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It was supposed to be the day of their graduation. They were meant to still be in their suits and dresses and gowns, although ties and heels were probably disregarded by now. Stiles had told Derek that he didn't have to come, that it was okay, that he was too busy saving lives in New York. Derek couldn't quite shake the guilt, but he made Stiles promise to document every little thing and tell him all about it when he came to visit and then hopefully stay for college.
Derek was napping between night and day shifts when his phone started ringing.
" Hmm, Stiles, how many items of clothing have you lost so far? Cora and I are having a bet and you better win me this one." He still couldn't quite open his eyes, barely having gotten 20 minutes of sleep, but he had to be present somehow.
" It's Scott, Derek, I know you're probably still at the hospital, but – "
" Scott? Oh no, how wasted is Stiles?"
" Okay, fuck, I need you to hear me out and not completely freak out, okay? Because it's sort of a lot to take in and everyone here is a mess and I don't know what I'm doing, so just –"
" What's going on, Scott? Is everybody okay?"
" Yeah. No, I don't know. We're at the hospital, Derek, and – Stiles is hurt. Badly."
Something instantly snapped inside of Derek, as he registered that something had gone so horribly wrong with Stiles and he couldn't do anything about it – again. He threw himself away from the bed, struggling to find any form of balance when everything was suddenly tilting, spiraling.
" Wh – what do you mean hurt? What's wrong with him? Wh – "
" Shit, I don't know how to say this. Derek, he found out he has frontotemporal dementia. Like Claudia. And – "
" Wait, wait, wait. Stop talking. No, he doesn't. I just talked to him a couple of hours ago, he was fine." Derek felt like he was plummeting, falling and crashing and breaking so far apart, he didn't know if he'd ever feel put together again, if anything of his would survive this fall.
" He got the diagnosis last month. You had your exams and he – he said he'd tell you when he came to see you, but – he collapsed in the bathroom, right before they called him up on stage, and – mom is with him now but it's not looking good, Derek. It - it's really fucking bad." Scott's voice cracked, and something in Derek kind of did too.
They both fell silent, Scott trying – and failing – to not completely lose it, while Derek struggled to think of a version of reality where Stiles just ceased to exist. He shook his head, shuddered, decided that he couldn't fathom one because there could never be a universe that he'd live in, that he'd take any part of, knowing that Stiles couldn't. Stiles had always promised that he could count him in, could always believe in his consistency, in him always being there. And he had to be. He just – he had to.
" I don't – I don't know what I'm supposed to do. What does any of this even mean? He – he was fine. He was okay, Scott, and now – does John know? Fuck, Scott, what should I do?"
Derek was pacing, hands moving between his hair and the doorknob and his shoes and the paperwork he had to finish before the end of his shift and a thousand other things that he wanted to find a grip on but couldn't.
" Okay, okay, let's just be rational here. There's nothing we can do for him yet, so you just – you keep doing what you're doing, do your job, focus on that, and – I'll keep you posted, I promise." Derek heard the fear laced in Scott's voice, could tell exactly when it started to give out on him. Scott sounded like he did, years and years ago, when he was first bitten and didn't know what to do with himself. Derek heard the I'm losing my best friend and I don't have time to lick your wounds because I don't know how to and I shouldn't have to because I should never be losing my best friend. And he knew what he had to do. He always had.
" No, no way. I'm going to get on the first flight home." Derek exited the break room, immediately seeking out someone to inform that he had to leave, that Stiles needed him and he needed to be there.
" What? No, Derek. Seriously, man, there's nothing for you to do here. You're going to lose your residency which you've worked so hard for. He wouldn't want that."
" I don't care. Can you call Lydia? Tell her to work out everything with the ticketing, because I need to talk to my boss first."
" Derek, you love this job – "
" I love him more. How is this even a discussion right now?" Derek rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to defend the love he spent years trying to validate, to solidify and protect.
" You know what, I have to go, text me with the flight details." With that, he pushed his way into the chief's office, remaining professional and collected for maybe three minutes, before everything started pouring out of him and he ended up crying long after his chief had excused himself to finish the paperwork and give him some space to collect himself. It didn't work. He just needed to get to Stiles.
Lydia texted him the ticket number and departure time which was seven hours away, before he could even ask her why it couldn't be sooner, she already explained that there were no earlier flights, and that trying to get there by land would take longer, so it would be best for him to wait. But waiting was never Derek's strong suit, especially when he was coiled so tightly, so achingly close to snapping. So he ended up in the hospital's church, hiding away from all the doctors and nurses and interns wanting to ask him why he was leaving so suddenly. He didn't think he could make it through the story without cracking a bit more open and he couldn't. Couldn't say his name without crying it out and he was so – completely drained after that minor breakdown he had in the chief's office. So he prayed, for probably the first time since – well, since his mother taught him how to, when he was four years old and terrified of something bad happening to her after a fight with some stray witches. He didn't think he'd remember how to, didn't think it'd feel like anything, but once he opened his mouth, years started melting away, stories flowing out of him so painlessly, he forgot anything had ever hurt.
By the time he had nothing left to say, his throat felt raw, tender, his eyes swollen, burning, but his chest had more room for things to hold, now that he'd let some of it out onto the world, spoken and wept and begged. So, he packed what was left of his belongings and made his way to the airport. Apparently, Stiles was asleep, and when Derek pushed Scott a little, he confessed that he had a minor concussion brought on by the fall, not the dementia. Which was yet another thing for Derek to worry about, despite it feeling so insignificant when compared to the dark cloud pouring above all their heads.
It took him maybe six hours of are we there yet and can you hurry the fuck up please and this is taking too long until he was banging against the nurses' desk, demanding answers that they probably didn't have. Scott came running, pulling him by the arm to where he assumed Stiles' room was. Then he stopped in front of a door, pulling him into a frantic hug.
" It's so good to see you, man. I know you probably shouldn't be here, but – we all kind of really needed you. Stiles, the sheriff, me. All of us."
Derek didn't know what to say to that, didn't know how to be present in someone's time of need, thought he was too selfish to be needed. He knew he needed Stiles, knew he had to be around him, but in his mind, it didn't add up yet that Stiles needed him too, that he would be required to be there and not totally make everything about him and what this would do to him. Derek didn't trust himself enough to do that, to be that, but Scott seemed to, and that had to be enough for now. So he tightened his grip on Scott, nodded against his shoulder, and willed him to understand.
" Where is he?" Scott pulled away, wiped beneath his eyes like he was crying or at least trying not to.
" In there, everyone is with him."
And they were. Lydia, Malia, and Mason were sharing a couch, while Liam, Melissa, and Kira conversed with the seemingly barely held together sheriff. But Derek's eyes immediately fell onto the figure laying on the hospital bed, covered in sheets and blankets because Stiles always got too cold, a smile curving around chapped lips, skin so pale it almost molded into the whiteness of everything around it, and Derek's heart ached like he was falling in love. Or like it was breaking apart. One or the other. Maybe a bit of both.
" Stiles," The name slipped past his lips, sounding like another prayer, as he pushed past the small crowd, folding on top of Stiles, surrounding him, hiding him, trying so hard to protect him.
" I thought your shift was supposed to end in two more hours."
Derek knew that Stiles was trying to lighten the mood, because that was what he always did. Always tried to pour something good into any shitty situation, but Derek didn't have it in him to do anything but try not to cry, so he shook his head, buried his face in Stiles' shoulder and tried to breathe him in.
" I love you." And Stiles knew that. He knew it since Derek started jumping in front of bullets for him even when he didn't have to, when there was no direct threat to Stiles. He knew it since he started waking up from nightmares to Derek's arms every time his dad had a night shift. He knew it since he started feeling Derek's eyes on him all the time, and every time he tried to look back, Derek's cheeks would be tinted in red and his body would radiate a bit more heat than normal. He knew it since he started saying it, carefully at first, then effortlessly, like it was a fact of life. But it brought a smile to his face every time he heard it, feeling brand new.
" I love you too. How long do I have you for?"
" For good. I don't have to go anymore. I'm not leaving."
" What?" Stiles put his cold hands onto Derek's head, tried to push back, to find his eyes and search for the promise in them. He was feeling happy and scared and angry and a lot of other things that he couldn't place, couldn't quite remember a name for.
" It doesn't matter, none of it matters, are you feeling okay? Are you in any pain?"
Stiles shook his head, tried to laugh, but it came out wet and breathless. Derek buried himself into him again, and he didn't know if he was holding or being held, but it felt comfortable, like maybe Stiles wasn't slipping away after all, maybe Derek wasn't so utterly useless.
" I can't believe you didn't tell me about your diagnosis. So fucking stupid."
" I'd rather leave the fight leading up to the aggressive make-up sex to when my dad isn't in the room."
And oh, people still existed outside their little bubble, and things continued to happen in the world that weren't necessarily Stiles-centric. So Derek pulled slightly away from Stiles, rubbing his neck awkwardly, as everyone started to greet him, until it was the sheriff's turn, and the way he held Derek, was like he was trying to piece him together all over again.
And then they started dispersing away, letting Derek and Stiles be. With pats on backs and sympathetic smiles, Derek closed the door behind the last of them, turning back to Stiles, who had a smile that looked like coming home.
" Hey, handsome."
" Hey," Derek sighed, leaned down enough to rest his lips against Stiles', and just leave them there.
" Are you as tired as I look?"
" Very tired, yeah." Derek's eyes fell shut, feeling the truth of his words down to his bones.
" Want to get some rest? Come here." Stiles started attempting to scoot away, make some room for Derek because that was what he always seemed to do, trying to fit him in, make enough space for him to want to stay.
" No, no. I still need to talk to the doctors, and, change out of these clothes, and – "
" You don't have to do that right now. Come lay with me, I missed you." And really, what could Derek say to that? So, he silently laid down next to Stiles, feeling his ribs poking through his sides, his figure everything that Derek's wasn't. Cold, thin, bony, like Derek was continuously bumping into a wooden table that was coated with steel, and it would always be there, he'd hit into every single time, and it would hurt all the same.
" I missed you too. So much." Derek whispered, after silence had enveloped them, and he realized he wasn't quite ready for it.
" Did you really leave your job for me?"
" I'd leave it all for you, Stiles, you know that."
" But – it's not worth it. You – you worked your ass off for this, and you love it. And – when it's all over, you'll regret leaving the one thing that makes you happy behind." Derek looked down upon Stiles, a frown itched between his eyebrows. Everything that Stiles was saying was so unfathomable to him.
" What are you talking about?"
" Babe, there's no cure for this. It's just – it all gets worse from here, and – I need you to have something to come back to. Something that'll keep you grounded and – make things feel less shitty, give you something to focus on." Stiles was trying to be as kind as possible, as he tore Derek's life in half.
" I'll focus on you, on getting you better, and being there for you and loving you. I will always come back to you, Stiles. I promised you that and I would never break that promise." This time, Stiles did sit up, taking Derek's face into his hands, trying to convey a certain truth that Derek refused to believe.
" You're not listening to me. There is no getting me better. There's no always with me, not anymore. I've seen what this does to people, I've seen how it goes, and – I'm not going to put you through this. Or my dad, or Scott, or anyone. I – I need to know you're going to be okay, and – I know how you grieve, or rather, how you avoid it, and – I don't want you to become another John Stilinski. I don't want this to keep you from all you can become, Derek, because – "
" Stop. Stop it, Stiles. We're not saying goodbye. I – you promised you would never leave me, right? You promised."
" I swear if there was anything I could do, I would have done it. I – I don't want to leave you, sourwolf, I love you. I love you so much and I wanted that forever I promised you, but – I will spend all the rest of my days being in love with you, and I'll haunt you like crazy."
Derek could hear a faraway cry, getting closer, until it was coming out of his own mouth, bouncing off Stiles' chest, echoing somewhere between them until they couldn't tell, which of them was crying, and which was promising a future that was being stripped away from their hands.
" You can't – you can't say things like that. Please. Let me – let me try to figure out something. Scott and I read all about it with the nogitsune and – we can ask Deaton for help. Just – don't give up yet. Please. I love you and I – you can't leave me too." Stiles sniffled, nodded, resting his forehead against Derek's.
" I'm so tired, Derek." Stiles whispered, like he didn't want to speak it to the world, just to Derek.
" I know. Get some sleep. I'll be here."
And he was. He helped him shower and change into clean clothes before going home – after yet another emotional argument with both Derek and the sheriff about how he wouldn't die in that hospital, wouldn't let his father sit by his side and watch him fade, he wouldn't put him through that again. Derek was so angry, he had to take a walk. But he came back, because he always would, and Stiles was tired looking but relieved. Derek tried not to think that maybe Stiles forgot all about that fight.
The next few days were a blur of Derek moving between Scott and Deaton and Lydia, trying to find something, anything that would help somehow, wouldn't feel like another fuck you, he's going to die too. But there was nothing scientific or spiritual or even magical that would make him better, keep him from looking so dazed and distant all the time. And Derek was running on frustration and no sleep and he felt so.. hollowed out. So empty. He could barely last a few minutes in Stiles' room before the itch to escape would settle in, and he'd have to leave in a state of blind panic that if he stayed any longer, if he waited for a few more minutes, he'd watch Stiles die before he could ever save him.
Until one day, he was in Stiles' living room, with Chris, Scott, Deaton, and the sheriff. Scott was shutting every possible solution down and Chris was talking about how there was nothing new that they'd find out and nothing old that would help and Derek was just – losing it.
" Derek,"
" Don't you think I know that? I know there's nothing medical that would help him. I know he's getting worse by the minute and it shouldn't be getting this bad this fast, but it is, and – fuck, I know, Scott. Would you just – stop fucking shoving it down my throat? I don't need this from you right now." Derek deflated, his voice choked because of everything he wanted to say but couldn't, and everything he was saying but wanted to take back. Scott sighed, almost as drained as Derek was, as he pushed himself off the couch, putting both hands onto Derek's shoulder, and squeezing the helplessness right out of him.
" What you need, is Stiles. You need to talk to him, Derek. He misses you and you're supposed to be right there. Go, be with him, let us do some of the work, and I'll tell you everything we know, it'll be like you're with us."
" I'm scared, Scott."
" I am too, trust me. We all are, and that's okay. We care about him and he's unwell and – of course we get to be terrified. But you're wasting precious time with him. And I don't want you to regret this, if, you know,"
" Don't. Don't say that. Don't even think it. Nothing is going to happen to him."
" Yeah. I hope so. Now, go get some sleep, or, I don't know, shower,"
" Or come cuddle with me, that seems like a better idea than anything Scott could come up with." Derek turned around so quickly, he swore he pulled something, but Stiles was resting against the staircase, Malia standing beside him, prepared to ease his tumble if it ever came.
" What are you doing out of bed? You're supposed to be resting." The sheriff said, buying Derek some time to figure out whatever the hell he wanted to say.
" I'm fine, dad, really. Now, I'm going to take my boyfriend and we're going to go for a walk, while everyone here will sleep for at least six hours. I need you to stop fussing, okay? I'm not going to die tomorrow."
" Stop making those jokes. You're not funny." Derek finally found his words, inching closer and helping Stiles down the last of the stairs.
" I think I'm a little funny." Stiles pecked Derek's lips, his arms circling around his neck.
" You're usually not the best judge when it comes to pretty much anything."
" Hey, that's not true. I wasn't wrong about you."
" No, you weren't. I love you." Derek still sounded defeated, but something softened in his eyes, when Stiles couldn't help his smile as he said it back.
" Let's get out of here."
And so they did. They started walking, with no real destination, stopping every once in a while to allow Stiles some rest. His body wasn't as strong as it used to be, and every time he started stinking of ache, Derek felt a little dimmer, losing a bit more of hope. He was kind of tempted to just lay down on the ground and cover himself in dirt, see if the earth would swallow him before Stiles. They didn't really speak of illnesses or treatments or any of it, and the longer their walks got, the easier it was for Derek to forget, to feel things other than the crushing weight on his chest. And he remembered all the little things that made him fall in love, like Stiles' full-body laugh, or how he was always seeking him out with a touch or a look or anything that would make him feel skin-close.
It was easy. It always had been with Stiles. Loving him was the easiest thing in the world for Derek. It felt like every day it was something else, something new to fall in love with, or something that he already knew that he just.. loved more. And right then, in the middle of nowhere, with the sun coming up around them, Derek felt like he was the most in love with Stiles he'd ever been. But he knew that he'd somehow manage to love him even more the next day, and if nothing else, wasn't that something to look forward to?
At around 10 am, Stiles was molding into Derek's side, delirious with sleep. When Derek put him to bed and tried to go back to research, Stiles shook his head, tugged at his arm and basically begged for him to stay. So he did. They woke up almost seven hours later. Stiles woke up first, stared at Derek and wondered how he ever got so lucky, before Derek started stirring. Cora arrived that day, joining the research squad, that Stiles was also a part of, when he felt like he had the energy for it.
" I think the bite is the only way out of this." Mason said, closing an old book he had in hand.
" He doesn't want to be a werewolf, we have to find something else." Derek dismissed the suggestion that he'd heard multiple times before.
" No, but there is nothing else, Derek. And even if there is, we could easily run out of time before we find it, and then what?" Derek lifted his head from the book he had in hand, all his features clinched as he tried to restrain the fury about to seep through. But before he could lash out, Stiles was humming against his lap, waking up from his nap.
" I'll do it." Stiles' eyes were still closed, his hands cushioning his head, his legs sprawled against the couch, that only fit the two of them.
" Do what?" Scott questioned, as terrified as he was excited.
" I'll take the bite."
" No, you won't." Derek started shifting away, like he was trying to outrun Stiles, trying to do it before Stiles could.
" What did we say about you trying to cancel me out when it's something directly affecting my life?" Stiles squinted one eye opened, before he started sitting up, rubbing the rest of the sleep away from his eyes.
" This isn't what I'm doing. It's just, not the right call. We'll figure something else out."
" You've been trying for weeks now. You told me to give you a chance, and I did. But you're putting your own life and all of their lives on hold for my own, and that's not going to work."
" And neither will this."
" Well if we're screwed either way then I might as well give it a shot. If it works, it works, if not, then we reached the same result, only faster."
Derek was infuriated. He felt like Stiles was being intentionally cruel, saying all the things he knew would hurt, just for the hell of it.
" You keep fucking saying that, I told you – "
" Because it's the truth, Derek, okay? You can hate it all you want, you can even hate me for it, but it will still remain the one concrete fact about all of this. I am going to die if we don't try something."
Derek was standing now, chest heaving, his heart beating so viciously against his bones, wanting to break them too, along with it. His palms were locked, formed into a fist that he was so prepared to break through the world with. But he didn't. He simply turned around, grabbed his coat, and put on his shoes. He shook his head when Cora offered to come along, didn't bother with a response when Scott started apologizing, telling him to wait. And when he opened the door to leave, he let a few words fall away.
" I don't hate you. I could never hate you."
And then he left, beating Stiles to it.
When he came back, Stiles was on the couch, with his father, watching a Melissa McCarthy movie, and laughing like their world wasn't collapsing onto itself. Derek silently sat down next to Stiles, inching a little bit closer, until he had his head on his chest, and Stiles circled his arms around him as if welcoming him home.
" Are you still going to take the bite?"
" Watch the movie, Derek."
" Stiles." Derek whined, all childlike after the rage had melted away. Stiles stared at him, patient, knowing, willing him to understand. And he did. He knew they were right. It was just.. so hard for him to give in, to succumb to the urgency of the situation.
" What if you're too weak and the bite doesn't take?"
" I'm too weak for this, Derek. We need to at least try." Derek wanted to cry. He sighed instead, burying his face further into Stiles.
" I love you."
" I love you too."
Two days later, they were in Stiles' room, with all the needed equipment that Deaton asked for. It was only Derek, Scott, Melissa, the sheriff and Deaton, in case anything went terribly wrong. The rest agreed to give them some space, except for Cora, who was waiting in her car outside, wanting to be there for Derek if she couldn't be there for Stiles. They'd agreed that Derek would be the one to give Stiles the bite, since Scott was only recently a werewolf, and even more recently an alpha, so he didn't have the expertise that Derek did, or the control for that matter. Also, it was kind of an intimate experience and Derek couldn't bear the thought of anyone else doing this with Stiles.
" Are you sure you want this?" Derek asked, one last time.
" I'm sure." Stiles breathed out, sounding nervous and just.. exhausted.
" Okay. It's going to hurt like hell at first, and then you should pass out. Melissa gave you something for the pain, but if the bite takes, any meds would be pointless, and your body will just take its time to heal. You know that, right?"
" I know, Derek. I've seen you do it before and I've read a shit ton of books, don't worry. I've got this."
" I know you do. If anyone can do this, it's you. But you better come back to me, okay? You better not leave me, Stiles."
" I will do my best." Stiles lifted his head slightly up, planting a kiss to Derek's lips, before fully laying down again.
After Derek bit through Stiles' arm, he started following the movement of his chest, wondering if it would cease, if it would make a sound when it stopped. He wondered how quiet it would be after. But it didn't stop, in fact, it got quicker, stronger, but the sounds that Stiles made, were so much worse than any silence could have been. Derek wondered if Stiles would scream him into oblivion.
It took Derek twenty four hours to be persuaded to leave Stiles' bedside, to shower and change away from the clothes covered in Stiles' blood, like he'd murdered him. Derek kind of felt like he did. But when he came back to the room, Stiles was in new clothes, sleeping so soundly, it almost sent Derek into a panic attack, until he found his heartbeat, present and steady. So he took one of Stiles' books, started reading to him out loud to keep his company, or feel less useless. But then Stiles' breathing shifted, his eyes faltering like he was waking from deep slumber. His eyes glowed gold until they fell on Derek and they faded back to the warm brown he knew every speck of.
" Stiles, I – are you okay?" Derek was above Stiles, his hands around his face, his eyes searching, longing.
" I – I'm fine. Are my eyebrows doing the same things yours do? Because if not, I want a refund." Derek's laughter was surprising, filled with so much joy, he didn't know how to handle it.
Derek kissed him until Scott and the sheriff rushed into the room, followed by the piling pack, until everyone was there, marveling upon Stiles' effortless strength, his grace even through the most difficult moments. Derek remembered how in love he thought he was with him yesterday, thought of how much more love there was in his heart today, couldn't wait for tomorrow and the day after and all the lifetimes he would spend with Stiles.
(Derek kept his promise. Didn't leave without him. They both just stayed.)