Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He couldn't move. Well, he probably could move but something wouldn't let him. He didn't know if it was his mind, his body or something else entirely. Maybe the crushing guilt of cheating on his boyfriend? Maybe the thought that there was no point in moving because life lost all meaning when Stiles broke up with him?

It didn't really matter. Nothing did. He couldn't even cry anymore, too lost in a canoe of numbness drifting in an ocean of sadness, waves of anger and self-loathing coming along to turn him elsewhere every once in a while.

So Derek just laid there on the cold wooden floor of the house he'd had rebuilt, the one Stiles never got to see finished. It had been warm yesterday so he'd taken a little sunbath and fell asleep as the light died out. Now it was dark outside, but it wasn't night. Storm clouds drowned out the sun and lightning danced through the skies. He felt so empty. He hadn't realised how much Stiles filled that void until now. It had felt all consuming and he'd tried to fill himself with others, people in dark alleys and clubs and reststops. In the apartment he'd rented with Stiles.

He could still remember the look Stiles had when he he'd opened the door to let his latest fuck out, a pretty girl with dark hair and bright eyes. Could still see the clench of Stiles's jaw as the girl kissed Derek goodbye and greeted Stiles cheerfully as she left, unaware of her part in the destruction of Derek's relationship.

He'd shouted, at first. And cried. He'd begged Derek to talk to him, to make him understand. But Derek had just asked him to leave. Said he couldn't handle being tied down to one person that didn't even have time to fuck. Stiles had flinched but that had been all. Stiles had just packed his things and left. And then nothing.

Derek had left the apartment as soon as the house was done, bought a new bed and new furniture and he'd ran. He couldn't stand to look at all the things he and Stiles had built and owned together, the lives they couldn't have with one another anymore.

(There were a few things Stiles had left behind in his hurry to get as far from Derek as possible, a hoody and flannel shirt, some trinkets like his Boba Fett bobblehead. Those Derek kept at the bottom of his closet.)

He couldn't really remember how it started, the infidelity. He'd been having strange moodswings for a while before it happened, getting irritated with Stiles one second to being completely in awe at having him around.

It was Stiles studying alone in the living room and Derek at the gym or reading alone I'm their bedroom when he'd usually be sitting next to Stiles and listening to him mutter to himself.

Then the next week it was both of them running along the beach in the dying sunlight, jumping around and kissing each other in elation.

And funny enough, it was during one of those happy moments that he found himself on his knees in the dark parking lot of a fucking supermarket, so happy that he had an awesome boyfriend that he was sucking off a stranger in public for anyone to see.

That thought was what tipped Derek put of his numb-canoe. Tears and snot was messing into his unkempt beard, sobs wracking him until he found himself screaming as he curled up into himself on the floor.

He choked on his tears and then on his sobs and then on his breath before he realised the reason. He couldn't breathe. Derek's face was red as he pounded his chest, trying to force himself to just*-*

"Inhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... exhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5..."

He tried to follow the half remembered instructions he'd heard the Sheriff give Stiles when he'd had a panic attack while they'd moved his stuff to Derek's apartment. Derek had never bothered to learn how to deal with them because Stiles was the only person he knew who got panic attacks and all Derek had to do was kiss him or hold his hand and he would come down. He was severely regretting that as he felt himself start to fade.

Chapter Text

Derek woke up with a pain in his chest, but not the usual kind. It hurt like hell and he could barely move without winching. He slowly made his way to the bathroom, ignoring his sudden hunger. He couldn't remember the last time he ate. How much time had he lost anyway? It didn't matter, he could eat the packet of Reeses cups he'd automatically grabbed the last time he'd been out shopping. When he'd gotten home he had stared at the candy like it had stabbed him in the neck, but hadn't had the guts to throw it away. He had just left it in the drawer of the dresser on the side of the room he didn't use (Stiles's side).

He grunted as he moved to the toilet to pee, he just wanted to relieve himself so he could sleep for a few more hours. He'd eat and clean up later.

(He hadn't showered in a few days.)

He almost didn't wash his hands because it's not like he fucking pissed on them but he'd always been that guy that washes his hands after he pees. Unless he was camping or hiking or something.

He glanced up in the mirror by chance and looked away but looked back when he noticed how terrible he looked. His beard was bushy and uneven looking. His eyes and face was red and dried tears and what looked like snot was flaking his beard and oily skin. His hair was disheveled and he couldn't remember the last time he has cut his hair. Or even washed it. He was surprise to see that he didn't look like he'd lost weight, instead he just looked like he'd... softened, maybe. He poked his belly and was half surprised at the give there and lifting his shirt revealed that his abs had disappeared. Huh.

He couldn't help the little giggle as he saw how much of a mess he was. He squeezed his chest to feel if his pecs had gone soft as well and they had. They still hardened when he flexed and they weren't squishy or even that fatty yet, just kind of... soft. He took his shirt of and marveled at how filled out he looked. His arms were still huge but they didn't feel like boulders under his touch. The previously solid muscles did a little dance when he wiggled his arms.

He grinned to himself in the mirror. He was in dire need of a shower, but he kind of liked this look on himself, he knew Stiles would-

Derek laughed as tears came to his eyes. The mere thought of his ex changed the good mood he'd found himself in.

He was so fucking pathetic.

No. Fuck that shit.

Derek took a deep breath and wiped the tears from his eyes, still laughing for no reason.

Okay yeah, maybe he was pathetic. Didn't mean he had to look like shit.

He took the rest of his clothes off and started up the shower.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and decided to brush them while he waited for the water to heat up.

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After his shower he realised he didn't have any clean clothes or underwear. He'd just been wearing pajamas for a while anyway. His sheets were a biohazard. So he did the laundry. He grabbed Stiles's shorts and red hoody from his closet and put those on for the time being. He cleaned up as he went, old take out and pizza boxes, dirty dishes he hadn't even realised he was leaving all over the place.

Then he got to work opening the windows and scrubbing everything clean. The rain was still pattering outside and he could hear thunder rumbling in the distance. He didn't know why he'd been so freaked out by the rain yesterday, he'd always loved the rain, loved the feel of it and running in it when he was younger. He smiled bittersweetly as he remember nights coming home sopping wet to Stiles having drawn him a bath and making hot cocoa.

He should probably get a job, something to fill the time. But he really didn't want to work for anyone of or for a set number of hours and-

No. No, he had to get a job. Was a Literature degree enough to get him a job at the library? He could spend all day reading. He loved reading. He Stiles used to read together in silence all the time.

Huh. That didn't hurt as badly as it had earlier. Still, he needed to stop thinking of Stiles so much. They were done.

He had to stop waiting for him to come back.

He looked around his clean house with a small smile. His big, empty house. His lonely mansions out in the creepy woods where he lived alone.

Derek looked somberly around the house he'd rebuilt. He hadn't wanted to initially, had been fine with it being rubble and ash. But then he met Stiles and he'd had all these thoughts and feelings about growing a big family together. But that wasn't gonna happen. Even if Stiles had been here, it was kind of impractical living in the woods. Sure, his family had been living here together for generations but now there was no one left but him. (Barring an uncle who might or might not have run off to marry the brother of the woman who ruined their lives and a sister who was finding herself out in the world. Maybe Derek should do something like that. Well, he had that a couple of times but he'd ways come back because nothing out there mattered. Nothing in here mattered. Nothing mattered.)

Maybe he should get a house out in the suburbs. Try to integrate himself into the life he was looking for. He wouldn't sell this place, but maybe he could just keep it for getaways or something. A really fucking close getaway but that didn't really matter. (Because; say it with me now: Nothing matters!)

But of he moved back that meant dealing with the sheriff's deputies patrolling every few hours. Dereks breath caught slightly. They'd drive by and notice him and tell the Sheriff and-

And nothing would come of it. Derek took a small breath and held it for a few seconds before exhaling.

John hadn't been by since the breakup, not even to threaten Derek or anything. He wondered if Stiles had even told his father why they'd broken up. Derek didn't know how to feel about that. Either Stiles told his dad that Derek was a cheating asshole and then kept the Sheriff from shooting Derek in the nuts or he'd lied to his dad about why they broke up and once again saved Derek from being shot in the nuts. (Derek's nuts thank you, Stiles (for multiple reasons).)

The laundry and sheets needed to be put in the dryer.

Derek searched his fridge and cupboards, cleaning out rotting food and moldy bread. He didn't even know when he'd bought the bread. He cleaned out the stains and dirt left behind from the cupboards and fridge and toasted the last of some pop tarts he knew had been waiting at least two months in the freezer.

He ate silently for a while wondering what the point was. Why did he shower? Why did he clean the house? Who did he have to impress? He didn't really have an answer. He checked the time but when he found his phone on his dresser it was dead. Well fine, that's what clock's were for. Had he bought any clocks? No, but he'd brought Stiles's Garfield one with him.

He checked his closet and tooked the orange monstrosity out to check the time. Garfields beady eys judged him. For losing Stiles? For not returning him to Stiles? For keeping him locked in a closet for months on end?

It as was four in the afternoon. He plugged his phone in to charge before he went to deal with the laundry.

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An hour later his real-estate agent had given him a few locations he could check out. He'd already crossed out options that were too close to where Stiles hung out, his dad and friends places, the grocery store they'd both preferred, anywhere that potentially sold curly fries...

He had limited options, obviously. Derek hummed to himself and scratched his cheek, fingers getting tangled in his beard. He stared thoughtfully as a spot on the floor as he considered shaving it or just grooming it. (Stiles hadn't cared much, said he loved Derek's baby face when it was shaved smooth, loved the bristles of his stubble, loved his fluffy beard when Derek forgot to shave for too long.)

He went back to the bathroom cautiously, the last time he'd come in here his mood had done a complete 180 and he hoped it wouldn't happen again. He still looked the same as earlier, sans snot and tears that is.

His chest felt better, it didn't hurt as badly as it had before. His face was a bit rounder, and his hair was neater. He could get a beard brush?

Wait.

What was he doing?

Who gave a damn about a fucking beard brush?

Had he even put the fucking laundry in the dryer yet?!

Derek closed his eyes and banged his head into the mirror, blood and glass falling to the sink. He kept his eyes closed. He hiccuped as he felt tears and blood ran down his face. He was ruining Stiles's favorite hoody! Fuck Stiles! Who gave a shit about him! A weak excuse about them not having time for intimacy was all it took for him to give up on Derek! He didn't care that Derek hadn't been acting like himself! He didn't care that Derek was losing his mind! Hedidntcarehedidntcarehedidntcare- He- he didn't know. He hadn't known. How could he know? How could he possibly know how insecure Derek had felt while he was studying to get a good job. How could he know that Derek felt lonely when Stiles went to study groups or hung out with his school friends. That when some random guy on the street had given him a once over and made Derek feel like his body was on fire with need.

Derek opened his eyes. The mirror was cracked and some shards had fallen away. It showed him that there wasn't much blood and just one wound on his eyebrow and the bridge of his nose looked slightly bruised.

He needed to go grocery shopping. The place he and Stiles used to go to was open 24/7. People would see it and think he had gotten into a scuffle but it wasn't that bad. He bent down to grab the first aid kit.

Chapter Text

Derek checked his work in the broken remains of the mirror above his sink. The cut on his eyebrow had been wide, but not too long so he'd just dabbed some alcohol on hit and bandaged it up. He had also cleaned up his face but the bruise didn't look too bad. There were a few drops of blood on the hoody Stiles had left behind.

(That had to be intentional. Stiles loved that hoody, there was no way he would just forget it. Even at his angriest, Stiles still left a piece of himself for Derek to take comfort in.)

It was- fine. He looked fine. He looked down at his shorts (Stiles's shorts, but these probably were forgotten). It was storming outside. It was fine. He was just going to the grocery store anyway. Just had to get some food. Just a few days worth though, because he was moving in a few days. Why was he moving again? Leaving his family home to live in someone else's? Forgetting the place he grew up in to play pretend in someone else's home.

Because it would be easier to get laid, a voice in his mind decided. Except he hadn't really had sex in a while. After Stiles left, Derek had a few hook ups but he just wasn't feeling it anymore. Maybe he only wanted sex when Stiles was around. That's what happened, isn't it? He'd wanted sex with Stiles but Stiles never wanted to have sex so Derek got his needs filled elsewhere.

No.

They'd had sex.

But then why-

Because Derek was already sated, happybto share his body with random people he met, a pretty girl at a coffee store, one of the mechanics at the garage Stiles frequented.

He felt sick as he remembered Stiles kissing his neck from behind, hand sneaking down to group Derek's bulge but Derek had pushed him away. He'd already fucked some guy earlier on in the back of Stiles's Jeep.

Derek moved to the toilet as memory surfaced, acidic vomit making him choke as he heaved into the bowl.

Right. The Camaro had been in the shop and Stiles had been wrapped up in some online meetings. But they needed to do the groceries and usually they did it togther but Stiles was busy so Derek had gone alone. He'd felt hurt and dejected as he loaded the groceries into the back, anger shimmering under his skin.

Some twink had walked up to him, shy and sweet and Derek hadn't even been interested this time, just wanted to hurt Stiles. So he drove them somewhere he knew no cars would be coming and grabbed the boy and pushed him into the back. The twink had grinned up at him breathless from the manhadling and obviously turned on and Derek had fucked him until the icecream melted beside them.

Derek flushed the toilet and went to brush his teeth, shaking the toothbrush in case any smaller glass had fallen into it. Seemed fine so he got that done, but his eyes were on the broken pieces he still hadn't cleaned up from earlier.

He didn't really feel like going to buy anything anymore.

He put the laundry in the dryer.

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By the time he'd cleaned up the broken glass and the bit of blood he'd decided that he couldn't starve himself on top of everything else.

He bad taken deep breaths all the way to the store and gotten a few supplies, was busy paying when he turned and there he was.

Stiles. He looked good. His hair had grown out and he had a little beard that he'd always insisted on shaving clean. ("Only one of us needs to look like a mountain man, babe.")

Stiles's eyes widened when he noticed Derek, a basket of groceries in one hand-

And a pretty girl in the other. She was texting on her phone but pressing up against Stiles with cute fucking giggles as she showed him her phone. She looked up when she noticed she'd lost his attention and realised that he and Stiles were just staring at each other.

The cashier was saying something but Derek couldn't hear. He turned to leave but remembered to grab his bags, not wanting to deal with the mortification of Stiles run after him to return them. Derek knew he would, the big softie.

But maybe he wouldn't? He was busy with his new girlfriend, he didn't have time to chase after his ex just to give him some groceries, he'd never had time for Derek- how long had they been dating, Stiles had left so early, so eagerly, maybe he'd already been dating this girl and was just looking for an excuse to leave- Stiles had cheated on him! He'd known it, in the back of his mind, he knew, he knew, he knew and that's why he'd cheated on Stiles! It was revenge! And it had felt good and now everything was shit and Derek couldn't breathe.

How had he gotten to his car? It didn't matter. (Nothing matters.) Derek shoved his bags into the passenger seat of his car and went to the driver's side even as he felt his knees weaken.

No. No, No, nononono, he couldn't do this, he couldn't do this he couldn't, he couldn't breath he- fuck!

Derek went down as he felt that pain in his chest intensify, bare knees scraping against the wet floor below.

"Derek! Hey, hey it's okay. Here."

Derek pounded at Stiles's thighs as the younger pulled Derek's head to his chest.

"It's okay. Listen to my heartbeat. It's okay. You're gonna be fine."

He didn't know if it was the thumpthumpthump of Stiles's heartbeat or his words but either way it worked. Derek gasped out a sob and let his arms fall around Stiles, tears streaming down his face and mixing with the rain. They stay like that for a while, holding each other in the rain.

"I'm sorry."

Stiles stiffened.

"Derek. I'm not sure I'm not sure we should talk about that right now."

"I know. I just wanted you to know I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said, before you left."

"Before I left? I think you mean when you pushed me out of your life and went off the grid?"

Derek peeked up at Stiles through his eyelashes.

"I'm- the house is done. I live there now. But not for long, I'm moving into the suburbs. I'm scared and lonely all by myself."

Stiles swallowed, not knowing what to do with this unchacteristic, emotional side of Derek.

"Okay, okay that's good- that you're moving to be around people. Erica says you don't reply to any of their calls and they tried the house but it was locked and they could see your car or any signs of life."

Derek had probably been in his room or out on a run then. Sometimes he lost himself his thoughts and he wasn't really aware of the world around him.

Derek didn't say any of that. He stood up and pushed Stiles away from him. Stiles stood with a frown. Derek could hear the familiar clunking of Stiles's Jeep drive up to them. So she was driving Stiles's Roscoe around now? His baby? They really were serious.

Derek's nostrils flared as he smiled, small and dark.

"You know, I fucked a guy in your car once." He got into the Camaro and drove away, firmly not looking at the way Stiles jaw tensed into the rear view mirror. Thunder boomed in the skies.

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Derek didn't drive home. He was too busy racing through the streets. He felt numb again, but the undercurrent of undercurrent of his earlier turmoil was still their. Like an anesthetic. He couldn't feel the pain as badly but he could still feel the wound. He was still crying, but they were silent tears, or maybe it was rain water dripping from his hair down into the corners of his eyes and flowing down into his wet beard. He'd forgotten to buy a beard brush.

He was going fast, had been for a while. Maybe that's what all the flashing lights and sirens were about. He didn't really care. (Nothing mattered.) He just wanted to go to sleep. Maybe he could make himself some soup, he'd bought the ingredients for it.

Or maybe he could just kill himself. End it all now.

Derek snorted.

It's not like he had anything to live for. And if there was nothing in life that he enjoyed, what was the point.

He remembered feeling so happy, earlier on. Just looking at the way his body had changed had him giggling and laughing to himself. Why had that made him so happy? Bodies change, it's what their supposed to do. It didn't matter. (Nothing mattered.)

Now there was emptiness. Numbness. And that sadness and rage and hatred he'd been feeling for months. He didn't want to feel this way. He wanted to feel normal again. Had he ever felt normal? It didn't matter. (Nothing-)

"Nothing matters anymore." Derek choked out and turned the wheel.

Chapter Text

Everything hurt. Some places more than others but nevertheless, everything hurt like a bitch. Where was he? He tried opening his eyes but everything was too blurry and made his head ache. He groaned as he clenched his eyes, hoping to alleviate the pain and only making it worse.

He could hear noise but he couldn't make out what it was. Someone was holding his hand. It was warm and big and safe.

"S-Stiles?" He sobbed.

He heard sounds that might have been a reply but he couldn't tell, ears ringing like a gong had gone off in his head.

"I- Everything hurts so bad Stiles. What happened?"

He felt a burning in his veins before sleep took him.

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Derek woke up startled and crying.

"Stiles?! Stiles where are we?!"

He looked around frantically for a while, searching for his boyfriend before his eyes settled on the younger man in the chair beside his bed.

'Oh yeah.' He thought as Stiles shushed him, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of Derek's hand. 'We broke up.'

Derek swallowed as he looked around the room.

"Why are we in the hospital?"

Stiles looked at him strangely.

"Der, do you not remember what happened? You were- the cops say you were speeding and the ground was wet and slippery."

Oh, right. He layed back and looked at the ceiling.

"I don't remember." Derek lied, still avoiding Stiles's gaze.

"Well, they couldn't tell whether you swerved on purpose or not, so they're gonna send in a professional to see if you need help."

Derek swallowed and sat up, looking around and grabbed a cup of water that was half drunk from the cupboard beside his bed.

"So what, they think I tried to kill myself?"

Stiles was staring at him intently, Derek could tell even without looking.

"Didn't you?"

"No." Derek's voice was void of emotion but it was better than the way he knew it would crack otherwise.

Stiles's breathing hitched for a second.

"Derek. Did you try to kill yourself?"

Derek forced himself to look at Stiles. His eyes were guarded and red rimmed. (Why are you here?)

"No. Why the hell would I do that? I'm perfectly happy with my life, I ws even planning on getting a job at the library and everything. You know, spend my life doing what I love doing most, reading and having a shit ton of sex." (You don't even love me.)

Stiles flinched, his hand loosening but Derek panicked and tightened his own hold on the youngers hand, his heart rate picking up as he did.

"No- I'm sorry, I'm sorry that was a shitty thing to say, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, I just-"

"It's okay, calm down. You need to breath before you have another panic attack."

Stiles looked upset but didn't pull away.

"Why are you here? I mean- not that I don't want you here! It's just- I don't understand."

Stiles gave him that look again.

"I'm still your emergency contact. When you got here the hospital staff called. That was a couple of days ago and you've been in and out of consciousness for a while."

Derek looked at where their hands were connected, jarred by how familiar yet different they looked. He thought his might be paler, or maybe Stiles's had darkened a bit. Maybe he spent more time in the sun these days?

"You're lucky."

Derek looked up at his boy- ex.

"Just some cuts and bruises for the most part. And you might need to wear a leg brace for a while but no broken bones. Yiu did get a nasty cut on your eyebrow though, that might scar I think."

Derek willed away the memory of bashing his face into his bathroom mirror as best as he could.

"I haven't had sex since we broke up."

What.

"What?"

Derek's brain stalled for a second as he thought about his words. That was technically a lie. He'd hooked up with a few people, just one or two and then he'd just stopped completely.

"That's a lie, I think I had sex with a girl behind that bar near that pizza place we used to like. I don't know why I said that."

Stiles looked uncomfortable and his hand felt... different. Derek didn't let go though.

"Why are you telling me all this? Why are you lying? I don't get you anymore Derek."

Derek was crying now, but not those uncontrollable sobs he'd been prone to lately, just silent tears flowing down his face.

"I don't know what's happening to me. Everything feels weird and- and I don't know why I'm doing half the things I'm doing and everything feels pointless."

Stiles was crying now too, for some reason. His hand squeezed Derek's and he brought his other up to cup the side of Derek's face as he moved to sit on the hospital bed beside him.

"But then I'll go out and I'll buy like, a shit ton of food and I think I own a company now? I feel so- so weird. I can't figure myself out and it's like I don't even know who I am anymore."

Stiles leaned down to hug him and he could smell Stiles deodorant and cologne and that's when the sobbing started. They just sat there for a while, crying with each other.

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"Derek, did you try to kill yourself?"

Derek swallowed. Not sure how to answer.

"Are you gonna tell the doctors the truth?"

He looked away, not wanting to face Stiles.

"Are you gonna tell them what you told me? About how weird you're feeling?"

"You should-"

'Go. Leave. Don't come back, I don't want you here. I don't wanna hurt you. I don't want you at all. You left me.'

Derek didn't know why he was feeling all these... feelings, but it sucked because he couldn't even tell how he wanted to finish his sentences anymore. He knew one thing though. Now that Stiles was talking to him again, he was never gonna let him leave again. No matter how angry they got at each other.

"I should what? Leave? Stay out of it?"

Stiles looked pissed and Derek couldn't help but catch his face in one hand, his thumb rubbing at the downward turn of Stiles's lips.

"I always hated it when you frowned. Made you look like me."

Stiles snorted, face evening out a little to be more neutral but he was clear waiting for Derek's answer.

"Should you even be here? Like, are we even allowed to be- like this."

He made tilted his head to gesture at where Stiles was still sat on his bed, both his hands cradling Derek's like it was something precious.

Stiles opened and closed his mouth a few times.

"Look, this is only weird if we make it weird. I- I still care about you Derek. And know that I know you're struggling, I can't just turn my back on you."

"You did it before."

Stiles looked a little angry but mostly confused.

"When I said all that shit. You just- the sex wasn't the problem- I- I dunno what is and I don't know why I cheated on you and I get that I have no right to be angry but I still am! I hate that you left me, I never wanted that, I never want you to leave me again."

Derek moved up to kiss Stiles but he jumped up off the bed. Derek looked at him, hurt coloring his eyes. Both of their eyes.

"Stiles I-"

"No. No, you don't get to do that. Derek, I care about you, and I'm worried about you, but that does not mean I wanna be with you anymore."

Derek turned away, letting his tears wet his sheets.

Stiles sighed heavily.

"I've moved on, Derek. I've got a girlfriend, and a job, and I finally graduated. And it's not fair of you to try and throw me leaving in my face when you're the one who showed me the door. And you really hurt me Derek, with the cheating. That messed me up a little, I think."

"I'm sorry."

'For trying to kiss you. For blaming you. For wanting you back. For not having died when my car hit that tree.'

Stiles shuddered angrily.

"It's not okay. And I don't forgive you."

Derek nodded his head.

"But I'm gonna be here for you, okay?"

Derek sobbed and looked up at Stiles.

"I'm gonna- we're going to get you some help, and maybe I'll learn to understand. Maybe I'll forgive you someday, then it'll be okay."

'That's not enough.'

"Okay."

'I want more. I want you back. I want us back.'

Stiles smiled grimly.

"Okay."

Chapter Text

It wasn't like things were suddenly amazing.

Derek had been questioned about the crash by some blonde guy who kept making eyes at Stiles.

And Stiles just- fucking flirted right back! As if Derek wasn't right there- as if Stiles wasn't already spoken for! (By Ana, not you.)

And when the deputy left he actually had the nerve to pull Stiles into a hug! Even fucking kissed his forehead like they were longtime lovers, what the hell?!

"Who the fuck even was that guy?"

Stiles raised his eyebrows at Derek.

"Wha-"

"Are you fucking him? Does your girlfriend know? Were you two screwing around while we were together?"

Stiles's eyebrows were doing an impressive imitation of Derek's at the moment.

"Shut. Up. Okay, so first of all, I'm not the one who cheated on you, you," he gestured at Derek, "are the one who cheated on me!" His hands went to his chest. "And Jordan is dad's best deputy, he and his wife," emphasis of wife here, eyes a little manic even, "come around for dinner sometimes and I babysit their kid. Jordan is like a big brother to me, kinds like Scott except Scott and I are more like twins I guess." The anger seemed to disappear as he mumbled something about how they took care of each other versus how Jordan looked out for him. He snapped himself back into angry mode and Derek couldn't help the soft smile on his face. "Anyway, yeah, Jordan and I aren't like that. He just takes care of me and makes sure my dad doesn't get shot or sneak in donuts and stuff and I babysit his kid. Fuck you for being a jealous weirdo when you're the one that screwed me over!"

"I'm sorry. For snapping at you. I didn't know I just- paranoid I guess." Somehow Stiles managed to understand whatever nonsense Derek was trying and failing to say because he just nodded and took Derek's hand in his own as he picked up the book at Derek's bedside to start reading aloud to him.

Derek was glad Stiles kept his eyes on the book or else he might have let his hand go because to the smitten look on his face.

(He's never gonna want you back.)

'I'm gonna get him back, shut up.'

(He hates you, dumbass!)

Derek snorted to himself, wondering when he had started fighting with himself on a regular basis. That Voice had been there for months and he hadn't even realised until now. He'd just thought that was himself but it wasn't, he was smart enough to see that clearly Stiles didn't hate him.

He didn't reply and the Voice didn't have anything to say to that.

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"Alright, well, Mr Hale, My name is Tabatha Goodwill. I work for the hospital and you've been cleared by your doctors for me to ask you some questions, if that's alright with you."

Stiles startled and yelped as he turned to the older woman who had appeared behind him.

"Jesus, lady, wear a freaking bell next time!"

Derek just shifted uncomfortably. He'd noticed her walking up to them but that didn't make him any less nervous.

Dr. Goodwill smiled at Stiles.

"Sorry for frightening you, sweetheart but do you think you could give us a minute alone?"

Stiles was moving to stand, about to say "sure" but Derek grabbed his arm in a death grip. He turned to look at him and Derek's eyes were pleading with him not to go.

Stiles breathed softly enough that it didn't qualify as a sigh and turned to face the doctor as he sat back down.

"Actually, Doc, if it's okay with you, I don't think Derek's very found of the idea of being alone with anyone right now."

Dr. Goodwill raised her eyebrows at them, having noticed the little exchange but smiled soft nevertheless less as she sat in the seat Stiles sometimes occupied. She could have sat on the other side of the bed but from here she could see them both. They sat on the bed together, Derek bundled under the covers and both his hands now squeezing Stiles arms so hard they were sure to bruise. She tutted at the terrified look on her patients face.

"Now, now, Derek," she made sure to use his first name this time, to gauge his reaction, which was none (bar the sheer horror on his face at being directly adressed), "I'm not gonna eat you. I'm just here to ask you some questions."

Derek swallowed as he nodded, arms still gripping Stiles wrist. Stiles bit the inside of his mouth to keep from hissing in pain wiggled his arm a bit until Derek's hand slipped into his own. That might have been a mistake because now his fingers were being crushed between Derek's sweaty ones. Derek's other hand went to the back of his pants and he could feel the older man's fingers tighten around his belt, holding on tightly.

The doctor was writing something down but they couldn't see what she was writing.

"So, first off, it says here that in your report you admitted to intentionally driving your car off the road and into the woods?"

Derek gulped and looked at Stiles, willing him to talk for him like he had with the Jordan the other day.

Stiles sighed sadly.

"Look, Doc, I know this is super unorthodox but Derek's been a little shy talking since the acc- since the crash. So uh, I'm just gonna tell you what he told me.

He uh, he- well... he's been impulsive and reckless lately," The doctor started scribbling along as Stiles found his verbal footing again, "he's invested in some company but he has bo idea which one, he's planning on moving again even though he just got his old family home rebuilt a couple of months ago, he's had unsafe sex with multiple partners," Derek looked down guiltily as Stiles voice stayed steady, "he barely remembers to eat sometimes but other times he gorges himself. He hasn't been going out or seen his friends in a while and he sometimes he does shit and doesn't know why he's doing them. The crash was on purpose, but it was also an accident! He wasn't trying to kill himself, he just- turned the wheel."

Derek avoided looking at Stiles's earnest face and looked away when he felt the doctor staring at him.

"Derek, you barely survived. The only thing that kept you alive was that you crashed into bushes and shrubbery before your car hit the tree. The paramedics statement says that they suspect you were already unconscious at that point and your nurses all say you seem to be a bit dehydrated and malnourished."

Derek frowned as he removed his hand from Stiles's belt to pinch at his softening belly skin. That didn't seem malnourished to him.

The doctor sighed softly.

"Your weight has nothing to due with your nutrition, dear, your blood does. It says that you've good low iron and vitamins and your blood sugar is low too. When was the last time you ate, before you came to the hospital?"

Derek frowned at Stiles who stared sadly back at him. He knew logically that it made no sense but he was angry that Stiles couldn't read his mind.

"I had a hotpocket."

Stiles looked away from him and the doctor hummed thoughtfully. It wasn't really an answer but it gave away more than Derek knew.

"Okay, that's good, it's not ideal but at least you remembered to eat at all. And before that? Do you remember what you ate before the hot pocket?"

Derek blanched. His mind was blank, he couldn't remember much about what happened before bashing his head into the mirror.

"I don't know..."

Stiles took a wet sounding breathe, still avoiding Derek's gaze.

The doctor wrote something down.

"Okay, Derek, that's not good, but we'll work on it. Now, Stiles says you've been reckless with you're finances and with sex life, have you engaged in any other risky behavior? Any actions that might be considered self harm."

Derek felt like he was about to throw up. He'd been worried about that question. He couldn't get the image of him smashing his head into the mirror out of his mind. The way his face had twisted and his eyes became unrecognizable for a split second before he was suddenly himself again. Well, not exactly himself, but at least not whatever rage monster that was.

"No."

Dr. Goodwill softened her gaze further, imploring with her eyes now.

"Are you sure Derek."

Stiles's hand was trembling.

Derek's hand had unclenched as Stiles's got tighter.

"Just once."

A small stifled sniff that was threatening to become a sob had Derek falling back into a now familiar canoe of numbness.

"I hit my head into a mirror. I was just- I dunno. It's dumb- I just looked at the mirror and- and I was thinking, maybe I should by like, something for my beard. You know to- to keep it neat without having to shave it all off. But then I just thought that that was dumb. Who cares about a beard? Who cares about moving, or, or families or- or fucking laundry! What's the point? Why should I groom my beard?! Why should I get a job?! And it wasn't a hotpocket, it was a goddamn poptart!"

Derek breathed heavy as he forced himself to lay down. The doctor was staring at him with shock on her face.

Stiles started laughing. "You- you hate poptarts."

Derek looked at him as tears pooled into his eyes, blurring the world around him.

"Yeah, but you always complained when I didn't buy them for you."

Stiles had forced him together his hand go and Derek whimpered but Stiles his face with both hands, thumbs twisting into his thick beard.

"Dude, there is no point to grooming, or laundry or- fuck there is no point to living."

The doctor made a strangled sound but Stiles ignored her.

"But, like, that's the point? You don't have to read either, but you still do right?"

Derek nodded, his hands on Stiles wrists, thumbs over his dual pulses.

"Because you love it, you do you're laundry cos you wanna feel clean and smell good, and you get a job so you can meet new people and learn new things. You groom you're beard cos you wanna look pretty," Stiles grinned as Derek's face heated up under his hands, "and cos it makes you feel good to put in the effort. There is no point I'm anything, so you do random shit to make it meaningful. At least, that's how I always looked at it."

Derek didn't really know what to say to that. He did know one thing though.

"I love you."

Stiles huffed a laugh and kissed his forehead.

"I love you too, big guy."

.

.

.

(So, we're getting him back, right?)

'Oh yeah, definitely.'

Chapter Text

He was cleared to leave the hospital, and just as Stiles suspected he had to wear a leg brace for a while. It was better than a cast and crutches, but he still had to take a few seconds to himself to breath every now and then.

.

.

.

Stiles helped him a lot, drove him around and helped pick out a house.

(Our house.)

'He's even adding his own personal touches!'

(That vase is really fucking ugly. We should smash it over Ana's face.)

'He does talk about her a lot, doesn't he?'

(It's because he's moved on. He doesn't love you anymore.)

'He's gonna leave me.'

(He's already left you.)

.

.

.

He was invited to family dinner with the Stilinskis again and he'd been so nervous he almost had a panic attack.

(What if he hates me? What if he says I'm not good enough for Stiles anymore? What if he tells me to leave his son alone? What if he says I'm not family anymore?)

But he'd pulled himself together at the last second, making sure to calm himself down before Stiles came to pick him up. Whatever happened, he wanted to see John one last time. The man was like a father to him.

He only realised how ridiculous he was being when John pursed his lips and pulled Derek into a careful hug that Derek eagerly returned, minding the brace around Derek's leg.

Stiles obviously hadn't told him why they broke up. He wasn't about to ruin it though, not yet.

.

.

.

He should have just hired a moving company. This was too awkward for him, but Stiles had insisted on getting the others to help. They'd all showed up, but he was pretty sure it was because Stiles threatened them (Scott, Erica, Jackson) or asked very nicely (Lydia, Allison) or they were actually worried about him (Boyd, Isaac, Kira).

Scott and Erica kept glaring at him and the first words Erica had spoken to him were, "You've picked up weight." He'd sort of laughed at first, not really bothered by it but he couldn't help but notice the way everyone was looking at his not-as-defined arms and his somewhat rounder face, cheeks a bit fuller under his bushy beard.

They tried being normal but he could tell they were reining in their questions.

They had pizza and soda on the new furniture Derek and Stiles picked out

.

.

.

Derek hesitated for a second as he subconsciously rubbed a hand down his belly, not used to this kind of insecurity. When he'd seen it the other day he hadn't thought he was fat, in fact there was still substantial muscle there. It just wasn't as showy. All that had happened was his abs flattened out, but now, after what Erica said...

Stiles raised an eyebrow at him.

"Do you- do you think I look fat?"

Stiles startled for a moment.

"What? Der, no! Erica was just saying that stuff to be a bitch. Y'know, cos they don't get it, they don't understand why you couldn't be around them for the past couple of months."

Derek frowned deeper.

Stiles sighed.

"I think- I think you look amazing, Der. Softer, in a way, and cuddly. As hot as you were with all that definition, you're even hotter now, like I could-"

'Press you up a wall and have my way with you.' Stiles wisely chose not to speak those words out loud, having gotten lost in the memories of when he and Derek were still together.

"And besides, didn't you say you liked the way you looked?"

Derek still frowned.

"I guess. Maybe I should go back to the gym though, Dr. Goodwill said it helped to keep a routine."

He walked up to Stiles and took his hand, a comfort Stiles never begrudged him.

"Do you think I should tell them?"

Stiles frowned back at him, squeezing his hand in return.

"That depends on you. You should only tell them when you're ready, but for now just say you had to take some time to yourself. Blame it on the breakup or something."

Derek looked away.

"Technically there was no break up."

Stiles tried to catch his gaze but didn't say anything, letting him speak.

"I just messed up and freaked out. We never actually broke up."

"Derek," Stiles tone was soft but firm, "you told me to leave. That sounds like a break up to me."

Derek shrugged.

"I guess."

Stiles dropped his hand and made to leave but stopped for a few seconds, standing there before he turned to look at Derek again.

"I- I didn't tell anyone. I was angry but I didn't tell anyone you cheated on me. But I did tell them that you were the one that broke up with me, cos it's true, but the rest is our business. I didn't want them to hate you."

Derek's heart swelled even as it cracked a little, knowing that they hated him anyway for avoiding them for so long. Still, he was grateful for someone as amazing as Stiles on his side.

Stiles put his hands in his pockets, awkwardly looking around the space.

"Oh, and uh, Ana- Ana and I, we were wondering if you wanted to have dinner with us tonight?"

Derek frowned. Stiles wrinkled his nose.

"That sounds... awkward."

"Uh, yeah, I said so too. But, Ana figures the sooner we get this awkwardness out of the way, the sooner we can move past it."

"Is she seriously okay with all this? Us spending so much time together? You staying over some nights to make sure I don't break my neck falling down the stairs and everything?"

Stiles looked him in the eyes.

"Yeah. Ana trusts me. She knows I wouldn't do that."

(Unlike you.)

Derek held back a flinch.

"Cool. Yeah, okay then. I'd love to have dinner with you." He said blandly.

(Emphasis on you.)

'Shut up.'

.

.

.

It was awkward, just as predicted. Ana smiled warmly, obviously trying not let Derek and Stiles's tension bother her.

"So, Derek, Stiles says you managed to get a job as a librarian?"

(Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fu-)

Derek swallowed his food and cleared his throat.

"Uh, yeah- well technically no. I'm not a librarian, just work at the library."

Ana looked confused and smiled while nodding for him to continue.

(I hate you, I hate you, I hate yo-)

"Uh, you need to like, study to be a librarian, but you kind of just need an English or Literature degree to work at the library. It's basically the same job with different titles."

"Oh."

Silence.

Stiles stabbed at his food and kept his eyes on his plate. He clenched his eyes hard, trying to will this strangeness away so they could just eat dinner without it being- this!

Derek bit his lip and ignored the Voice's chanting.

"So, Ana. What are you studying for?"

Derek cringed visibly at how awkwardly his words came out of his mouth. It felt like the verbal version of shoving those toy blocks into the wrong shaped holes.

Ana looked pleasantly surprised and Stiles looked at him in shock for a second before going back to pretending he wasn't part of this dinner.

"Well, I actually finished this year, same as Stiles. I've applied at an elementary school in Houston and I start in the new year."

Derek's brows furrowed as he frowned.

"Houston? As in Texas?"

Stiles stilled.

Ana swallowed as she looked between the two men.

"Yep. I-uh- I've got family out there, so I figured it just made sense..."

As she trailed off she shot Stiles a look. She thought he'd told people about their plans to move.

Stiles swallowed as he avoided both of their gazes. Between everything that had been happening with Derek he'd kind of forgotten.

Derek blinked harshly.

(He's gonna leave, she's taking him away, he's leaving us again-)

'Not now. Later. In, 1,2,3,4-'

"That's... cool. It's nice that you want to be near your family."

Derek said flatly. They all winched.

Stiles cleared his throat.

"So, uh... Dad said he really liked the beard! Said it suited you."

"Thanks." Derek said as he stood. "Sorry, I just- I forgot I had to do- whatever." Derek awkwardly made his escape, practically running out the door and ignoring his half eaten food.

He tried to calm himself in the elevator ride down, wiping away his tears and quickly made his way out the doors to the Toyota he'd bought. He was only planning on using it until his Camaro got fixed up but he knew he was getting attached to the 'mom car'.

Fucking Stiles, invading every piece of him then tearing himself out, ripping Derek to pieced over and over an-

Derek drove carefully, going below the speed limit so he wasn't tempted to just run himself off the road and into a tree again. He tried to focus on the feel of the brace still over his leg, it didn't hurt or anything butbit was still a notable pressure. He didn't want to do that again, he wanted to deal with this in a healthy way.

He still stopped to get a few tubs of ice cream before going home though.

Chapter Text

Derek was zoning out listening to his friends yammer on and on, but they didn't seem to mind. They still made sure to engage him so he didn't feel left out but otherwise conversation flowed without them hounding him. Maybe they were finally getting used to him again. Maybe this is how they'd always talked but he hadn't realised. He didn't really care.

He was in his canoe again, but the waters were tame. There was obviously sadness and anger and everything, but not as bad as before, and he found that the water felt calm sometimes. He didn't know what he was feeling but he felt happy just existing with all these people who seemed happy that he existed. It was nice.

"-and she was acting like a freaking schizo!"

Derek frowned.

"What? What's that?"

Jackson paused and looked up at him, clearly surprised at his input.

"Uh, you know, a schizo- a schizophrenic person."

Derek shook his head. He'd heard about schizophrenia but he didn't know what that meant, actually.

Jackson sat himself upright. Their friends all sat at attention, waiting for him to butcher the meaning entirely.

"Schizophrenia is when you hear voices in your head. They tell you to do weird shit and hurt people and be gross-" he noticed the frowns he was getting, "sometimes! Only sometimes, and mostly people can take and ignore those voices. It's-"

"It's a mental condition that you don't have the qualifications to speak about." Lydia hit the back of his head. "It has many characteristics and displays differently between different people. But honesty, if you're all so curious about it I would suggest talking to an actual mental health care professional." Derek knew she was talking to him, even if she was addressing them all. She had a way of letting you know without actually saying anything. "Just be glad Stiles wasn't here to hear that, mental wellbeing has always been a sore subject for him and hearing your bullshit explanation would have set him off."

Oh yeah. Stiles's mom. Claudia.

Derek frowned to himself. What was it she'd died of again? Dementia. Fronto-temporal dementia. What was the difference anyway? It didn't really matter. Or maybe it did? No, he was fine, he didn't have what she had, he wasn't erratic- or rather, he wasn't as erratic as Stiles described her, and he didn't suffer from hallucinations. Probably. How would he even be able to tell? So many questions.

.

.

.

"Do I have schizophrenia?"

Dr. Goodwill raised a surprised eyebrow.

"Why do you ask, Derek?"

Derek shrugged.

"I dunno, it's just- my friends were talking the other day and one of them said something about schizos hearing voices or something."

Dr. Goodwill frowned and pursed her lip.

"We typically refer to people with schizophrenia and being schizophrenic, you should let your friend know that's a very harmful word. It others those with schizophrenia and makes them seem somehow different, as though they aren't as human as we are."

Derek frowned, but nodded. He hadn't really thought about stuff like that before. To be fair, it's not like he had ever used mental illness and sexuality and stuff as insults, but he still felt like an idiot for not knowing stuff like this, now that it involved him. He bet Stiles knew all the words that were offensive and what was acceptable to say.

"Now, why do you think you have schizophrenia? Do you hear voices, Derek?"

Derek swallowed. Fuck. Now he had to be honest.

"Kind of? I don't know. It's like- I didn't even know I had one, but it was there whispering to me all the time? Like, saying mean things, or being a jerk, or telling me things I know aren't true."

"And are they inside of your head or do you hear them outside of your head?"

"Inside."

Dr. Goodwill waited for him to continue but nodded when she realised that was all he could vocalise about it today."

"Alright. Well, to begin with, people experiencing schizophrenia tend to hear auditory hallucinations outside of their heads. There are also many other characteristics of schizophrenia which you do not display. Some, yes, but that's because many mental health disorders tend to have overlapping symptoms. For instance, ADHD and ADD both typically go hand in hand with insomnia, depression and anxiety."

Derek frowned. Stiles had ADD and ADHD. Sure he had a weird sleep schedule sometimes and he definitely showed signs of anxiety in high stress situations, but Stiles had never seemed depressed or anything.

"All that this means is that people sometimes get the wrong diagnosis- particularly when they attempt to self diagnose." She leveled Derek with a meaningful smile.

Derek smiled back and blushed, scratching the side of his head.

"Now see, the voice that you're describing sounded like you're typical anxiety- pushing your down, expecting the worst, etcetera. You also show signs of depression- that 'ocean of sadness' and your 'numb-canoe'- they're the same thing ultimately, they just present differently."

Derek took a deep breathe. He didn't really feel anxious. Maybe the depression thing had some merit but what about all that other stuff he'd done?

"That being said, the symptoms you've been describing, the irritablitity, the moodswings, it all seems to suggest either Borderline Personality Disorder of Bipolar Disorder, specifically Bipolar II, Hyopmania, though it is too early to be certain of which."

Derek stared at her for a while, not really sure of what to say. Those sounded more like movie titles than mental disorders. He could see the posters now, 'Bipolar 2 - Hypomania!!!'. He resisted the urge to giggle.

This whole therapy thing was weird, but it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. He still didn't really know what was wrong with him but maybe that wasn't such a big deal anyway?

.

.

.

"Hello, nephew."

Derek turned to leave as soon as he heard his uncles voice but instead came face to face with his sister blocking the door. He swallowed.

"Cora?"

She gave a sort of half smirk as she came up to hig him.

"Hey, Der."

Derek squeezed her back, frowning softly at the air behind her. Why were they here? Why were they both here? Last he'd hear, Cora had been down in South America and his uncle had still been in New York. To coordinate their arrivals like this–

"Enough, Derek. Thinking was never really your best quality so stop before you hurt yourself."

Derek glared at his uncle as he was pulled away from his sister and into his uncles arms. He looked around uncomfortably until Peter let him go.

"Wow. You've gained weight."

"Peter."

Cora glared at their uncle and punched him in the shoulder.

They shared a glance before looking at Derek again. He swallowed again.

"Oh. Did Stiles call you guys?"

Peter breathed through his nose and Cora shifted minutely, probably not comfortable with where this conversation was headed.

"Yes. And I might have hired someone to hack into your shrinks computer. She thinks you might have Bipolar Disorder, or BPD."

Derek grimaced at his uncle who just rolled his eyes as if Derek was being the dramatic one.

"Oh stop with the sour face, it doesn't matter as long as no one finds out."

Derek sighed.

"So it's true then? You tried to kill yourself?" Cora sounded mostly level but he could hear her voice waver just the slightest bit.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah I did–but I'm better now! It was just a fluke, and Dr. Goodwill has me on some mood stabilizers to see what works for me. I'm fine now I was just–having a bad day." Or rather, a bad couple of months.

Peter shook his head as though disappointed. "It's because you and Stiles broke up isn't it?"

"What!?" Cora looked between them in shock. Derek had tried to keep this from them as hard as possible so it made sense that she wouldn't have known until now.

Derek glared half-heartedly at Peter. "It's not because we broke up–"

"Except it is. But don't worry, nephew. While Cora and I are here we'll make sure you win him back."

'Maybe it won't be so bad having him around for once.'

Derek tried to ignore the Voice. "He has a girlfriend." He protested weakly.

Cora turned on her heel and head to the kitchen.

Peter grinned sharkishly.

"Not for long, nephew. Not for long."