the things. From all the rehearsed scenarios in his head, the trained answers he would give, and the deep study he got on everyone to know strengths and weak points and how to feel safer around them.

A blanket is the least thing he expects to throw him off guard.

“What are you try--”

“You’re not a freak,” Liam whines and it looks almost pink with the plea. Theo had never seen that color outside flimsy glances from moments related with Scott, Mason or Hayden at most. Tears now run freely down the face of the beta with every new blink, and the sour taste of the lemon almost drowns down the soft sweetness that so well combines. “You’re a miracle”

It’s just a word, that doesn’t blind him but brightens the whole room. That it’s red but not, it’s also green and pink and a bit of light orange because Liam’s loud voice mixes with a plea and anxiety and a need to know.

The only conjunction that always made sense now off balanced and yet Theo can’t find it anything else besides beautiful .

That makes Theo be the one who cries now.

 

*

 

“Everything is grey”

“Are you singing to me now or--?”

Liam leaves a breathy laugh, small bright red lights like fireflies dancing around, and elbows his ribs without real strength. Theo snorts, the tickles taking the best of him now that he’s somewhat relaxed, and follows it up with a sniffle, trying to regain his composure as the big bad chimera that he barely if remembers now. Because the wall finally crashed all the way down and the sight is too good to build it back.

They have long since stopped being drowned by emotions, the light teal of hiccups and the shuffling sound of embarrassment washed away in the confidency of the shared secret. Now both sitting down on the floor, backs on the bed and shoulders bumping, Theo can feel the shadow of a tickle from time to time but he brushes it off scrunching his nose. One of his hands firmly pressed against the floor, between Liam’s thigh and his, because he needs the grounding more than ever.

“I see everything grey. And black,” Liam shrugs and grimaces at Theo, feeling like cold hands in a winter night pressing against his back, “White actually hurts my eyes a bit”

“Oh,” Theo deflated completely and thinks. Because he read about this, long time ago, when he tried to put a name to the mistake he thought he was. “You’re colorblind”

Liam nods, feeling like walking over damp sand on Theo’s skin, and stays silent for a beat or two before looking back at the chimera.

“How’s it called? What you--? With the colors and the smells and all that”

“Synesthesia”

A word that always felt like a fatal diagnose and now it just exist in the air in front of him, a light indigo with pieces of proud white.

The beta wolf nods again, this time feeling more like the ocean washing through the chimera’s toes. Theo can see in the lines of Liam’s jaw that he’s dying to ask for more, to know what lays under the carpet, but that he’s too much of a goodie two shoes to actually cave.

Like the crack of a thunder in his head, the idea of Liam, the only one he knows that deserves everything and it’s denied of something so simple as knowing what colors look like, makes his skin too tight and too right at the same time.

He’s been so used to be a curse than the sole idea of being perhaps a sort of miracle for someone makes him fall into a swirl of emotions he never let himself explore.  It’s warm and sweet. Bitter too. Everything enhanced to the most because this is Liam and things don’t go half assed when he’s involved. Not even senses, not even feelings.

It’s everything he wants it to be.

“Your shirt--,” Liam’s gaze falls back on Theo and there’s a battle between the sour and the sweet, but the last one seems to win, “-- it’s deep blue. It tastes like those really sour candies Dr. Geyer likes so much”.

Liam seems transfixed before a smile, soft at the edges in a way that makes Theo feel like static is taking over his body, spreads over his lips. “Your eyes…,” he mumbles and looks down, embarrassed. It smells like hiccups and looks like a redish indigo he can’t yet understand. “Grey it’s not really unique besides being lighter or darker, but your eyes-- There’s specks of light and spots of black and the grey is just-- it’s a swirl of grays like I’ve never seen”.

“They-- they’re green,” Theo frowns for a moment, clears his throat and tries to not feel overwhelmed with emotions by the confession the beta just shared with him. That in a world of grey, his eyes are more than plain. “It taste like raspberry ice cream out of the carton and cinnamon tingling over your tongue”.

“Good,” says Liam, his voice lighter than before. The red is there, swarming around, vibrant and full.

“How can it be good?”

There’s no real answer. No more words leaving the beta’s mouth, but instead one of Liam’s hand falls idly over his, not quite completely. The tip of the beta’s fingers shyly crooking to tangle with the chimera’s and Theo doesn’t know what to do with the fireworks going off inside his chest.

He wants to tell Liam that he’s a miracle too. That seeing a monochrome world and growing up to be the definition of a sunlight morning on December after the first snow or the scrape of damp grass under your feet in summer has to be the biggest miracle life could have come with.

That being the only thing for Theo to look up to, to follow, to cherish dearly.

Liam’s a miracle too and the chimera, easy with words, find them tangled and mixed and unable to go out.

It’s with the soft pressure of lips over Liam’s, that makes the beta’s breath hitch and taste the red over his tongue, that’s spicy and thick, drowning the deep blue that lives in his vocal chords. It’s too fast and too soon but it was there and Theo finds himself opening his eyes when they pull apart, that he’s not sure when fell closed, to meet Liam’s baby blue that taste sweeter than ever.

There’s still no words, just a warm silence falling between them both again, one Theo doesn’t want to ever die because it feels like the first day of spring, like sunflowers chasing the sunlight, like home.

As if Liam could read his thought, the soft smile grows wider and the warmth seeps through Theo’s pores until it nests in the middle of his chest and threats to burst.

The chimera shifts his hand and crooks his fingers to lace them properly with the beta’s, his gaze falling towards it. There’s a squeeze, gentle, that feels like understanding. Like words falling in place with no sound.

A boy with no colors in his life and a boy with an excess of sensations for them, gravitating around each other, like a whole miracle on its own.

As if it was written in the stars.

The new kiss against his lips is yellow, in pure happiness, and Theo can only think of how wrong that little kid was at even thinking it was bitter to begin with.

It taste like nothing else but whole .

Notes:

astripta;
from latin astra and scripta
written in the stars, to tie something to fate.

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