ficlet: Don't Let Me Get Me
Artist:froggydarren
Title: Don't Let Me Get Me
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Character/s: Derek, Stiles
Summary: The face that’s staring at him when he looks into the mirror is a stranger. He used to like this room at times, it was where he hid away when the family gatherings became too big and too loud. But that was years ago, in a different lifetime.
Warnings: mention of the Hale house fire, Derek's guilt and self-hatred
Content Notes: Derek POV, inspired by lyrics
Submission Type: ficlet
Word Count: 720
Prompt: #203 - hazard
Author's Notes: I had zero ideas for this one, and even less time to write it, but because I'm me, I had to write something ;) So with the help of P!nk and her song (and a little extra inspiration from this art by Tsuminoaru, I ended up (yet again) in Derek's mind, working through his issues. With a happy ending, of course. Not Betaed, as usual.
Everyday I fight a war against the mirror
I can't take the person staring back at me
I'm a hazard to myself
Don't let me get me
I'm my own worst enemy
There’s one room in the house that was barely touched by the flames. The edges of the doorframe are charred, it’s filled with a layer of ashes, and it still smells like smoke, but its contents are like Derek remembers them.
It wasn’t anyone’s, barely a guest room that no one liked to use because it was too far away from everything and everyone else. It only had a single bed, the wood of the frame now rotting and nails rusty at the joints, and a small wardrobe in the corner. Next to it is the only mirror that survived intact in the entire house. It’s why Derek comes back here, why he stays longer than in the remnants of any other rooms.
The face that’s staring at him when he looks into the mirror is a stranger. He used to like this room at times, it was where he hid away when the family gatherings became too big and too loud. But that was years ago, in a different lifetime.
He flashes his eyes sometimes, cringes at the red that stares back at him the same way he used to cringe at the blue before, in moments when he felt more vulnerable. It’s not healthy, a part of him remembers that piece of advice from the few sessions of counselling that Laura strong-armed him into in New York. But he can’t stop looking, can’t stop staring, and can’t stop wishing he was someone else at least for a while.
---
When Derek moves, there is very little that he brings with him from the old house. Partly because there is not much left, and partly because what is there only carries bad memories and pain. But the mirror follows him, the one thing he can’t leave behind.
He doesn’t look into it as much anymore. His pack is around more than he expected them to be, Betas drawn to his Alpha power, pulled together by an urge they can’t explain. And there’s Peter, resurrected and seemingly ever-present, even though he doesn’t live in the loft.
Some evenings though, Derek finds himself in front of the smudged mirror. His eyes flash, and he sometimes wishes they didn’t. He doesn’t hate the wolf in him, but he is angry at what that side has led to. The guilt never goes away, the pain intensifies with each new loss. During the day and when others are around he tries to be what they need him to be, what he’s expected to be. At night, alone, Derek wishes for a different skin and for freedom from who he is.
---
It takes years. It’s a slow process, and involves a lot of healing and even more fighting with himself. And it involves someone who’s never seen him as the villain that Derek saw himself as, getting him arrested notwithstanding.
“Hey, I didn’t know you,” Stiles protests whenever it comes up in conversation, which is surprisingly often. “You were just a strange beautiful guy in a leather jacket and a hot car who had a habit of glaring and looking dangerous. Also, I was a little scared of you.”
“So you got me in handcuffs,” Derek deadpans.
“Well, how was I to know then that you’d have been willing to do that without the law involved, for funsies?” Stiles replies.
“For funsies,” Derek says, and he sighs. “That’s how you describe it. Have you regressed back to those days? Are you… afraid of me?” Derek asks, and there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes.
He sees it, because Stiles insisted on the mirror being present in their new home. It’s right next to their bed, polished and clean now, without the trace scent of smoke.
It took a long time to get here, to this house and to where they are, and Stiles pulled a lot of the weight off Derek’s shoulders to allow them to do that. It paid off, and they both know that the road was worth it, for all its twists and turns and setbacks. When Derek looks into the mirror now, he doesn’t hate what he sees anymore.
Title: Don't Let Me Get Me
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Character/s: Derek, Stiles
Summary: The face that’s staring at him when he looks into the mirror is a stranger. He used to like this room at times, it was where he hid away when the family gatherings became too big and too loud. But that was years ago, in a different lifetime.
Warnings: mention of the Hale house fire, Derek's guilt and self-hatred
Content Notes: Derek POV, inspired by lyrics
Submission Type: ficlet
Word Count: 720
Prompt: #203 - hazard
Author's Notes: I had zero ideas for this one, and even less time to write it, but because I'm me, I had to write something ;) So with the help of P!nk and her song (and a little extra inspiration from this art by Tsuminoaru, I ended up (yet again) in Derek's mind, working through his issues. With a happy ending, of course. Not Betaed, as usual.
Everyday I fight a war against the mirror
I can't take the person staring back at me
I'm a hazard to myself
Don't let me get me
I'm my own worst enemy
There’s one room in the house that was barely touched by the flames. The edges of the doorframe are charred, it’s filled with a layer of ashes, and it still smells like smoke, but its contents are like Derek remembers them.
It wasn’t anyone’s, barely a guest room that no one liked to use because it was too far away from everything and everyone else. It only had a single bed, the wood of the frame now rotting and nails rusty at the joints, and a small wardrobe in the corner. Next to it is the only mirror that survived intact in the entire house. It’s why Derek comes back here, why he stays longer than in the remnants of any other rooms.
The face that’s staring at him when he looks into the mirror is a stranger. He used to like this room at times, it was where he hid away when the family gatherings became too big and too loud. But that was years ago, in a different lifetime.
He flashes his eyes sometimes, cringes at the red that stares back at him the same way he used to cringe at the blue before, in moments when he felt more vulnerable. It’s not healthy, a part of him remembers that piece of advice from the few sessions of counselling that Laura strong-armed him into in New York. But he can’t stop looking, can’t stop staring, and can’t stop wishing he was someone else at least for a while.
---
When Derek moves, there is very little that he brings with him from the old house. Partly because there is not much left, and partly because what is there only carries bad memories and pain. But the mirror follows him, the one thing he can’t leave behind.
He doesn’t look into it as much anymore. His pack is around more than he expected them to be, Betas drawn to his Alpha power, pulled together by an urge they can’t explain. And there’s Peter, resurrected and seemingly ever-present, even though he doesn’t live in the loft.
Some evenings though, Derek finds himself in front of the smudged mirror. His eyes flash, and he sometimes wishes they didn’t. He doesn’t hate the wolf in him, but he is angry at what that side has led to. The guilt never goes away, the pain intensifies with each new loss. During the day and when others are around he tries to be what they need him to be, what he’s expected to be. At night, alone, Derek wishes for a different skin and for freedom from who he is.
---
It takes years. It’s a slow process, and involves a lot of healing and even more fighting with himself. And it involves someone who’s never seen him as the villain that Derek saw himself as, getting him arrested notwithstanding.
“Hey, I didn’t know you,” Stiles protests whenever it comes up in conversation, which is surprisingly often. “You were just a strange beautiful guy in a leather jacket and a hot car who had a habit of glaring and looking dangerous. Also, I was a little scared of you.”
“So you got me in handcuffs,” Derek deadpans.
“Well, how was I to know then that you’d have been willing to do that without the law involved, for funsies?” Stiles replies.
“For funsies,” Derek says, and he sighs. “That’s how you describe it. Have you regressed back to those days? Are you… afraid of me?” Derek asks, and there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes.
He sees it, because Stiles insisted on the mirror being present in their new home. It’s right next to their bed, polished and clean now, without the trace scent of smoke.
It took a long time to get here, to this house and to where they are, and Stiles pulled a lot of the weight off Derek’s shoulders to allow them to do that. It paid off, and they both know that the road was worth it, for all its twists and turns and setbacks. When Derek looks into the mirror now, he doesn’t hate what he sees anymore.