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The world around him is far too loud. His breath rushes in and out of his lungs too hard and too fast. Pain prickles under his skin, it burns like a million hot pins pressing up out of his muscles and through the delicate layer of his skin. The rush of pin like sensation is the only thing keeping him warm, he is so cold, and it hurts all the more because his limbs are slowly going numb.
Stiles has his eyes closed but he can't sleep. He lies on the couch, he's freezing but he doesn't dare put on his coat. It hurts too much; the pressure of the fabric against his skin only makes it worse. It’s all he can do to lie still on the couch; the fabric feels rougher than sandpaper against his skin. And he hates it.
He knows he’s dying, but he can’t tell anyone that. Not when they already have so much else to deal with. They need to catch the Nogitsune, they need to be focusing on finding Lydia, not worrying about Stiles.
But it hurts so much, and Stiles is scared, fucking terrified, actually. It doesn’t matter though, because Stiles is ready to die if it also means getting rid of the Nogitsune and stopping anyone else from getting hurt.
Stiles is ready to die, and there is only one thing he wants to have before he dies.
He wants Derek to hold him.
It’s a horrible dream really, because it will never happen. Stiles and Scott have hurt Derek so many times, accused him of murder, gotten him arrested multiple times, yelled at him when Stiles had known Derek was being stupid. But they’d also saved each other, Derek had protected Stiles from the Kanima, Stiles had saved Derek from drowning. Derek had listen to Stiles’s plans and gone along with them, and Stiles had listened when Derek truly needed him to. They’ve come so far, as friends and maybe even as pack.
Stiles wants to be pack, wants to be Derek’s pack, wants Derek to have nice things. Stiles wants Derek to have the life Stiles knows he deserves; with a pack, and family and someone to love him and children. Lots of children, Derek is so good with children, he plays with them, makes them laugh, Derek deserves to be a father.
And if Stiles isn’t going to be around to see it, he at least wants to tell Derek.
Scott’s phone is right there on the coffee table and Stiles grits his teeth and reaches for it. He doesn’t know where Derek is, but he wants to talk to him. Stiles needs to talk to him, right now. He can feel how close the end is, not just his end, but the end of this situation. Everything is either going to go to hell or it will work out. Stiles is pretty sure that either way he won’t get to see it, he needs to say good-bye.
The phone rings three times, then someone picks up.
“Scott, what’s wrong?” Derek’s voice is rough and he sounds harried. “Scott?” And then he sounds worried.
“No, it’s me.” Stiles feels himself start to shake, the pin like sensations gets worse as he forces himself upright. “I mean,” And he shakes his head, immediately regretting it when the room spins and Stiles has to force his eyes closed. “It’s Stiles.”
“Oh…” Derek is quiet, like he’s hesitating. “How are you?” And god, Derek sounds awkward. Stiles can’t help the small laugh that escapes him, it shakes his whole body and the pins change to knives. He closes his eyes, feels a few tears trickle out, cold and burning across his cheeks.
“Stiles?” Derek sounds suddenly panicked and Stiles gasps when he hears it, pulls himself back from the edge so he can speak.
“I’m ok,” He doesn’t sound it, he sounds breathless and strangled. “I’m ok, I’ll be fine. I just wanted to call you. Just wanted to hear you…” Stiles world tilts and he has to lie down, close his eyes and lay down against the rough material of the couch.
“Stiles,” And Derek’s tone conveys so much. ‘Stiles, you aren’t fine’, ‘Stiles, you’re an idiot’, and most of all ‘I don’t want you to get hurt’. It sounds slightly panicked and desperate.
“I’m fine, I promise.” Stiles speaks slowly, softly, barely a whisper, but knowing Derek will hear him. “Just listen please.” There is so much Stiles needs to say and he needs to get it out before the next dramatic twist of their lives arrives. “I’m so sorry Derek…”
“Stiles…” Derek sounds strangled, but then he can probably hear the tears that are burning their way down Stiles’s cheeks. He can probably hear the pain in Stiles voice, Derek is nothing if not protective.
“No, please listen. I’m sorry for all the shit Scott and I dragged you through. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you as much as I should have. You deserve so many things Derek, so many good thing… I’m sorry I won’t be there to see it.” Stiles gasps, breathing fast and hard, he squeezes his eyes shut harder. He almost wants to die just so that he won’t have to feel like this anymore, like he’s being shredded and burnt alive all at once.
“Why?” Derek’s voice is so quiet that Stiles barely even hears it, Derek can say so much with just one word. ‘Why are you telling me this?’ ‘Why now?’
“I’m dying, Derek. I’m lying on Scott’s couch, talking to you because I’m going to d-d-d…” Stiles breathe stutters away as he heart squeezes. It’s like he’s being strangled, like there’s a band around his chest. He can’t get any air in, he can’t let any air out. His body is alight, inflamed, and Scott is going to come back and find Stiles dead on his couch.
“Stiles! Stiles! What’s going on? Talk to me?” Derek sounds frantic, it’s not often that Derek loses his cool. Not when Derek has already lost so much, Stiles is going to be another thing. But it’s not the same, Stiles isn’t Derek’s family, not his sister, or his pack. Stiles is just Stiles.
“I love you…” Stiles isn’t sure if he actually gets the words out or if he just thinks them really hard. It doesn’t matter because he’s in agony. His body shakes, everything burns. The sound of screaming grates at his ears and Stiles knows that it’s him. Knows that this is the last sound he’ll ever make. All that’s going to be left of him is ash. He loses conscious then and the last thing he thinks about is ash blowing away on the wind.
***
He regains conscious slowly and at first he doesn’t think that he’s conscious at all, because he’s to light. There is no ache in his limps, he’s not burning up, and there’s no fog crowding his brain.
“Stiles?” There is a light pressure around his hand and Stiles carefully opens his eyes. This ceiling is white and further away than his own bedroom ceiling. Slowly he turns his head, and there’s Derek, standing in the dark hospital, leaning over Stiles bed eyes wide and fingers carefully gripping Stiles’s hand. Stiles’s Dad is asleep in the hospital recliner against the wall, a blanket tossed over him.
“Stiles?” Stiles looks back up and Derek is smiling, it lights up his whole face and Stiles can’t help smiling back. “I love you too.” Derek leans down and brushes a kiss across Stiles’s forehead, “Please don’t even do that again.”
“Ok,” Stiles throat is dry, he swallows a few times and lets his eyes slide closed. “Love you.” When Stiles loses consciousness again he isn’t afraid of the darkness he falls into, not with Derek holding his hand and secure in the knowledge that Derek loves him too.