The silence that filled Dereks apartment was deafening.
He wanted to leave, to let go of the scent that lingered in his pillow. In his shirts and mattress. In his very being.
But he couldn't.
He wanted to turn off the memories. The laughter and the pain and the worry. Wanted to ignore all the things that he found. The belt in his closet. The sweatshirt in his couch. The toothbrush in bathroom.
He wanted to forget the night that there was blood. That his boyfriend smelled of death. That they had both died but one still walked. One still breathes but isn't really alive without the other.
He wanted to erase the pictures. The picture of the boy who had pretty brown eyelashes and a perfect smile. The pictures of him sleeping in the couch. Of him outside the apartment complex they had been looking at.
It wouldn't be just his apartment then. It would theirs.
It wouldn't just his anything. It would all theirs.
But now it wouldn't be.
Now he couldn't do anything.
He wanted to forget.
Forget all the things they did Stiles room with his dad downstairs. Forget all the things he took the time to when they were alone. Forget the tombstone and the funeral and-
Derek hit the wall.
It cracked.
The silence returned.
"Der?"
A voice called from his kitchen, making him perk up.
"Stiles?"
A small laugh came from the living room.
"I know your home, your cars outside!" The sound of Stiles flopping onto his couch made him confused.
"What-"
"You really need to get popcorn or something. I can't keep stealing food from Scotts."
This time from the bedroom.
Derek shook his head, trying to remove the thoughts.
"God, why are you such an asshole?!" A small thump. "You need to get over yourself...Der, don't even try to explain yourself! What the fuck is wrong with you? I-I can't.." The slamming if a door. The reopening and then the whine that Derek had permitted at Stiles receding back.
The memories. The feelings. The pain.
Why couldn't Derek make it stop? Why couldn't he just forget? He wanted to forget so goddamn badly. He couldn't do anything to stop himself from hurting.
"Hey, DerBear, I know that you really don't want to talk but can't we just-" the voice stopped. "I know, but-" a small huff of sadness. "Just..call me sometimes to let me you're okay..I worry about you, y'know?"
Derek growled openly, wanting to change, to feel something other than sad.
The growl sent shivers down his spine.
"Derek..? You said that you wouldn't change when I was around, remember? You promised."
Derek sprinted out the door and onto the balcony, trying to push away from the thoughts.
"Hey." Stiles said, leaning gently against the guard railing beside him.
"You shouldn't lean on that." He said back, reaching to touch his boyfriend hip.
His hand went through, the image dissipating.
He jumped over the railing, landing almost catastrophically in the pavement below.
The pain send memories straight through his eyes.
"Der! Why would you do that?" Stiles looking down at him from the last time he jumped off. "You could've-well...you couldn't have died...but you scared me! That's what matters!"
He felt himself laugh.
The image disappeared.
His smile went with it.
"Stiles, what are you doing?" He heard his own voice from a few feet away.
He saw Stiles standing in the room, in tears.
"Why would you care, asshole? It's not like you're ever around!"
Tears prick his eyes, just like they did then.
"I care because I love you." The beer glass dropped out of Stiles hand and hit the ground when Derek hugged him.
Derek couldn't handle anymore.
He ran, leaving all of his things, all of his memories.
Except one thing.
That stupid blue and yellow stripped shirt. He couldn't leave it.
Couldn't leave every memory of his boyfriend.
He just needed one.
Scott and Lydia went to his apartment, only to find a note, telling them where he had gone, and why.
It was a long time before they saw him again, and even then...
He wasn't the same Derek Hale that had left.
Stiles had broken him.
Just as he had broken Stiles.
But in the end.
He liked it.