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It was raining. Not just the usual summer trickle that left everything feeling refreshed and clean. It was the angry kind of rain, like the sky was hailing down in fury, was trying to rid itself of something regardless of who it fell upon, of what it did to the people that would drown under its weight. Derek was laying in the middle of the road, watching the lightening in the sky, counting the seconds that separated the thunderstrikes. The rain was beating down against his body, hurting a little every time a drop fell into his eyes. He didn’t know if he was crying, if his own tears were submerging him before the rain ever could. He couldn’t remember how he’d ended up there. Was this a working road? Did he drive there? Was the Camaro parked somewhere close? Did anyone notice his disappearance yet? He didn’t know. He was just.. tired. So tired, he didn’t think he could move, even if he wanted to. Did he want to?
There was a sound of something echoing far away from him, but it was closing in. His senses weren’t nearly as focused as they normally would be. He blamed that cocktail laced with a type of wolfsbane in specific dosages that wouldn’t be murderous for werewolves, but would certainly get them drunk, stripping away most of their powers if they drank enough. And Derek drank more than just enough.
“ Holy shit, are you okay? Did I hit you? Somebody call 911, is he – Derek?” Derek heard Stiles before he could see him. Then, there were hands tugging at his shirt as if to make sure he was breathing, and there was a head right over his, keeping the rain from stripping any more away from him, and there were eyes – God, those eyes – filled with concern and fear and helplessness. Derek wasn’t coherent enough to offer a response, but he let Stiles check him over, until he was satisfied that there was nothing physically wrong with him. Stiles then turned away from him, seemingly talking to someone else that Derek didn’t have the mind to try to identify, before a car sped past them, splashing some more water onto Derek. Stiles cursed, wiped water away from Derek’s face, as if the rain wasn’t still coming down and it wasn’t storming like it was the end of the world.
“ What the hell are you doing here? You’re going to get yourself killed.” Derek didn’t know how to tell him that it was kind of the whole point. That Stiles was talking about it like it would be so bad. Stiles put his arms under Derek’s armpits, started trying to sit him up, but Derek was too heavy and the weight of the water wasn’t helping and Stiles was struggling.
“ Derek, come on, man, you might be a werewolf, but I can still get pneumonia and I really don’t want to, okay? So, just help me out here.” Derek pulled his arms away from Stiles, let them fall back by his side. He figured, the best way he could help Stiles was if he pushed him as far away from all of this as possible. It had always been like that. All he could ever do for Stiles, was shut him out.
“ Okay, fine, you want to tell me what’s on your mind? What’s going on here?” Stiles sat down, cross-legged, his hand on Derek’s shoulder, as if reminding him that he was still there.
“ Go home, Stiles.” It was the first actual sentence that Derek had been able to verbalize all night.
“ Trust me, I would love to. But I’m not just going to leave you here, by yourself.”
“ I am drunk.” Derek tilted his head to the side, wondering what he’d have to say for Stiles to give up on him again.
“ I can see that. How much did you have to drink?”
“ All of it. I drank everything.”
“ Why, Derek?” Stiles sounded hurt, disappointed. Derek wished the ground would crack open and swallow him whole.
“ I don’t know what else to do.”
“ About what?”
“ Everything. Everything is so fucked up and I – I am so tired of not being able to keep up.”
“ Derek,” Stiles sighed his name out like he was just as tired. Derek hated it. Hated everything about this moment.
“ Why didn’t you call me when things started getting bad again?”
“ Call you?” Derek snorted. Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed, as if offended, but also, confused.
“ Yes, me. Why wouldn’t you call me?”
“ Because you’re busy, Stiles. You’re always busy with someone else. You have a new boyfriend, your new college friends, you don’t – I don’t fit in your life anymore. I haven’t in a longass time, and I don’t know if you’re completely unaware, or if you’re just – choosing to ignore it. Ignore me.”
“ Why would I do that? How do you – is this about the breakup? Because we said we’d be friends, Derek. I thought we were.” And they had. After all the yelling had died down and the energy had run out, Stiles had whispered it right before walking away. Maybe we’re better off as friends. Derek hadn’t agreed but he hadn’t argued against it either. He’d stopped saying what he wanted to say long before that. He’d stopped saying pretty much anything after.
“ Who are you trying to bullshit here, Stiles? We’re not friends. We’ve never been friends. Even before we started dating, we weren’t friends. There was always something more there. Something that I have never had with anyone but you. And – you promised. You said you’d never leave. You said you felt the same and then you just – stopped. You lied to me. And now, you’re trying to do it again but – I can’t do this with you anymore. And I can’t even do it without you. How fucking pathetic is that?” Derek went to laugh, but something much more broken apart fell past his lips. He felt like he was being left again, like his house was burning up and his family was dying, one by one, and then Laura was being ripped to pieces and Cora was driving away because she couldn’t bare to stay with him any longer, and Stiles was – he was putting his goodbye into the distance forced between them, into the emptiness that had made a home out of their relationship, into the coldness of his look. Everyone was leaving, all at the same time. So, Derek thought, if he just stayed there, in the middle of the road, maybe he’d never have to lose again. Maybe he’d never have to watch someone else walk away from him.
“ Fuck, Derek, you know I – you were my first love. And that never goes away. There are, so many nights, that I get to thinking of you and what you would do in a certain situation and how much I would have loved for you to be there for something and – the thinking leads to the missing and I don’t know what to do with it, because we’ve had this.. wall between us, for a long time now, that I am not even sure you’d want to break through it. So, I stopped pushing. And I let you pull away, and – I’m sorry. Okay? I am really sorry for the shitty way I’ve handled things, Derek. But I’ll do better. I promise.” Derek didn’t know if the cocktail was making everything seem attainable and simple, but he was desperate to believe Stiles’ promises, so he did.
“ Now, can we please get you home? How long have you even been out here for?” This time, when Stiles started pulling Derek up, Derek dug his feet into the ground, tried to carry as much of his weight as he could, until he was standing, mostly leaning against Stiles.
“ Sorry I am not of much help here.”
“ No worries, dude. Nothing I can’t handle.” Stiles looked around for the Camaro but was grateful when he didn’t find it, because that meant that as drunk as Derek was, he was still smart enough not to drive, especially in that weather. So, they started walking towards Derek’s loft, rain making the roads extra slippery and almost impossible to safely walk through, but at least Derek wasn’t laying there waiting for something to take him away anymore.
“ What were you doing out in this storm?” Derek questioned, tripping on his own feet, but Stiles tightened his grasp around his weight, held him up.
“ I – uh, I was out with Connor. We didn’t know it would get this bad, this fast though.”
“ You left your date for me?” Derek sounded somewhere between astonished and hopeful. Stiles slowed, looked at Derek until their eyes met.
“ Of course I did, Derek. That is – I would drop everything if you need me to.” Derek sluggishly blinked, his mind taking too long to absorb Stiles’ words. But then, he tilted forward, forcing Stiles to take a step to keep him from falling, and then they were walking again.
“ You used to be the one who needed me.”
“ What?”
“ I – I would always be there, to help you, to – keep you safe and – you were always capable of taking care of yourself but I – I had a role, and I did it for so long that I – it broke my heart when you stopped needing me. When I – it felt like I lost my purpose when I lost you. And now, I don’t even know why I’m here.”
“ Derek,” Stiles sounded like he was agonizing over Derek, “ This is why we had to break up, remember? Because this is – it’s not healthy, to be so dependent on each other, and we were. Everything in our lives started and ended with this thing between us and – we stopped living for our own selves and started living just for one another and that’s – it wasn’t good for either of us. So, we had to stop. We had to call it quits, and figure out who we are, as individuals, as people. Find what we want to do and – “
“ I don’t want to do anything. I don’t – I don’t know who I am without you. Why – why the fuck did you get me out of there? Why couldn’t you just leave me? Like you did before.” Derek was suddenly enraged, as he pushed against Stiles so hard, he slid, falling off the road with the sound of Derek’s name screamed out, echoing like it was calling Derek in, willing him to follow, to cave.
“ Oh fuck. Oh shit, Stiles. Are you – Oh my God, Stiles.” Derek ran down the muddy trails of bushes and trees, until he saw Stiles’ figure, covered under so many layers of shit, it looked like he was buried. For a second, Stiles’ face morphed into Laura’s, and Derek leaned against a tree and threw up most of what he’d drank earlier.
“ I’m sorry. Stiles, I’m so sorry. Please, I – “ Derek fell to his knees, crawled until he had Stiles’ head in his lap, his dirty fingers moving leaves and mud away from his face, but only making things worse. Piling more layers of filth on. There was a motion like blinking around Stiles’ eyes, his chest moving with a few rough coughs, before he was staring up at Derek. Derek, who was immediately coming so far apart, he didn’t feel like a person anymore, as he cried and cried. Stiles took his face into his hands, pulled him down and leaned up until they were wrapped up in each other’s arms, holding and being held at the same time.
“ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – I’m so sorry.”
“ I know. It’s okay. We’re okay, Derek.” Derek knew that they weren’t. They were the furthest they had ever been from okay. He still let Stiles hold him like he meant it, because he was a selfish, needy, asshole who couldn’t deny Stiles’ touch.
“ Are you bleeding? Do we need to go to the hospital?” Derek asked, pulling away to assess Stiles properly. Stiles looked down on the rest of his body, moved his neck around, before shaking his head.
“ Maybe you should call someone to pick you up. You shouldn’t – I can get myself home.”
“ No way. I’m not leaving you. Let’s go, we’re almost at the loft anyway.” Stiles wobblily stood to his feet, helped Derek up too, before they climbed back up to the main road. It was quiet, each of them haunted by something they didn’t want to put a voice to, the sounds of the storm keeping their company, grounding them to the shitty reality they had to live through. Almost 15 minutes later, Stiles was pushing Derek’s door open with his feet, carrying most of Derek’s weight, until he got him to his bed, where he dropped like his cords had been cut off, like he would never rise again.
“ You have to get out of your drenched clothes, Derek.” Stiles took off Derek’s muddy shoes and socks for him, receiving a muffled groan in response. He tugged at Derek’s pants until they slid down his legs, then he had to shuffle Derek around, to get his shirt off, but Derek was uncooperative and Stiles was sore all over, so he just grabbed some scissors and cut the shirt right off. Once he was relatively assured that Derek wouldn’t freeze to death, he covered Derek’s passed out figure in a couple of blankets, turning on the heater, before he turned to leave the room.
When Stiles went to grab the door to close it behind him, his eyes fell on a box with his name on it. Stiles was a lot of things, and curious topped that list, so he took off his own clothes, decided that he’d find something else to wear later, before he opened that box. It was filled with everything that Stiles forgot to take with him, after the breakup. Little things, like the book he had by the nightstand in case of a sleepless night, one of his many stress-balls, pages of unfinished cross-words, a pen that he borrowed from Lydia for a Chemistry exam once. Then, there were things that Stiles intentionally left behind, didn’t feel entitled to, didn’t think he could bare the reminder of. Like the card that Cora got him for their first anniversary, Derek’s shirt that he slept in every night until Derek asked him to move in, the letter that Stiles wrote for Derek when everyone started forgetting him and he thought Derek would too – he didn’t. It was what brought Derek back to Beacon Hills, and he was the one that reminded the sheriff of him, started pulling at all the pieces of him he remembered, until he came back.
Stiles felt like he was stepping into a space that wasn’t his anymore, like he was betraying Derek’s trust, so he closed the box again, put it back where it was, before looking through Derek’s cupboard for something to wear. He grabbed a tank top and some shorts, heading towards the bathroom for a shower. He took his time under the hot water, putting on the clothes, but he was still shaky and loose, so he grabbed a sweater too, before laying down on the couch in the living room. He knew that he should leave before Derek could wake up and watch him do it. He knew that he didn’t have a place in this loft anymore, that there was no reasonable explanation as to why he stayed, but it felt wrong to leave Derek with so much hanging between them. And it’d been a brutally long night and he’d almost lost Derek and he hadn’t had any time to process any of it.
So, he tried not to think of the last time he’d slept at the loft; how he’d waken up and everything had gone to shit, because Scott called for help with some wendigos, and Derek didn’t talk to him through the whole drive, still fuming from the fight the night before. But one of the wendigos had Stiles by the throat, actually managed to bite down on his shoulder and eat a chunk of it off, before Derek roared, put his claws right into the wendigo’s neck, until it separated from the rest of its body. Stiles collapsed, and when he came to, Deaton was extracting one of the wendigo’s teeth from Stiles’ infected shoulder and Derek was yelling at him and at Deaton and at Scott and – Stiles just had enough. So, when Derek continued to yell all through their drive back to the loft, Stiles told him to drive him to his dad’s house, that he needed some time, some space, because Derek was suffocating as all hell. Naturally, Derek pulled at his nonchalant front, detaching himself from the situation, and then, when Stiles opened the door to leave the car, Derek told him that he would pack all his stuff up and he could pick it up whenever. See if I care, he’d said, right as Stiles shut the front door behind him. Derek didn’t pack Stiles’ stuff, but he texted him to do it himself. Any other time, Stiles probably would have realized that Derek was taunting him because he wanted him to take it all back, to say that he never meant any of it, but Stiles was overwhelmed and exhausted and couldn’t deal with this shit much longer. So, once his shoulder was somewhat mobile, he grabbed Scott and went to the loft to collect what he could, and leave his key. Derek didn’t react to him at all, didn’t even say goodbye. They didn’t talk for 6 months after. Then, Stiles started dating and Derek started drinking, even when he had patrolling or pack meetings or even fights. He didn’t seem to give a damn anymore.
Stiles must have drifted to sleep, because he started waking up to his ringtone. His bones were aching even more than the night before, bruises formed all over. Stiles had always bruised like a peach. But at least he wasn't concussed this time. He blindly picked up because he didn’t want to alert Derek if he wasn’t ready to wake up himself.
“ Hello?”
“ Stiles, did you make it home okay last night?”
“ Not exactly. I mean, I’m okay, but I’m not at home.”
“ Then, where are you?”
“ At Derek’s.”
“ What? Why are you at his house?” Connor questioned, accusation and frustration in his tone.
“ It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it later.”
“ Stiles, you know I don’t like you spending that much time with him.” Connor never got the full-story of what had happened. Stiles felt like most of it was just for him and Derek, no one else. But also, how could he have fit years upon years of love and heartache into a few sentences?
“ He’s my friend. And he’s pack. He needed my help last night, so I wasn’t just going to leave him like that.” There was an edge to Stiles’ voice, a warning in his tone.
“ He is also your ex.”
“ Among other things, yeah. Listen, I don’t have it in me to fight with you right now, and if you’re going to be this possessive, controlling, boyfriend then maybe – “
“ That’s not what I’m doing. You know that’s not who I am, Stiles. I am just worried about you. And maybe a little jealous. Is that so wrong?” The accusation morphed into hurt, and Stiles sighed, deflating.
“ No, it’s not. I’m sorry. It’s just been… a lot. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’ll call you when I leave here to pick me up and then we can spend the night together, okay?”
“ Sure, Stiles. Call me whenever.” Stiles smiled, put his phone away, turned to go into the kitchen and make some coffee, but Derek was standing by his bedroom door, leaned against the frame as if he still needed something to share the weight with.
“ Morning. How are you feeling?” Stiles walked past Derek, into the kitchen, trying to busy himself.
“ Like shit. I didn’t think you would still be here.” Derek dropped onto the couch, rested his head back with his eyes closed.
“ I wanted to check up on you first. I knew you would have one hell of a hangover and you’re not exactly experienced in that, so.”
“ You’d be surprised how many hangovers I’ve had to work through by myself.” Derek groaned, putting an arm across his face, because even feeling the sunlight was giving him a nauseating headache.
“ Probably not as many as I’ve had to work through with my dad.” And then it hit Derek all at once, how traumatizing and scary that had been for Stiles. He sat up so fast, he felt like he was about to throw whatever was left in his stomach, up. Stiles silently laid an empty bowl in front of Derek, went to walk back to the kitchen, but Derek’s fingers gripped his wrist, forcing him to stay.
“ I didn’t realize – fuck, I’m so stupid. I don’t – I am fucking everything up. I’m sorry you had to see me like that, Stiles.”
“ But you’re not sorry you did it?” The silence that followed was enough of an answer for Stiles. He would do it again.
“ Dammit, Derek,” Stiles leaned in, rested his forehead against Derek’s and just – breathed him in. All alcohol and sweat and a musty smell from the rain water that had dried. “ I still need you.”
“ What?”
“ Last night, you said – you think I stopped needing you but I didn’t. I still need you. I need you to be okay and well. I need you to be there for the good things and for the bad. I need you, I just – it’s not like it used to be. I don’t need you in the ways that I did before. But – fuck, Derek, I cannot bear the thought of losing you. I can’t live my life, knowing that you don’t care for yours. We don’t have to be dating for me to love you, and I do. That will never change. I just.. can’t be what you need for me to be. I can’t be at the core of everything you do and everything you are. There is so much more to you, Derek, that even you don’t know about. You can find that now, you can love it, because you deserve to be loved.”
“ What if I can’t?”
“ Can’t what? Love? Derek, you have loved in ways I have never seen anyone else love. You love hard and deep and it’s the best fucking thing in the world, to be loved by you. You’re capable of so much love, I can’t even tell you.” Derek whimpered, tears silently sliding against his cheeks.
“ I miss you. I miss who I was with you.” Derek whispered, like he was telling a secret.
“ You don’t have to. I am right here. I am always going to be there for you, Derek. Now, you gotta be there for your own self too.” Derek nodded. Stiles’ lips fell onto Derek’s forehead, left a longing, loving kiss, before they moved to his cheek, and then, he was pulling away.
“ Coffee is made. There is some toast too, don’t eat anything too heavy, and don’t drink anything all at once. I’m going to get going now, but – you have my number, don’t let things get this bad again, please. I’ll talk to you later, Derek.” Derek fought his instinct to hold on, to attach, as he let Stiles go, watched him leave, one more time.
Stiles didn’t call Connor until he was already home. He just needed a damn minute to himself.
The next day, Derek called Scott, told him to come over with tons of plastic bags. He threw all his laced alcohol in there. Then, he gave that box with Stiles’ name to Scott, told him to keep it until he asked for it back. Scott didn’t ask any questions, didn’t even mention Stiles’ fading smell in the loft. He took Derek back to the McCall’s and they had dinner together with Melissa. It was the first human interaction he’d initiated in such a long time, Melissa almost didn’t want him to go home that night.
Derek and Stiles met two weeks later, for a vampire nest. They didn’t really talk, but Stiles had that look to him, like he was asking Derek if he was okay, without actually asking. Derek nodded anyway, forced something like a smile, and that was just that.
From that point on, there were texts sent back and forth between Derek and Stiles. After a bad fight. If they didn’t hear from the other for more than a week. On the anniversary of the fire. Just random check-ins, that they both needed just as much. Until one night, Stiles was having a panic attack after breaking up with Connor, and Derek’s text came in right as it started. So, with trembling fingers, Stiles texted him that he needed him, along with the location of the street he was on. Derek showed up less than 10 minutes later, breathed with Stiles until he melted into him, allowed him to hold and to comfort and to fix, again. Derek walked Stiles home, waved goodbye, and went back to the loft. He fell asleep after reading the last text from Stiles. I told you I would always need you.
They didn’t get back together. The texts and the check-ins didn’t hold any extravagant meaning, they didn’t give it any over-the-top weight. Any time one of them helped the other out, it didn’t mean that they were co-dependent again, or that they couldn’t possibly survive without the other. It meant that they were there, a reassuring presence, something to hold the other up when needed, a support system. But on the night of what should have been their fourth anniversary, Stiles didn’t text Derek at all, although he thought about him. He just didn’t want to do anything that would translate into something else. Derek didn’t text him either. They each just suffered by themselves.
A week later, Stiles got a call from Derek, telling him that he kind of wanted to die again. That things were rapidly falling apart and he was suffocating – going under. Stiles grabbed a shitload of comfort food, drove to the loft, and spent the night talking Derek’s ear off about the newest Marvel movie. When Derek woke up, Stiles was asleep on his couch again, with a notebook in front of him. On one of the pages, there was a vertical line drawn to split it in half, one part titled things I can and the other titled things I can’t. Derek made them breakfast before waking Stiles up. He asked him about the notebook, and Stiles swallowed before responding.
“ It’s for you. We’re going to sit down together, think through everything that’s weighing on you, see what you can change, and what you can’t do anything about. That will give you a sense of control over things, make it all seem a little less.. chaotic and overwhelming.”
“ What if there’s something that I don’t know how to categorize?”
“ Like what?”
“ Like you.” Stiles choked on his food, drank some water, than choked on that too. Derek just watched on, waited.
“ I am one of the things making you feel out of control?”
“ Yes. And I understand that it is unhealthy and that we weren’t good for each other, but – it’s been a year and a half since we broke up, and I still love you just the same.”
“ We can’t go back down that hole, Derek. We barely made it through the first time and – “
“ I know. You’re right. I just hate that you’re right.” Derek nodded, solemn and defeated. Stiles stood, took that notebook and wrote something down, before putting it in front of Derek. Stiles’ name was scribbled under the things I can category, and Derek looked up so fast, he could have pulled a muscle.
“ Now, that doesn’t mean we’re back together. But – it means there’s a chance. You’ve already come a long way, since that night of the storm. You’ve communicated better, you’ve let me back into your life, we can actually call each other friends now and that’s – huge, Derek. But we’re not all the way there yet. We still need to learn to be. By ourselves. We need to learn how to balance our need for each other out with all our other needs. We need to learn when to let go and when to cling on. We have to – if we end up doing this, Derek, we can’t mess it up again. If we choose to do this, then this is it. You and me. Forever. There are no chances after this one.”
“ Yes. Okay. Yes, I am 100% in.” Derek stood, folded around Stiles and hugged him like he was finally allowed to. Stiles huffed out a laugh in disbelief, because as terrified as he was, he knew it was the right thing to do. He knew that he and Derek deserved to be with each other. Derek pulled away, stole a quick kiss, before wrapping around Stiles again.
“ Okay, okay, so how about a date?” Stiles suggested into Derek’s chest.
“ A date?” Derek raised his eyebrows, amusement dancing around his features.
“ Yes. A date. Somewhere fancy too.”
“ You got it.” Derek nodded, releasing Stiles, as they each went back to their breakfast. Stiles went home to get dressed and wait for Derek to pick him up. They went on that date and it was everything a date should be. They ate good food and they had good company and they laughed so much, their tummies hurt a little. Then, Derek drove Stiles home, told him that he’d text him when he got to the loft safely, and he did.
It was a lot easier the second time around. They had grown through their time apart, each of them becoming their own person, before falling into their relationship. They learned when to push and when to pull and when to just let the other be. They had lives outside of one another, and space wasn’t something they would have to fight over. It was just given when needed, knowing that they would always come back to each other. And they did. Sure, there were still bad nights, that Derek would spend fighting off something heavy and dark, and Stiles would try to be there, as much as he could, as much as he was allowed to. And if it didn’t help, then it didn’t help, and Derek would just go through it, come out on the other side, and then seek Stiles out, for comfort and reassurance. And they never stopped needing and loving and learning, ever again.