Chapter Text
Stiles aimlessly walks down the narrow, tiled hallway. He kicks at a wadded up paper towel on the floor, but misses. Sighing, he heads further away from the bathrooms and toward the front entrance. To his right, a bay of clear glass tiles replaces the solid cream tiles part of the way up the wall. He leans against the lip of the makeshift windows and peers through the slightly blurred glass.
“Grand Opening” is what the sign says. A lot of construction has taken place on the building. Stiles had been wondering what it was going to be. He remembers when the store used to be a Hollister. Then, it changed to an Anime shop for a while. Seems like nothing ever stays the same for very long.
Recently, most of the buildings on this side of the Beacon Hills Mall have been changing over to food establishments. The mall authority has decided that this location would be better for the food court than where it was previously situated. Stiles presses closer to the glass and tries to make out more of what the new store looks like. He thinks it says “biscuits”. It looks homey but fancy at the same time. Lots of white. Shiplap. He’s heard people talking about the “Fixer Upper” style, but he’s never actually seen the show.
He can almost feel his stomach growl. “Man, I’d love to go in there.”
“It opens soon.”
Stiles doesn’t say anything. He smiles, knowing someone else will appreciate the new restaurant too. When no one answers the person who spoke, he turns to the side. He sees the owner of the voice. Tall. Dark hair. Gorgeous eyes. Gorgeous everything, really. Very fine specimen of the male form. Stiles smiles in appreciation. He turns his head to look around. No one else is there.
“I hate people who talk to themselves,” Stiles mumbles.
“Me too.”
Stiles looks at the man. He takes a step back and spins around in a full circle. Then, he steps forward again, crosses his eyes, and sticks his tongue out.
The man laughs. “My mother always warned me not to talk to strangers. Now, I think I know why.”
Stiles smiles brightly. “You were talking to me?”
The man nods. “I thought that was a bit self explanatory, but yes. I was talking to you.”
Stiles jitters with excitement. “Oh man. This is… This never happens!”
“After the greeting you gave me, I can see why.” He scrunches up his face and sticks his tongue out, mimicking Stiles.
Stiles throws back his head in laughter. “Sorry,” he says when he recovers. “I don’t have many friends.”
“Again, I can see why.”
Stiles smiles goofily. “I wouldn’t suppose you had many friends either. What with the manners you’ve exhibited so far.” The man chuckles. It’s such a lovely sound, Stiles would love to listen to it forever. Maybe it’s his imagination, but it feels like they’re having a moment. The moment is soon interrupted by a phone ringing.
The man takes his phone from his pocket, looks at the screen, and nods to himself. “I need to be heading out. See ya around.”
“Yeah, see ya,” Stiles responds.
The man turns around and heads back toward the entrance. He passes by a woman soon after he turns, and she gives him an odd look. He sighs to himself. This whole town must be crazy.
-
- - -
About a week later, The Biscuit Company has its grand opening. Stiles stares at the crowd standing in line to enter the shop. It looks so good! The people who exit the shop look happy. It must be delicious.
“Have you had a chance to go there yet?”
Stiles startles when he feels the man nudge his arm. His whole body feels like it’s tingling. He regains his composure and smiles at the gorgeous man. “No. Not yet.” He isn’t really sure of what to say.
The man holds out his hand. “Name’s Derek by the way.”
Stiles gulps. He is hesitant, but he holds out his hand, too. When the man grasps it and shakes, Stiles knows in his heart that his face must be blushing full on pomegranate. “Stiles,” he barely manages to whisper.
“Stiles,” Derek repeats. “I can finally stop calling you the ‘Hallway Weirdo’.”
Stiles giggles. “I can finally stop calling you ‘Sexy Hot Dude’, but I don’t know if I will.”
Derek smiles. It almost looks like he is blushing, too. “Stiles, do you want to come eat with me?”
The boy’s smile is blinding. “Yes. Yes, so much, but I…” he sighs and bites his lip. “I can’t.”
Derek’s face falls. “Oh.”
“It’s…” Stiles tries to explain, but he doesn’t have the words. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Derek is brief. “I thought… Nevermind.” He suddenly doesn’t know what to do with himself. He turns and starts walking.
“Derek.” Stiles follows after him. “Derek, please wait.”
The man pays no attention and keeps walking. He feels Stiles touch his shoulder, but it feels cold and meaningless. He’s so stupid. He lets himself get his hopes up, finally puts himself out there, and for what? He knows it’s odd to make friends with the weird hallway guy at the mall, but Derek was intrigued. He thought Stiles might feel the same way.
“Derek,” Stiles tries. “Please don’t go. I’m sorry!”
He opens the door, and it closes in Stiles’ face.
-
- - -
Derek doesn’t go back to the mall for another week, but he’s free on Saturday and can’t bring himself to stay away any longer. He can’t help but hope that Stiles is there. He has been for the past two weekends, so Derek assumes he must hang out there quite often. He’s not really sure how old Stiles is, definitely out of high school (good grief, he hopes that’s true so he’s not some accidental perv), but he still seems young enough that the mall would be his hangout spot.
Derek wanders around for a bit before he finds himself heading toward the back of the building. He has to wonder why Stiles always spends his time by the bathrooms. It’s not like there’s anything interesting happening in the hallway. He seems like a person who would have some social anxiety. Maybe he just goes there to get away from people. The mall can be quite overwhelming. But, still, the bathrooms? It’s pretty gross back there. And, try as the mall might to bring new life to that section of the mall, it still just seems… dead.
He opens the doors that lead to the now familiar bathroom hallway. There’s Stiles. He’s standing at the glass bricks again. He just seems so sad. This is ridiculous. If he wants to go to The Biscuit Company so badly, he needs to go already. Derek marches up to him.
“Enough of this. You’re going.” Derek grabs Stiles by the arm.
Stiles gasps at the suddenness and the feeling of Derek’s hand around his arm. “No, Derek. I really can’t.”
“You can’t stay back here your whole life either,” Derek huffs as he pulls Stiles along.
“Yes, I can. I’m actually pretty good at it!”
Stiles tries to dig his heels in and hold himself back, but Derek is really strong. He’s pulling him along like he doesn’t weigh a thing. So unfair. “Derek!”
“You’re coming with me.” Derek pushes the door open and steps through into the brighter lights of the mall.
Stiles gasps. He looks around him. There are so many people. So many lights. So many things. Things he can see clearly instead of through blurry glass. He grabs onto Derek for support. “Der… Der…”
“Stiles, you’re okay. You’re with me. You want to do this, right?” Derek ignores the people staring at them. People can be so rude. It’s just a guy with some anxiety, leave him be.
The boy looks everywhere and nowhere all at once. It’s a case of serious sensory overload. “I really can’t go. Derek…” Stiles says in a panicky voice. He walks along behind Derek. They’re almost to the restaurant. “I… I used to get panic attacks. This… I… I feel like…”
They reach the door. Derek releases Stiles’ arm so he can open it. He steps through into the shop saying “table for two.”
“Yes, sir,” the receptionist beams. “You can follow me, or would you prefer to wait for your second person?”
Derek looks around. “Stiles?” He’s not there. “Did you see where he went?” he asks.
“You came in alone, sir.”
Derek shakes his head and goes back out into the mall. He looks around but doesn’t see Stiles anywhere. He retraces his path and goes back to the bathroom hallway. “Stiles!”
He thinks he can hear a soft crying coming from inside the bathrooms. He passes by the wall of glass and hurries into the men’s restroom. “Stiles, I’m sorry. If I knew you had that much anxiety about it… I should have respected your feelings more.”
He doesn’t get a response, so he listens closely. He doesn’t hear the crying anymore. “Stiles?” Gently pressing on all of the stall doors, they all swing open. Empty.