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The headache was pounding against his skull, as if willing him to understand something he couldn't quite fathom. His stomach was flipping and turning, trying to get what was inside of him, out. He just felt like shit, hungover, sore, and irritable, sitting through stories of his roommate's latest wild night shift. He'd heard plenty of those before, he knew how they went. But this one was probably wilder than usual, since the world seemed to have burned down around them when that intern killed himself during shooting practice.
" Where did you go by the way? You disappeared after the funeral."
Stiles' hazy mind immediately went to hugs and holds and cries so loud he feared it'd send the entire place into a state of panic. He thought of beds and sheets and bare bodies and words he didn't know when he'd ever hear again. And then he thought of all of those, abandoned, deserted, empty. Then he stopped himself from thinking about anything at all.
" I'm going to take a shower."
" Wait, but you didn’t tell me – " Stiles closed the bathroom door before he heard the end of that sentence that demanded answers he simply didn't have, didn't know if he'd ever get.
He took his sweet time with it, until there was no more hot water, and then some. He put on his uniform, thinking about the seminar they'd have to attend about all the reasons why you shouldn't commit suicide and all the signs you should see in those around you. But the thing was, that he didn't know the intern, had no way of seeing any signs or even doing anything about them. So why did he feel so.. shitty? Why did he feel like he was constantly on the verge of a panic attack? Why did he need Derek so terribly? Ached for him in ways he never really had before?
He was still too hungover for any of this.
" So, Stiles, since it's my turn to do the laundry, do I also include the shirt that's two sizes too big for you? And in your least favorite color?" Connor – the roommate – questioned, and Stiles could feel the amusement dripping from his voice.
" Yeah, you do that."
" What about the socks? Or the tie? Or – "
" Wash all of it, Connor. Or, get rid of it. I don't care." Stiles busied himself with buttoning up his shirt, burying the tremble of his hands into something.
" Oh come on, man, you're not going to at least tell me who it was? Or why he didn't spend the night? Maybe he did and I just missed him. If so, why did he leave in such a rush? Are you going to see him again? How cute was he and how good was the sex? I have so many questions."
" Connor," Stiles forced out, trying really hard not to punch through something, " Can't we just let this one go? Just this one fucking thing, God." Stiles' fisted palms gave up on trying to curl around anything else other than themselves, as he grabbed his tie and suit-jacket and walked out of the room.
He breathed, once, twice, before he collected himself enough to head to the seminar. As expected, it lasted for almost six hours and by the time it was done, so was he. He went back to his room, ignored his ringing phone and the clearing throat of his roommate who was clearly still prepared for a conversation that Stiles just wouldn't give, and went straight to sleep.
He had a few days of drinking during any and all breaks and spending the nights by the toilet, throwing his guts out to keep from having to talk to Connor and explain why he was making such a fool of himself, why he was letting himself be this.. un-cool. It was never his strong suit anyway; keeping his cool or coping with shit, he never quite figured out how to do those. Connor just happened to not know that about him. Now, he did.
" Okay, dad, yeah, I'll see you soon. Alright, love you too." Stiles put his phone away, he didn't want to keep waiting for a text or a call or – anything that would make him feel like it wasn't all in his head, like he really was there and he really came to help and – he really left like Stiles wasn't left behind.
" How is he? Your dad, I mean. All good?"
Connor had spent a few holidays back home with Stiles, since his own parents were separated and almost always busy, they rarely even noticed he wasn't spending holidays with them. The sheriff was always a fan of him though, always said he had a good heart. Connor saw things in him he didn't know could exist in a parent. He kind of looked up to him as a police officer too. So, Stiles wasn't surprised by the question despite the tension still being there between them.
" Yeah, he's doing great. He says hi and told me to tell you that you're welcome to come home with me, if you want."
" That's nice of him. So, are you going to apologize to me or what?"
" You have got to be kidding me."
" Relax dude, I actually am. What's wrong, why are you so defensive all the time?" Stiles started to crack a little, mellow under his friend's concern.
" I'm sorry, I don't mean to be. It's just been a really shitty week, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you, I'm sorry, C." And Connor immediately lit up, like he'd been waiting for the slightest signs of openness to barge right in. He pulled Stiles into a hug like he'd missed him. Things started easing inside of Stiles too, finding something in his friend that he didn't know he needed.
" No worries, man. If you're good, we're good."
And Stiles wasn't, not really, but he didn't want Connor not to be, so they spent an hour or two discussing everything that happened, from the intern killing himself to Derek showing up in the middle of a panic attack like he knew, like he could feel Stiles spiraling even when he was miles and miles away. He even told him about the sex and how he told himself he could get used to that, to sleeping in his arms and hearing his voice even through his dreams. But what he couldn't – and wouldn't – get used to was him sneaking out and leaving without a note or a promise of a come back. He couldn't let himself make a habit out of being some dirty secret that Derek never truly wanted to own up and admit to. He was just – so tired of having to hide and act like it didn't break his heart a little more every time. Once he started talking, he couldn't seem to stop, and Connor didn't seem to mind, so he just went on until they ran out of time. They never went back to the subject.
Stiles just had to make it through the two weeks left before his time off. He could do it.
Only, he couldn't. Because his mind was always going, and every time it went, it went to Derek, until one day he had self-defense class and he went overboard, punching through his opponent even after he was bloody and unconscious. Then another time, he had shooting practice and no matter how many times his captain told him to stop, he couldn't quite hear it, past his own ragged breaths that sounded so much like Derek's. The last straw, was when he was drunk before a physical test, and he collapsed into a pool of his own throw up and gave himself a concussion on the fall. That was when he was sent home, suspended until after the holidays.
He felt like he was turning into his father, not what he was now, but what he once had been. It scared him half to death. So, when his father started looking at him like he knew what he was going through, like he was helpless in front of the sickening reflection he saw of himself every time he looked at his son, Stiles started hiding in his room, pretending to sleep until his body succumbed to eventual sleep.
Scott visited a lot, tried to include Stiles as much as he could, but if it wasn't a life or death situation, Stiles wasn't all that interested. He didn't know when he'd become bored by the supernatural. Probably when it became bored of him. Or, he became bored of him. But he wasn't thinking about that. He was not thinking about him.
Lydia invited him to almost every single thing she had to do; parties, nights out, even her weekly night of patrolling. He never failed to make up excuses for anything involving a group, which all of those plans did. He just wanted to make it through these holidays without having to see Derek, or anyone for that matter. He didn't think he could do human interactions, not until Lydia pushed him off his bed one day, forcibly put him in something other than his stinky sweatpants before taking him out for one of the pack meetings. Only, it wasn't a meeting at all, it was a late dinner and a movie, just the two of them with Beacon Hills asleep, safe. He didn't know how she could tell he was desperate for the quiet, how she knew any sound could have brought him apart, stirred the calm and disturbed his façade composure, but he was grateful. They didn't speak much, and it was comfortable, until they started speaking and found true comfort in that. And he was reminded of how great it was to have Lydia in his life, to have grown up alongside her and watch her turn into this magnificent woman that took no one's shit and never stopped giving her all in everything she did. He tried not to feel intimidated, thinking of all the ways in which she grew and he.. didn't.
The next time it was a little easier to get him out of the house, and for a solo night patrol with Lydia. Then spending a shift with his dad. Then helping Scott study for his exams. Then having lunch at the Mccalls. And before he knew it, he found his footing again, and things started becoming.. easier. Until they didn't.
Scott came to get him before some witches' ambush, they made it out okay but Lydia screamed right next to him so his ears wouldn't stop ringing. They all went back to Scott's house to regroup except for Derek who told Malia to give him the updates later. That night, Stiles was helping Scott with his laundry since Melissa was at the hospital, and he found one of Derek's shirts – the one Stiles lent him before Mexico and Derek verbally told him he still had it and didn't plan on giving it back because it smelled and felt just right, just like Stiles – in the pile. He didn't question it, didn't have the words to, he just let it feel like the kick to the gut it was, let it set in that he kept losing pieces of himself that he'd once given to Derek. But Scott didn't know, had no way of knowing why Stiles' heart was sounding like something it wasn't supposed to, because Stiles never told him any of it and Derek never urged him to. Derek always had his way of pushing everything way down, including Stiles. Everyone in the pack had to have noticed at one point that there was something there, but Derek denied it every time, denied Stiles. And it took Stiles all those years to believe him.
" Are you.. okay?" Scott questioned, taking the shirt from Stiles' trembling hands.
" Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Stiles shook his head, willing all things Derek away.
" Stiles, you haven't really been talking to me much since you came back. Did I do something? Is that why you've been acting so weird?"
" No, Scott, you didn't do anything. It's just been a long day, that's all." Stiles sighed, hating himself a little more for worrying Scott.
" But, no offense, man, you've been smelling off too. Especially around Derek. Did something happen between you two?"
" What? Of course not."
" Oh no."
" What oh no? There's no reason for an oh no."
" You're lying, your heart did the thing. What happened?" Scott leaned against the washing machine, eager and open. Stiles felt like he had no way out.
" I mean, we might have slept together a few times, but nothing serious."
" Slept together? Holy shit, you slept with Derek? Why? How?"
" What do you mean how? This isn't going to turn into sex ed."
" Not what I meant. In fact, I don't even want to think about it. But I mean, why did you stop, you know, doing it?"
" Why do you think? Because Derek is emotionally constipated and unable and unwilling to have anything real and I was tired of being his fuck buddy. I mean, he comes all the way to Quantico when he finds out about that intern just to be there, and we have this amazing night and – "
" Woah, woah, woah, what? He went to Quantico? When?"
" Like, a couple of weeks before I was suspended? I don't know."
" That sneaky son of a bitch, it was probably on the night he had patrolling and bailed. He said he overslept, which made no sense because Derek barely even sleeps at all, but we let it go."
" Well, as I was saying, when I woke up he wasn't there, and we haven't talked since. You know this has been going on since the alpha pack? I mean, not the sleeping together part, but the – the sleepovers because we each couldn't sleep without the other, and the talking through the night like we had nothing else to do, and – the looks and the touches and – the feelings, Scott. I thought he felt something, I thought if we took it slow, if we did it his way, he'd want more, he'd want me to be more to him. But he let me down every time, and I – I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to feel like this anymore. So, that's why we stopped I guess." Stiles took a shirt and started folding it although it was dirty and would end up in the washing machine anyway, just to give himself something to do.
" Do you miss him?" And just like that, something so terribly broke inside of Stiles, and he started hiccupping with choked cries.
" Oh shit. Oh fuck, Stiles, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to – I'm sorry, please don't cry. Fuck, please." And his cries swayed somewhere between sobs and laughs, as Scott embraced him so tightly, he felt 9 again, crying over something he would never get back.
After crying for an embarrassing period of time, Scott excused him from doing laundry, telling him to go up to his room and sleep it off. So he did. He woke up to the smell of Melissa's breakfast and the sounds of his dad laughing and it was perfect. Derek almost completely slipped his mind. He washed up and had breakfast with the closest thing he ever had to a family and he felt.. fine. It was the craziest thing, to not need someone you'd grown up learning how to need.
Attending pack meetings became easier, he didn't even have to pause and think about it. He just kept moving. But every time Derek cracked a joke or tried to act all casual and friendly, Stiles immediately shut down, refusing to fall down that rabbit hole again. And things were finally starting to feel better and although he missed him, missing him was no longer the only thing he did. So he pushed past him every time he was near and he pushed on, until he woke up one day and there was no breakfast waiting for him, no water running, no hummings of Queen songs. And when Stiles went looking for his dad, he found him in his bedroom, right in the middle like he'd fallen over, collapsed with nothing to hold onto.
Stiles called 911 and then Melissa. Or the other way around, he couldn't tell. He rode in the ambulance with his dad and couldn't look away, trying to understand how he could have missed it, how he didn't see him stopping in his steps every time he felt a stab in his heart, how he didn't hear him fall, how he didn't go looking for him earlier, never questioned something this bad happening to him. He had to close his eyes around all the ways he could have fallen and all the ways Stiles could have caught him, could have held him, but didn’t. When he opened his eyes again, Melissa was helping the EMTs carry his dad out of the ambulance, and he was running through the hospital like he was trying to outrun something, chase it away from his dad. The sheriff had surgery for hours, during which Scott, Lydia, Cora, and Malia started surrounding Stiles, preparing for the worst. But his dad pulled through, barely so, but still. He stayed in the ICU for two days, took him over 24 hours to even be responsive at all, but he was alive and interactive and Stiles' chest released a breath so relieved, it felt like it would cave onto itself.
It didn't, at least, not until Derek came through the waiting room, three full days after his dad's heart attack, with some roses and a homemade bowl of chicken soup, and Stiles just lost it. All of it.
" Get out! Get the hell out of here! Get out of my life!" He pushed into Derek so hard, he felt like he was pushing through him. He knew he wasn't exactly acting like a sane person – well, not at that specific moment, but he realized it later on, when he was clearer in the head – but he couldn't stop himself, not when the whole world seemed to be crumbling around him – again – and Derek decided to join in, shake what little foundation he had left, stare at his universe from above and poke fun at all the ways it was all wrong.
" Woah, Stiles, calm down, he just wants to check up on your dad." Malia stepped in, a hand on each of their chests.
" Yeah well, he can go to hell. I don't want him here. I don't want him anywhere near me, get him the hell out, Malia." Stiles was still pushing, even when Malia's claws started piercing through him, even when Scott and Cora formed a barrier between the stunned Derek and him. He felt like if he stopped pushing, Derek would barge right in and break his heart again, and he couldn't go through that, not when his dad's heart wasn't working all that well and every fucking thing hurt.
" Okay, okay, I'm leaving. I'm going."
" Of course you are." Stiles scoffed, pushing Scott's hands away, turning back towards his dad's room. He heard Derek asking, if Stiles thought he had something to do with his dad getting hurt, if anyone knew why he was so mad at him, then he closed the door behind him and shook his head when his dad started asking questions with Derek's name somewhere in them.
It took the sheriff three more days before he was getting discharged. Melissa and Scott came in to help him collect the last of his things and change out of the hospital gown and all that. Scott never mentioned Derek to Stiles, never even spoke of what had happened, which was odd, knowing Scott but Stiles wasn't going to stir anything up, not when they were barely maintaining their composure.
Stiles had an arm around his dad, another carrying his bag, while Scott had his dad's other arm, leaving Melissa to finish up all the required paperwork. When Scott opened the door to let them out of the hospital, Derek was standing by Stiles' Jeep, no flowers or soup this time, but a plea in his features that Stiles never really saw before, so he decided not to yell – especially since his dad was recovering from a heart attack and bringing his drama to life in front of him probably would be a bit of a stressor – as he silently helped his dad into the car, moving around Derek like he was invisible. He could tell Derek didn't know what to do with himself, just awkwardly stood there waiting for Stiles to give him some sense of purpose. But Stiles just sat in the driver's seat after everything was settled with his dad and Scott, he started the engine, and drove away, and every time his eyes ached for one more look through the rear view mirror, he willed them to stay on the road, driving further and further away from Derek like he was trying to teach him how it felt to be left behind.
Stiles called in to inform them that his dad was ill and he needed to prolong his time off, so he wouldn't be going back to school when he was supposed to. He spent his time between caring for his dad, helping Scott with his studies, reading books with Lydia and going on occasional patrols when he knew Derek wouldn't be around. Connor came down for a visit to check up on the sheriff and stayed for three days, during which everyone in town swooned over his charm and humor, and Derek was nowhere to be found during that time. But then, Stiles was getting some groceries when he found himself in the same aisle as Derek, searching for what seemed to be the same kind of cereal, which was odd since Derek spent hours upon hours debating all the different reasons why this specific one was the least deserving of even being called cereal and was a complete waste of money, space and taste. When Stiles saw Derek, in this maroon hoodie and those grey sweatpants, looking like he did when they were young and he'd finally let Stiles see past the leather jackets and stubborn frowns, Stiles just really wanted to let himself cave, just this time. He wanted to call his name and leap into his arms like some corny romcom and have it be how their story ended, how their happily ever after began. But he knew he was no longer a damsel in distress, and Derek wasn't quite ready to be anyone's hero, so he turned away, almost left, before Derek called for him, and he heard his rushed footsteps nearing. There was no way out.
" Derek, uh, hey, I didn't see you there."
" I am still a werewolf and I can still tell when you're lying, Stiles." Stiles shrugged, his cheeks heating a little. God, he really wanted an out right about now.
" How is the sheriff doing?" Derek sounded.. cautious, like he'd been saying all the wrong things for so long, he didn't know how to navigate a conversation with Stiles anymore.
" He's good, better. He's been whining about going back to work for like a week now but I'm trying to keep him at home for as long as I possibly can."
" Good. That's good, Stiles."
" Yeah. I think I'm going to go now, see you – "
" Can I come over tonight?"
" Come over? Why?"
" Well, I've been wanting to check up on your dad but I didn't know if I'd be welcomed, and also, I think we need to talk. I can cook dinner for you and – " Stiles felt like he was falling into a whirlpool with Derek's name written all over it.
" Dinner? Wait, hold on, you want to come over for dinner and a chat? What do you think this is, Derek? What are you trying to do?" Stiles shook his head, halting all the thoughts of laughter around a dinner table and cuddles on the couch with full bellies before they ever started forming.
" Nothing, I just – I just want to talk, Stiles. I miss you, and I know you're mad at me but I can't figure out why and – "
" Mad? You think I'm mad at you?" Derek just stood there, feeling like he said the wrong thing again, but he couldn't place it, couldn't stop fucking everything up.
" You left, Derek. Someone killed themselves and it sent me into a panic attack and you just, left. And it wasn't just that time either. All you ever do is leave. And every time I look everywhere for a note that I know I will never find because you don't care enough to leave one, I check my phone obsessively, wanting so bad for you to call and give me some stupid excuse and – I would have believed it anyway, but you don't call. You never call, and I don't know, maybe I'm expecting too much out of this, maybe you'll always be embarrassed by me and just – ashamed of being with someone like me, and I don't want that for you. I don't want it for myself."
" You think I'm ashamed of you? Why would I be?"
" I don't know, maybe because I'm an emotional wreck who has panic attacks over dead people because the mere concept of death terrifies the living hell out of me. Or because I move a lot in my sleep and I can't stop talking when I'm stressed out and I don't think a lot of the times or I think too much of the same thing, over and over. Maybe because I look the way I do and you look like you do and you can have anyone you want and no one would ever see you ending up with someone like me. I don't know just one thing that would embarrass you about me, I know a lot. And I know a lot because I've had all this time on my hands, where you're not there and I'm left wondering why." Stiles could feel his heart speeding like it was trying to outrun all the misery filling up his chest, he knew Derek could probably hear it too, but he couldn't keep it together, could no longer hold it in.
" Stiles, I – I didn't know. I thought you liked having this thing be ours. I thought you enjoyed the back and forth. I – I was never, ever ashamed of you. How could I be? Do you not know how lucky I am to have someone like you? Do you not realize how insane it is that you are interested in me?"
" But, you left me, Derek. You left."
" Because I'm on the FBI's most wanted list, Stiles. I thought you knew why I couldn't stay."
" Yeah, well, it doesn't matter how much sense it makes, it sucked. Every single time you left, I felt abandoned and worthless and I – I felt like I was doing something wrong, being so stupidly in love with someone who couldn't feel the same way about me." Derek staggered then, breathing in so weakly it sounded like someone's dying breath, his expression morphing into pure devastation.
" In love? You – you're in love with me?" Stiles' pride was telling him not to give him that, not to admit to feeling this much for him, but he could see it in Derek's eyes, he needed it. So he gave it to him, like it was the last thing he owed him.
" I've been in love with you since I met you. I've loved you every single day for years now and it counted for nothing. It didn't matter how hard I tried to get you to love me back, it didn't matter how much I gave, that approval never came. And I think I'm finally starting to accept that it never will."
" Fuck, Stiles, why didn't you tell me any of this earlier? I don't – I didn't know. I would have – I would have told the whole fucking world that we're together if you let me. I can only dream of you wanting something serious with me, Stiles. You have to know that."
Stiles nodded, trying to think of how the past few years would have looked, if he'd just said it out loud. But he probably didn't know how to be loved by Derek so he didn't know how to picture it. He only knew what he knew and it was never Derek's love, not the fearless, outspoken, brave, unfiltered kind of love at least. He knew.. something.
" I should, probably get going, I don't want to leave my dad by himself for too long."
" Okay, so, that dinner? Are you up for it?" Derek looked at Stiles with so much open hope in his eyes, it felt like a fresh taste of heartbreak on Stiles' tongue, as he verbalized what felt like the last words they'd ever speak between them.
" I don't think that's a good idea, Derek. I'm sorry." Stiles turned away, but Derek moved around him, blocking his way.
" Some other night then? We don't even have to dinner, we could just go for a ride, or watch a movie, or, I don't know. Anything you want. I don't really know what people normally do on dates." Stiles smiled, all bitter and heavy, it looked wrong across his face.
" Yeah. I don't think we should keep doing this. I think we need to be done."
" Done with what?"
" With this. With trying to make this into something it isn't. With each other."
" No, Stiles, you can't break up with me, you can't just leave."
" To break up, we have to have had started dating, Derek, and we never did. Okay? Please don't start making this a thing now. It's too late, it's not going to work."
" I'm not leaving again, okay? Never again. Please just – give us a chance. Let me fix this." Derek looked like Stiles was setting his world on fire all over again, and for one moment, it made Stiles feel worse about himself because why wasn't it working? Why wasn't it moving everything inside him? Why didn't it feel like it had in his head every time he pictured it? There was so much pain between the two of them. Stiles thought it shouldn't be like that, it shouldn't hurt like this.
" I can't do this anymore, Derek. I can't feel this little, this disposable anymore, not even for you. This isn't good for either of us, and I don't want us to end up hating each other, because I – I came really close sometimes, when what I felt got so intense, it fell right between love and hate. And I don't think that's how it's supposed to be. So, I think, we were never really supposed to be either."
" Stiles – "
" Please. Just – let me have this, let me not feel like we settled for each other, like, we couldn't find anything better so we just – stayed. This time, I think we both just need to leave. This time, I'm the one telling you to let me leave."
Derek inched closer, his chest brushing against Stiles' side, his hands wanting so desperately to pull out, to latch on, but he didn't know how to touch without taking and he didn't think Stiles had anything to give anymore. Stiles tilted his head to the side and Derek was close, so close he could reach out and hold onto everything he'd wanted for so long. He could feel his breath against his skin, could feel his heart beating against his arm. He looked as closely as he could, drinking him up, wanting to take him in, one last time.
" I am so sorry. You know that, right? That I would do anything, to unlearn everything I know about relationships, and start doing this right with you. That I would give anything, to have you back, without having done any of this to you."
" It's not just you. Don't go into whatever comes next thinking that it was all on you, because it wasn't. I was a coward too, I could have fought harder, but I didn't. And I'm sorry too. I'm sorry we never stood a chance." Derek nodded, pulled away, let go.
" Take care, Stiles."
" You too."
Stiles took a step away, then another, his cereal long forgotten, the world turning black around him as the curtains fell on everything he'd wanted for so long.
" Do you think if you'd heard me telling you I love you, every time you fell asleep beside me and I knew you were out, it would have made a difference?" Stiles stopped but didn't turn back. He feared he'd never be able to start walking again.
" It definitely would have been nice to hear, would have made it easier for me to say it back."
Stiles went home that night and cried until he passed out. He went back to Quantico without seeing Derek again. He woke up most nights calling his name, for three whole months. But then he met Connor's new friend; Harry, and before he knew it, he was learning how it felt to be loved, how being in love was supposed to feel like, and wow, he couldn't believe he'd had it all wrong for so long. The next time he went home, he was engaged, and Derek sent him a simple Happy for you, I hope it's everything you thought it would be and more. Congratulations, Stiles and it didn't feel like his heart was breaking all over again. It felt.. kind of nice, nostalgic and familiar.
Derek ended up meeting the love of his life and marrying her around the time Stiles was getting a divorce from his husband. And he was happy for him too, he was, Derek deserved to be happy. It just sucked to be left all over again by a completely different person, and have it hurt all the same.