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Derek makes it to Beacon Hills at five am on a Saturday.
He makes it to the loft at five thirty am and parks in front of it for about five minutes before driving away.
It doesn't feel like home anymore.
He goes to the place that was once considered home before someone barged into his life and ruined everything. But he tries to forget that because that person is gone and everyone he cared about is gone so what's the use?
The Hale house is still there, even though it technically isn't. Pieces of burnt wood are on the ground, dirt and sand along with a few construction vehicles around it. Derek should be angry; they're tearing his house down, the one he and his family used to live in, in peace and in happiness. But he isn't mad, angry, upset or even sad to see this place getting wrecked.
He's relieved.
Probably because that place stopped feeling like home once the people who used to live in it were gone. But he refuses to accept that thought because he doesn't want to feel that way, he doesn't want to feel like as if he had stopped caring about his family.
He drives away at five fifty and makes it to Stiles' house at six am sharp.
The boy smells like home.
Derek's confused because he's not sure if he actually is, but he feels like it. He smells like innocence and grass, old books and affection. He doesn't know why those scents make him feel safe and delighted, but he's glad they do.
He can feel Stiles' warmth because the teen is only a few feet away and he doesn't know that Derek is outside of his window, not having the courage to climb through it like he used to do. It used to feel so normal and obligatory, but now he feels unwelcome and out of place.
He stands on the ledge and places his fingers on the always open window. He slowly begins to slide the glass upwards, but he stops when he takes one good look at Stiles' sleeping face.
He's got bags under his eyes and his skin is paler than how he had last saw it before he left. Stiles is clinging onto his pillow like a small child and he looks so vulnerable and peaceful; Derek doesn't want to ruin that.
So he leaves at six fifteen am and makes to his loft at around six thirty
He takes a shower, a cold one because he wants to wake himself up. He's tired because he's been driving all day, but he doesn't want to rest, probably because he doesn't feel like he deserves a break.
He eats a few saltine crackers and some artificial bottle of grape juice he had bought at the gas station a few hours ago, it was already half empty and it was a bit warm because it sat in the car for too long. But he still drinks it because he's had worse things.
Derek tries not to feel awkward in his own house, but fails. Turns out that leaving your home town for a few months makes you feel like crap when you return. He didn't expect to feel this shitty, he had actually thought he would feel relieved and thankful that he was back.
But all he wanted to do was to crawl into a hole of nothing and never come out.
He didn't want to face Scott because he knows he'll be confused and disappointed as to why Derek had left at such a time. He didn't want to see Malia because she would ask too many questions and she would say she understands just for the sake of trying to be a good cousin, but she wouldn't because not even Derek understands why he left. Lydia scares him because he doesn't know how she'll react, there's no telling from her but he senses it's not good.
But Stiles frightens him the most.
Not because he feels like as if he would be angry, or mad or disappointed. But more because it's just Stiles in general. He's afraid of Stiles, afraid of the things he does; afraid of the way he doesn't care about hurting himself as long as it saves the other; afraid of the way he makes something inside of Derek feel so weak and breakable.
Afraid because only Paige had given Derek that kind of fear and she was now gone; Derek doesn't want the same thing happening to Stiles.
Derek sat on the couch, he doesn't know how long it's been but he's just staring at the window and watching the sun go all the way up. It's peaceful and soothing but Derek can't seem to shake off all those negative feelings.
Just by looking at the sun and calculating how long he's been sitting, Derek can tell it's around eight am when someone lightly knocks at his door.
He immediately senses who it is, the familiar smell coming at him like a wrecking ball. But the young man refuses to believe that it's who he thinks it is, even if he's pretty sure his trusty wolf sense of smell would never betray him.
Derek doesn't notice that he hasn't gotten up until they knock at the door again, this one's a bit more frantic because it's louder and there are four quick knocks. Derek gets up on his feet and takes his time walking to the door. The closer he gets, the less he can deny that it isn't Stiles, because his scent is now all he can breathe at the moment.
Derek tries to stop himself from holding his breath when he slides the door open, but he can't help it when he all he can smell is confusion, anxiety and embarrassment; all coming from Stiles.
The door's open and Stiles is there on the other side; he doesn't look surprised or happy to see Derek, there's just an emotionless look on his face.
Stiles eyes him up and down and Derek wonders how Stiles knew that he was back at Beacon Hills.
"Stiles." Derek greets but it comes out a bit choked because it's been a long time since he's said that name out loud.
The teen still looks tired; the bags under his eyes he had saw previously were even more prominent now that he was awake. For some reason he looks skinnier and smaller even though there isn't much of a height difference between the two, Derek has to tilt his head down to look at him this time. Stiles is wearing a t-shirt and a large hoodie that's sliding off of one side of his shoulder, he's wearing baggy sweats and untied sneakers. He had obviously dressed up in a hurry and Derek doesn't want to think that it was because of him.
Stiles doesn't greet back, he just stares at him for a few more seconds before his emotionless expression turns into one of pure anger, disappointment and disbelief. This grunting sound leaves his lips and he brings his shaking hands to Derek's chest shoves him back and the man is surprised by the sudden force coming from his weak-looking body which isn't as weak as he thought.
Stiles begins to slap and punch his chest and his shoulders, the impacts are hard and strong but Derek can take it. He deserves what he's getting, he deserves worse.
Stiles has now shoved him into the middle of the room, the sunlight reflecting perfectly on his furious and disgusted face. He continues to throw punches and he's yelling things like "fuck you" and "why?" and the one that hurts the most "I hate you" even though Derek is sure he doesn't mean it.
"Y-you selfish little piece of shit!" Stiles shouts, throwing a few more punches before they began to die down. Little uneven breaths begin to go through his clenched teeth and his eyes had gone glassy.
Derek saw the first tear run down Stiles' face, as much as he wanted to wipe it away, he didn't. Stiles doesn't need him touching him, at least, not right now.
"We needed you!" Stiles shouts again, the punches and slaps that were hitting his chest were coming at him slowly and with minimal strength. "I-I needed you." Stiles voice breaks and the fists on Derek's chest were now just shaking hands resting upon him.
Stiles' face rests on his front and Derek can feel tears beginning to soak his shirt, but he doesn't push him away, he lets him.
"I needed you, Derek." He sobs quietly and he slowly begins to slide down and for a moment, Derek thought that Stiles had fainted.
So before he can fall down, Derek grips his biceps and slowly goes down on his knees along with Stiles, making sure that he doesn't fall over.
There are blotches of red on his cheeks and neck, his face is wet with tears and his eyes are squeezed shut and Derek can smell the embarrassment and emotional pain replacing the anger.
"Hey, hey." Derek spoke softly, bringing his hands up to cup the teen's face, wiping the tears away with his thumbs and tilting his head up so he could look at him. "Stiles, open your eyes for me." And it's a demand, but his voice is soft and caring and Stiles slowly blinks his eyes open.
His eyelashes are clumped together because of the tears, his glassy eyes look golden as they reflect against the morning sun. A thousand poetic thoughts run through Derek's head at the sight, but he says nothing because this isn't the right time or place to speak his mind (it never really is the right time or place for anything in his life).
Stiles leans into his touch, looking calmer even though there are still tears streaming down his face. He's hiccuping and it reminds Derek of when he had saw Stiles sleeping in his room a few hours ago, how Stiles looks like a little boy even though he's a strong young man with a brave heart.
Sometimes even the strongest have their weakest moments.
Stiles looks at him and then his lips start to tremble and even more tears begin to stream down his face. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Stiles' voice is hushed and raspy because of all the shouting, but Derek can hear him perfectly.
Derek caresses his cheeks with his thumbs, wiping the tears away in the process. Stiles warms up to the touch and closes his eyes and lets out a shakey sigh that sounded like relief. "No, no. Don't apologize; I deserved it. I deserve so much worse." Derek spoke quietly, as if he were afraid to startle Stiles. "I'm sorry, okay? I should be the one apologizing. I'm sorry for leaving."
And Stiles nods in his hands, there are no more tears but he's still sad. Derek then pulls him into a hug, wrapping his arms around his waist and Stiles hugs back with his arms around his neck.
They now sit on the ground looking at the morning sun. They're sitting next to each other and Stiles is resting his head on Derek's shoulder and Derek can't help but ask. "How'd you know I was back?"
It takes Stiles a moment to answer. "My window was open." He croaks. "I thought you were gone, honestly. But when I saw that window open, damn, I-I've never felt so angry and relieved in my life."
Derek smiles at that and turns to look at Stiles who now has taken his head off of his shoulder. He stares into his tired eyes for a moment before speaking. "I'm not going anywhere. Not again.
Stiles tries to hold back a smile, but he can't help it. There's still some sadness laced in his expression but Derek can't blame him
The teen nods and doesn't say anything, they just continue to enjoy the moment of finally having each other by their side.
This feels like home.