Chapter Text
“Why are you being such a stubborn ass about this?”
Stiles’ chest stings as his lungs pull in the air they’d been screaming for during each second spent running through the darkening woods. His legs ache and his head is pounding: Stiles’ tongue is dry but he tries to wet his lips out of habit. His fingers itch with a restless energy and his heart is trying desperately to escape his chest. Whether it’s due to the adrenaline or pain, Stiles isn’t sure, but he wishes it would calm down and let him hear the words he’s throwing at Derek.
He’s tossing the words so they’ll cut like knives, and leave a mark, but they’re more like life preservers if Stiles is being honest with himself. He’s not sure if he’s trying to save himself or Derek though; maybe both of them.
“Call it a character flaw,” Derek snaps and Stiles rolls his eyes.
“I call it being a coward actually.”
Derek stiffens at Stiles’ words, but doesn’t make a move towards him.
Shadows slowly creep across the ground as the sun sets. The windows of the half-finished house reflect the sun’s rays and the clearing looks a little brighter than the woods behind them. It’s not cold, but the look in Derek’s eyes make Stiles shiver.
He’s been shut out.
“You need to go home.”
Stiles takes a couple steps towards Derek whose body is so tense, like a stone statue. Stiles can barely make out the movement of Derek’s chest as he breathes shallowly.
“And you need to quit running away and answer my question.”
“What do you want me to say?” Derek grits through his teeth and Stiles can’t stop the twisted laugh that falls from his lips. He doesn’t notice the way Derek’s body flinches slightly, like his laugh was a punch that just missed its mark.
“Try the truth; I hear it will set you free.” Stiles folds his arms over his chest in an attempt to protect himself from whatever Derek has to say.
“That’s rich coming from you. Where does your dad think you are right now Stiles?”
It’s a low blow and Derek hates the way his words crash into Stiles and make him wince in guilt. Stiles’ eyes fill with anger and his voice is low when he replies.
“I lie to protect people, you lie because you’re scared of people realizing just how fucked up you really are!”
The clearing holds its breath and Stiles’ stares at Derek in horror as if he hadn’t been the one to speak. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Stiles wants to pull the words back into his mouth and swallow them like the bitter pills his mother had in her medicine cabinet when she was sick. Stiles’ chest aches for a different reason as Derek turns around and heads towards the house.
“Derek, wait… man I shouldn’t have said that,” Stiles says shakily and he takes a few tentative steps forward.
“Like I care what you think.” Derek’s voice is low and harsh and it hits Stiles like a ton of bricks.
He reaches his hand out to touch Derek’s back, but Derek spins around and the red glare of his eyes stop Stiles dead in his tracks.
“Why would I care about what you think? You’re just some stupid kid playing wolf, pretending like you’re someone special when you’re not. You’re not pack Stiles, you are nothing!”
Stiles thinks his heart stops before restarting and beating out an SOS painfully against his ribs.
‘Well, I did ask for the truth’ he thinks and the thought bounces around in his head: A malicious echo that mixes with Derek’s words until it becomes white noise blocking out the blood rushing through his ears.
Stiles nods and realizes his hand is still reaching towards Derek. He drops it as if burned and turns on his heels and lets the woods swallow him up.
Derek doesn’t come after him.
- - - - - -
Contrary to the conflicting mess that is relationship lore, Stiles does not go catatonic when he gets home.
Take that Bella Swan.
He takes a shower, turns off his phone, and crawls between his sheets. The sun rises the next morning and Stiles takes a deep breath before getting out of bed. Rinse. Lather. Repeat.
Stiles doesn’t expect Scott to notice anything, it took his best friend a while to realize that he and Derek were occasionally swapping spit, but when Scott asks him what’s wrong at his locker Stiles vows to doubt him less.
How do you tell your best friend that the guy you were slowly falling in love with flat out said you were nothing but a waste of space, and you’ve secretly felt that way about yourself once or twice on a bad day? The answer is, you don’t.
“I’m just tired,” Stiles assures Scott and it seems to work. That becomes his main excuse in the following months and every time he says it, his body starts to agree. Scott suggests warm milk or hot tea before bed and if he looks more worried every time Stiles lies to him, he tries to ignore the guilt bubbling in his stomach.
Isaac and Boyd don’t necessarily ignore him, but then again even when he and Derek were a ‘thing’ they didn’t treat him differently. Sometimes he’ll catch Isaac staring sadly at him and it makes Stiles’ throat tighten uncomfortably. He doesn’t want pity from Derek’s puppies and it makes him angry: Not angry enough to say anything though – he doesn’t want to risk Scott finding out and threatening to beat Derek into the ground.
Stiles likes his best friend breathing thank you very much.
Allison offers him sympathetic smiles and kind eyes that make him glad she’s still in his life despite the thin ice she and Scott are carefully skating across. It hasn’t been easy for them, but Stiles thinks they’ll pull through in the long run.
Lydia seems to know exactly what’s eating at him and offers to take him shopping, as if spending money he doesn’t have will cure his heart’s woes. He goes once so she’ll have something to distract her from the Jackson shaped hole in her heart and she buys him a pair of jeans so tight they’re bound to attract someone to fit in the Derek shaped hole in his.
Stiles appreciates her optimism and Lydia appreciates his silence.
Being in school makes it easy to disregard the absence of Derek in his life. Beacon Hills has been quiet since the Alpha pack skipped town. Sure, there was the occasional bump in the night, but he turned a blind eye unless the body count was too high or Derek hadn’t dealt with it yet. Stiles tries not to feel bad when his dad makes an offhanded comment about him actually being home more.
He tries not to think about how many nights he spent at Derek’s loft, using Scott as a cover. Some nights Stiles doesn’t sleep because the memories of how Derek’s hands felt against his back are too close to the surface. He had tried taking all of those moments and shoving them into a black corner in the back of his mind, but some refused to be locked away. When he’s so tired he almost falls out of his chair, he can see every kiss replay like an old time projector behind his eyelids. Those nights are the worst.
Eventually the delicate peace he finds at school is shattered and then it’s hit after hit until Stiles feels the claws of panic sink into his chest.
- - - - - -
“I haven’t seen Derek in a while, did you two fight or something?”
Stiles doesn’t choke on his water, but it’s a near thing. The cafeteria is loud and busy as it always is, but Stiles can only hear Scott’s question ringing in his ears. Their table goes silent and Stiles can feel everyone’s eyes on him waiting for an answer. Isaac and Boyd straighten in their seats while Lydia and Allison trade concerned looks. Danny and Scott just watch him patiently and Stiles knows he can’t really lie anymore.
“Well, yeah you could say that. We uh… broke up I guess you’d say about two months ago,” Stiles sighs and tries not to wince at Scott’s indignant exclamation.
“What? Why didn’t you tell me? Did you break up with him or…?”
Stiles feels incredibly uneasy and his face is warm and he’s pretty sure his heart’s beating way too fast to be considered healthy.
“Whoa dude, calm down. You’re freaking me out here,” Scott says gingerly and reaches out to touch his arm. It’s too late though, Stiles is miles away – traveling back in time to that night when Derek confirmed his deep fears of uselessness. He’s nothing and he’s shaking apart.
Stiles doesn’t feel his knee hit the table when he throws himself up and runs out of the cafeteria. He can feel everyone’s stare and it makes him run faster. He just needs to get away, just far enough to breathe without using their air. He finds a bathroom and splashes water on his face, breathing quickly but not hyperventilating.
He fights the tightening in his chest, the burning of his heart, and the throbbing of his head just long enough to slide down the wall and curl into a ball. It takes all Stiles has to stifle the noises trapped in his throat and he wipes angrily at his wet eyes before slowing his breath enough to where the twinge in his chest lessens and he’s able to unfurl his limbs. Stiles tries to relax his muscles and he leans his head back against the cold wall and just breathes.
He’s not sure how long he sits there, but when he opens his eyes Isaac is standing in front of him. Stiles can hear Scott and the others outside and he huffs in amusement when he hears the threats Scott is determined to make Boyd pass onto Derek.
“He’s miserable too,” Isaac says and Stiles doesn’t reply with the ‘Good. He should be,’ his mind supplies him with. Stiles doesn’t really think anyone deserves to feel this wrecked and run through – even if they dealt the fatal blow.
Isaac offers him a hand up and Stiles takes it. He nods once and goes to grab Scott before they’re late for their next class.
Scott spends the entire way to their lockers jumping from apologizing for upsetting Stiles and calling Derek an asshole who doesn’t deserve him. Stiles’ love for Scott increases tenfold when Scott offers to take Stiles to the Jungle so he can dance his heartbreak away in a crowd of attractive sweaty men. Stiles shakes his head, but says he’s up for a weekend of scary movies and unhealthy snacks that make him regret having a stomach the following day.
“I’ll bring the Saw movies,” Scott agrees and throws his arm around Stiles’ shoulders and proceeds to insult Derek – from his taste in décor to his colorless wardrobe all the way to class. Stiles can’t remember laughing so hard in weeks, though it was a very bittersweet feeling in the end.
Stiles thinks about Derek on his way home and as he makes dinner that night. He half expects Derek to be standing by his window, and he isn’t sure why he’s so disappointed when he opens the door and Derek’s not there.
‘You miss him,’ his mind coos gently and Stiles wants to deny it until he’s blue in the face. He wants to break something or shout obscenities out his window, but he settles for killing Orcs on the Xbox until his eyes start to get heavy. He doesn’t have class in the morning so he turns his alarm off before sliding into bed and letting sleep carry him into the dark.
He’s not asleep long when he hears the familiar opening of his window. The thing is, Stiles imagined he heard that sound for weeks after they broke up. Part of him thinks it’s just his imagination playing a mean prank on him like it had done many times, but when he feels the cool air on his face he knows it’s not in his head anymore.
Stiles cracks an eye open and sees Derek standing by his desk, body illuminated by the moonlight outside. He doesn’t pretend to be asleep, he knows Derek can hear how his heart kicked it up a notch and he probably heard the hitch in his breath too.
“Long time no see,” Stiles utters sitting up and laying his arms across his knees.
Derek doesn’t say anything and Stiles tries not to take it personally. He waits as patiently as he can for Derek to speak and after a couple of minutes Stiles’ is done.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re doing here and quite frankly if you’re here to recruit my superb researching abilities you can just shove it. I hope that whatever monster has come to Beacon Hills scratches your car and rips your leather jacket,” Stiles huffs in annoyance before moving to lie back down in bed.
“Isaac told me you had a panic attack in school today.”
Stiles freezes and looks back at Derek who seems to be on edge standing in his room. Werewolves don’t really fidget, but Derek is and it makes Stiles curious.
“It wasn’t a full attack,” Stiles replies and before Derek can speak he asks, “Why do you care anyway?”
Derek’s head snaps up at this and his body language is screaming ‘pissed off’ but Stiles doesn’t understand what’s happening right now so he just shrugs. As soon as it came, the anger leaves quickly and Derek stands there defeated and Stiles is even more confused.
“I care,” Derek whispers into the darkness and Stiles tries very hard not to breathe too loudly. He takes the small bud of hope and traps it in his fist for now, unwilling to let it bloom only to be ripped apart again.
Derek senses his hesitation and makes towards the window, but he pauses when he sees Stiles make a move to reach out and grab his arm.
Stiles stops when Derek looks at him and sighs, wiping a hand over his face as he tries to gather his thoughts into nice little boxes.
“Look, it’s like two in the morning and I am exhausted. I’m also really confused and pissed off and I can’t possibly be expected to deal with whatever this is. I mean, it’s not like I can forget what you said and no – I don’t care what you have to say about that right now because Isaac told me you were miserable and a small part of me is willing to believe you said all those horrible things so I would let you go and if that’s the case then fuck you Derek. Just fuck you so hard for doing that to me and I should probably kick you out of my house and tell you to stay away for like ever, but I’m really tired and it’s cold in my room now so just shut up, get in bed, and we’ll cross all those bridges tomorrow morning when I’ve made us pancakes or something.”
Derek stares at him in disbelief and after what feels like hours, he finally moves. He shuts the window and begins to strip down to his underwear before hesitantly sliding into the bed. Stiles watches him and tries not to make any noises indicating how nice it felt to have Derek in bed with him again – even if it was just to sleep. He turns his back to Derek and waits for him to wrap himself around Stiles like he used to. Stiles is almost asleep when he feels Derek throw an arm over his side and pull him closer to his chest.
Stiles melts into the embrace and bites back his grin when Derek buries his face in his shoulder.
“You’re still an asshole,” Stiles says quietly.
“I know.”
“And we’re going to have a painfully long and emotional talk tomorrow that you can’t just run from if it gets uncomfortable.”
“I know.” Derek’s breath ghosts over Stiles’ ear and he laughs a little at the sensation.
“Scott’s out for your blood so you might have to take a punch or two from him to satisfy his best friend duties.”
Derek hums in reply and Stiles can feel Derek slipping into sleep and it makes him want to turn around and kiss him, but he holds back. He’s not there yet and maybe after tomorrow he will be.
“I missed you.”
Derek’s breath hitches at the confession and his arms tighten around Stiles and he presses a tender kiss on his neck. Stiles is warm and feels exhaustion take him over after Derek replies softly.
“I missed you too.”