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Summary
Three days before his two-year Samwell reunion, Derek wakes up to find he doesn’t belong in his apartment anymore. As he jolts awake in a cold sweat from a dream he only half-remembers, exhaling a name he doesn’t let himself think about anymore, the only thing he can think is I need to go home.
Yeah, he loves California—not like New York, because New York is and will always be one of the great loves of his life—but loves it all the same, the mountains that roll into the bay like discarded scarves and the fog unfurling over San Francisco before the light has the chance to take charge and the dark gold the sun brings out in his skin. He's happy. Probably. Maybe this is what happy is supposed to feel like.
But the morning Derek wakes up with Will’s name on his lips is the morning home stops feeling like home.
In which nobody deals with their feelings, at all, ever. Until they do.