Work Text:
The first thing Derek sees when he walks into the bathroom is the bloody handprint splayed on the glass mirror. It's smeared, some of the blood running down the glass, dripping off the mirror to cascade into the sink, staining the white porcelain an inky red.
The bathroom floor is speckled with drops of blood, tiny little spots that all link to one another, like they were put there to be followed.
They lead to the bathtub.
Derek's stomach plummets, eyes burning with the sting of tears, his throat closing up as a faint, choked cry slips past his lips.
"S-S-Stiles."
Stiles's eyes are still open, half-lidded, like he'd died before he could close them. His skin is pasty white, lips having lost their pink flush, now just a bruised, bluish purple. Both of his wrists are slashed open, blood flowing from them freely and filling the bathtub with dark liquid.
Derek falls to his knees, feels the sob building in his chest, lets it escape, listens to how it eats through the silence in the room. His eyes stare ahead, blank, tears finally spilling over.
Written in blood on the wall beside Stiles's body, letters slick and shimmering in the light, are four words.
WHERE WERE YOU DEREK.