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He’s sitting by the cliff, legs dangling over the edge. The air is calm. Up here you can see all the stars How easy would it be to let yourself fall. He could lean forward, let gravity take effect, and fly through the air like a superhero. In the last moments before he hits the ground, he wonders what his last thoughts would be.
He hears movement, and without even turning he knows who it is. He doesn’t bother, because Stiles will come and sit down next to him. Close enough that if he moved just a little closer, they’d be flush against each other, but far enough that Derek can kid himself.
They don’t talk, not when they’re up here. It’s an unspoken agreement that they have. The only noises are the sounds of their inhales and exhales, the wind singing, and the sounds of the creatures running through the woods.
Stiles is staring at him, brown eyes intent on his profile. When Derek turns to face him, he’s already looking out into the sky. Derek stares at him for a moment, stares at the moles on his face, at the pale column of his neck, and at his pink mouth.
He often wonders what would happen if he just leaned over and kissed him. Stiles wouldn’t push him away. He would probably sigh into his mouth, wrap his arms around his neck, tangle his fingers into his hair, and kiss him back with all he had. Then he’d pull away and smile into his face.
He thinks that would be nice.
He doesn’t deserve somebody as beautiful as Stiles.
But he wants. He wants so bad it scares him. It’s like a fire that runs through his body, courses through his blood, makes him dizzy and stupid. It makes him ache, with how much he wants to lean over, press their lips together, and roll over so Stiles is above him, pressing in close, boxing him in. Have Stiles looking down at him, a lazy smile on his lips, his long fingers tracing his jaw.
It terrifies him.
He isn’t sure he knows what love is anymore. Love was like the smell of homemade cookies baking, like kisses being pressed to your forehead after a scary dream, and like playing with your cousins on warm sunny afternoons in the big backyard.
He also thought it was like clumsily thrusting into tightwarmslick heat, having long hair tickle your cheek, sweet breath puffing into your ear.
It wasn’t.
He thinks it could be like kissing a sinful mouth over and over again, like eating curly fries at 3 in the morning, and like arguing over what movies to watch, and Derek, no we’re not watching your boring documentaries about animals again, god, do you want me to fall asleep.
He wants to find out. He thinks maybe one day, he will. Stiles doesn’t have to wait for him, he doesn’t want that. He’s messed up, and he’s not what Stiles deserves. But in the way Stiles looks at him from across the room, with a soft smile, he thinks that Stiles will.