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Derek is a twisted thing. He is an abomination, undeserving of lion hearts.
He knows. He knows that if he were to give in, loving Stiles would mean breaking him because everything he loves inevitably dies.
The childish light in his eyes may have been taken from him and replaced by a dirty red, but Stiles still has that light, that potential, that Spark. He can't take that away from him, can't hurt him—he can't.
He knows this.
It's taken everything in him to ignore Stiles for this long. Pack meetings are the hardest. There, his composure threatens to break. There, he feels raw and exposed under Stiles' studying gaze, like a brandished weapon digging into meat.
Lie. Push him away. It's for his own good. Control yourself.
He's quite certain that if he repeats this enough times in his head, it will start to sound convincing.
ღ
They are alone and night has fallen upon them. It is almost as cold outside as the chilling unease in Derek's bones.
He doesn't know how he ended up here, but it wasn't willingly.
Derek pointedly ignores Stiles' gaze, and when he finally drops him off at the doorstep of his father's house, he turns around, hoping for an easy escape. Stiles is much too quick however, and Derek's defenses against him are steadily crumbling—have never really been any match for him since the beginning.
He grabs his wrist, and when Derek turns to meet his eyes, he sees unadulterated hurt reflected in them. Derek can feel the tremble in his hands, hear the echo of his pulse fluttering like a distressed birds wing.
Oh, or is it his? Is he the one shaking?
Stiles swallows. After a long pause, he finally opens his mouth.
"This." His voice cracks. "Why are you so afraid of this?"
Before anything more can be said, Stiles' father opens the front door with a quiet, "Son?"
And just like that, Derek pulls away from his hold and disappears into the night.
If only he knew. There's too much to be afraid of.
ღ
[From: Stiles, January 5th at 7:06 PM]
Can we just talk about what happened
I don't get why you're acting like this
ღ
Derek isn't aware of what Stiles dreams of at night. He doesn't know of the monsters not under his bed but outside his window, lurking in the shadows or inside his pale, fragile-boned body.
Stiles is just searching for a fairy tale, he tells himself. Things that can only be felt in children’s storybooks.
He must have forgotten that this is Beacon Hills. Reality is too heavy a weight here, and there are no happy endings in an endless black hole for the supernatural. Derek should know, because even abominations like him had needed hope to hold onto in the dark.
Too bad Laura's gone now.
ღ
He hears Stiles' jeep drive in before he sees him, followed by angry footsteps going around in circles. The door to his loft slams open after ten whole minutes.
Not that he was counting or anything.
"Derek."
"Stiles." Derek is quick to respond. He places his reading glasses on the coffee table next to him calmly.
"Listen, you were-asshole," Stiles huffs in frustration. "I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong. Okay? I'm not just—I'm not just gonna move on because you want me to, because you think I deserve someone better. It doesn't work like that."
"And how does it work?" Derek asks, arching his eyebrow innocently.
"You tell me, Derek. You're the one running away from your problems. I'm sure you've got some great ideas up your sleeve!" Stiles bites back.
He grimaces, focusing his gaze on the wall. "...I'm protecting you—"
"Oh my god, shut up! I can protect myself!"
"Why are you here, Stiles?"
"Because I love you!"
Derek looks back at him. He knows his eyes are wide.
The silence rings in his ears like after the firing of a gun, and he can feel his heart pounding rapidly against his rib cage. Despite his desire to spill the universe out of his mouth for Stiles, he says nothing in return. He probably looks like an idiot right now.
Stiles presses on.
"I love you, and I'll wait. But I'm not giving up on you. And—And maybe you don't wanna move on, but you have to. You'll have to face it one day, Derek."
"Go home." Derek manages to spit out. His voice wavers, but there's nothing he can do to help it. It's getting hard to breathe.
If Stiles notices, it doesn't deter him.
"The thing is, you have this crazy idea that you're alone in the world. Which you're not, you know. Alone, I mean. Hello? Annoying human here." He looks down, fidgeting with his nails anxiously. "I'm right here with you. So just... remember that."
"..."
Stiles' jaw clenches, and the scent of heartache wafts across the room.
What a surprise. Seems like Derek's only purpose in life is to disappoint the people he loves.
"Okay. Okay, I'm—I'm going now."
Stiles leaves, and Derek's world falls apart all over again.
ღ
It's been two months. Two months since he took Stiles' virginity on the hood of his Jeep in the heat of an argument, going on three since he ran away like the coward he is because of it. He can't stop thinking about Stiles' words.
"What are you waiting for, Derek? Another tragedy?" Peter asks one day, his arms crossed. "It's hard to find a kid like him, you know. If I were you, I'd stop resisting the current. Everyone gets tired and drowns eventually."
Derek ignores him. He doesn't pause in his pull ups.
Peter shrugs. "All I'm saying is if you're smart enough, maybe you won't drown alone."
He stops. He can feel his wolf crawling just above the surface, furious.
Like it was that easy. Like Peter understood even half of what he was feeling right now.
"Do you really have nothing better to do than compare my life to a stupid current analogy? Get out."
"And leave you to your miserable pining? Gladly."
ღ
The next pack meeting is short and to the point. He makes sure of it.
Erica, Scott, and Isaac look particularly tense and uncomfortable. Lydia is just glaring at him.
None of it matters.
Stiles looks at him like he wouldn't mind being broken, and that's what terrifies him the most.
ღ
There was an accident.
Scott sent him a text to meet up at Deaton's. Derek doesn't know the details, or if Scott even sent him any. He doesn't have time to think about it clearly, because all he could bring himself to read is that it involved Stiles getting injured before he started running. He might as well have died, because that's about the amount of panic coursing through Derek's body. As if Stiles had died.
Because what if he had died? What if he had died, and Derek's last words to him were a rejection?
What if the reason he got injured in the first place was because he wasn't there to protect him?
He slams the doors to the animal clinic open, striding right past Deaton. If he said anything at all, it's lost to his ears. He can't remember how his feet brought him here. He's in ugly sweatpants, he's sweaty and breathing hard through his nose, and he probably looks borderline homicidal, but it's fine because Stiles is there.
Stiles is there. Stiles is alive. Stiles has a cast on his arm. Stiles is sitting on a stainless steel examination table, and he's staring at Derek like he's just grown three heads.
"Derek?" He says in disbelief, and then turns to look back at Scott. "Dude, did you call him here!?"
"What happened?" Derek asks, voice clipped and angry. He's about three seconds away from losing it.
Scott responds to Stiles, choosing to ignore Derek's question. "Look, we're all tired of you guys looking like kicked puppies. It's putting the whole pack on edge, alright? So just sit down and figure this out, because I can't do this anymore."
"Ohhh my god, you fucking traitor!"
"Scott, what happened? " Derek asks again, this time louder. His alpha voice accidentally slips out, and Scott takes a step back and whines.
Stiles interrupts before things can get any worse.
"Uh, Derek, listen..." He looks back at Scott briefly, glaring at him, before returning his soft eyes to Derek. "Scott is—I mean, I just wiped out on... a skateboard." He finishes lamely.
Derek's stomach drops down to his feet.
"That's all, okay? I came to Deaton because I didn't want to bother my dad with it. So nothing's wrong, alright? And—" He cuts himself off. Stiles must see something in his face, because he pales and starts to stand up.
"Derek—"
Here he was, thinking Scott and Stiles got into some form of supernatural trouble again, did something stupid without letting him know because Derek wasn't in touch. Because it was all Derek's fault.
And Stiles just broke his arm skateboarding.
"Hale?" Deaton calls.
He wonders, for a moment, if Stiles sees the irony in it. How even if Derek wasn't a part of his life anymore, he'll still always be in danger of getting hurt.
How Derek can't protect him even if he wants to. If it's not Creature of The Month, it's a fucking skateboard.
What was the point of all this, then? He doesn't know anymore. He doesn't know anything.
He's never felt so stupid in his life.
"Derek, wait—!"
He leaves just as he came, slamming the doors behind him closed and exiting the clinic.
ღ
Stiles hasn't stopped texting and calling him since then. Derek was surprised to see even a few notifications from Scott and Erica. Scott messaged him, apologizing and pleading with him to visit Stiles. Erica left a voice mail asking where the stash of potato chips were.
Lydia sent a text too, bluntly telling him to get his head out of his ass and make out with Stiles already so things can finally get back to normal. He specifically left her on read.
[From: Stiles, March 26th at 7:02 AM]
Derek I'm sorry. I had no idea Scott was gonna do that.
[From: Stiles, March 26th at 5:11 PM]
Derek we need to talk
Please
[From: Stiles, March 27th at 7:25 AM]
God you are so dramatic I just broke my arm dude
[4 missed call(s) from: Stiles]
[From: Stiles, March 29th at 4:01 PM]
Just answer me at least? Are u okay??
[From: Stiles, March 29th at 7:28 PM]
You haven't shown up to any of the pack meetings where the fuck are you
[From: Stiles, March 30th at 6:23 PM]
You're not at the house?
Where are u?
[From: Stiles, March 31st at 3:00 AM]
Derek I'm worried
You better not be in trouble
[From: Stiles, April 1st at 1:56 PM]
Well congrats
This is just about the worst April Fools joke ever
You get a trophy!!!
[From: Stiles, April 1st at 1:58 PM]
[From: Stiles, April 2nd at 8:30 PM]
Look I get it. You want nothing to do with me? Great. But at least check in with your fucking pack. They're losing their shit. I'm losing my shit.
This is soap opera levels of ridiculous
[1 missed call(s) from: Stiles]
[From: Stiles, April 3rd at 5:51 PM]
Peter said you swing by the loft sometimes. Niyhce
*Nioce
*Nice
Fuck
[From: Stiles, April 3rd at 6:10 PM]
Are you for real?? You're really just gonna ignore me like this? That's it?
That's all I meant to you?
[From: Stiles, April 3rd at 6:30 PM]
That night. That's all it was?
[From: Stiles, April 5th at 1:56 PM]
It's been more than a week dude
And if you really wanna get into it it's technically been more than a month
[3 missed calls from: Stiles]
[From: Stiles, April 5th at 8:59 PM]
DEREK ANSWER UR PHONE. WE NEED TO TALK.
[2 missed calls from: XXX-XXX-XXXX]
[From: Stiles, April 6th at 12:40 AM]
Not even an unknown number huh
[From: Stiles, April 6th at 1:05 AM]
You can't ignore me forever
[From: Stiles, April 6th at 1:22 AM]
I miss you.
[From: Stiles, April 6th at 1:45 AM]
Nvm
Don't know why I thought you'd respond to that
Ofc you wouldn't
[From: Stiles, April 6th at 2:13 AM]
I don't miss you at all
[From: Stiles, April 8th at 8:09 PM]
So someone broke the TV. No one's saying anything but I bet it was Jackson.
Have fun with that when you get back I guess
If you ever do
[From: Stiles, April 8th at 10:35 PM]
If you want me to back off then I will
If you don't want to speak to me again then I won't
But you can't keep hiding yourself away like this man
[7 missed call(s) from: Stiles]
[From: Stiles, April 10th at 6:24 AM]
Answer
Your
Phone
I
Swear
To
God
[From: Stiles, April 11th at 4:04 PM]
If you ever gave a shit about me, even just a little, your stupid werewolf ass would show up and you'd come talk to me.
I don't know what the hell you think you're doing but if you don't come back by tomorrow I'm going to find you no matter what, and it won't be pretty.
I'm serious Derek. I'm sick of this.
He decides to turn off his phone after the fortieth message. The thoughts that crossed his mind when he learned of Stiles' injury continue to replay in his head with no end in sight.
ღ
He can't sleep. He can't focus. Hell, he can't eat.
All it takes is one more maddening comment from Peter as he makes his way out for Derek to snap. Everything on his desk is thrown off in one rapid and violent motion. Paper flies. Pens and books, among other objects scatter across the floor and break. He hears glass.
He can't control it. He can't control anything anymore.
He's so angry. He's angry at himself. He's angry at Stiles for making him feel this way. He's angry at how terrible his life has been up until now.
He can't even love properly.
Derek throws his lamp next, and it smashes against the wall, too loud and overbearing in the silence.
His lamp.
He freezes.
The lamp that Stiles bought him out of nowhere, just because it reminded him of Derek.
"It's Batman. He's grumpy and difficult to work with, just like you!" He'd said sweetly, sarcasm practically dripping from his tongue. Derek remembers holding back a smile.
He stumbles as he backs away, moving to sit down on the sofa with his head in his hands.
He's tired.
He's tired of the nightmares that plague him. He's tired of the never-ending fear lodged in his throat. He's tired of hearing Kate's voice in the back of his head. Most of all, tired of seeing that sad look in Stiles' eyes.
In fact, he's fucking exhausted.
What is Stiles tired of? He wants to know. He wants to know everything about him.
He's done with being haunted by the past.
He wants to move on. God, how he wants it.
Stiles was right. He's always right, as infuriating as it is.
And even if it ends terribly, even if he's a selfish monster for ignoring the consequences of his actions, for the first time in a long time, he wants to try. He wants to try for Stiles, and for himself.
Whatever horrors the future holds for them...
His limit has been reached.
He wants to move forward.
He doesn't want to drown alone anymore.
ღ
[From: Sourwolf, April 12th at 4:07 PM]
I'm sorry.
Does it still hurt?
Stiles almost drops his energy drink in his haste to respond.
[From: Stiles, April 12th at 4:08 PM]
It doesn't matter
Just come back Derek
ღ
Derek enters the room through his unlocked window. Stiles is sitting on the edge of his bed, seemingly deep in thought. He startles immediately, turning to look at Derek with big eyes.
He's still wearing a cast on his arm.
He had this all planned out, what he was going to say. As soon as his eyes landed on Stiles' face, his tongue went lax and his mind went blank and he, he can't do this, what if this is another mistake, what if he hurts Stiles—
"I—" Derek attempts to speak, to share all his consuming emotions, but his words are stuck burning in his throat, choking him like the smoke among his family.
"Derek..." Stiles sighs, frustrated, running his free hand through his own hair.
No. He wants this. He needs this. And maybe he doesn't deserve it, but—
His hand catches his midway, and as he shifts closer to Stiles he can smell the surprise and resurgence of hope.
If he really is so selfish, then he wants to do one final selfish thing.
In the small space between them, he breathes out what he hopes Stiles will understand without fail. What he hopes Stiles will read through, like he always does. Because these words, as heartfelt as they are, are all he can manage right now. He's fighting a self he doesn't know if he can win against, but he has to try.
"I missed you too."
Stiles blinks. His breath hitches.
A crashing relief courses through Derek's veins at the happiness that shines through. It smells like rain dew.
Stiles gives him a fond, shy smile and tightens his grip on their hands, interlacing them. He accepts it, and the act leaves Derek feeling weightless and free. Tender and sore.
Stiles looks at Derek.
Derek stares back at him.
They say nothing, but their eyes say everything.
I know.
Stiles pulls him into a soft kiss, and time slows.
Just like that, the bloody red lipstick rotting his heart is washed away, and he begins anew.
ღ
"By the way, if you ever disappear off the face of the earth like that again I will punch you in the dick without mercy. You don't know how annoying it was to handle Jackson without an alpha. We seriously need to work on your self-esteem issues."
"You say that like you don't have any yourself."
"Okaaay true, but mine don't have Peter crawling around playing matchmaker. It's like, really disturbing."
"Crawling?"
Stiles raises an eyebrow.
"Alright, you might have a point there."
ღ
Derek buys Stiles a kids lamp with Robin on it three days later.
Stiles takes offense to the implication that he's the sidekick, flirts, and then proceeds to tease him endlessly about the gift. Which might just be additional flirting.
Derek wouldn't have it any other way.