He glanced at the framed photograph on his desk unable to hold back a smile. The only photo of them he has. It was taken the year he made first line—and actually played. He was wearing red jeans and a short-sleeve blue shirt as apart of the outfit Lydia insisted he buy to fit his new status. He'd done it mostly to make her smile—Jackson had left that summer. The photo was a memoir, of sorts, one of the rare moments of peace during their time in high school. He picked up the photo and ran his thumb along the cranberry red frame and looked down at their smiles. Isaac, standing next to Scott, had his arm around a smiling Boyd, pulling him in close. Scott's arm—the one not around Isaac—was slung on Stiles' shoulder, touching Derek's back. Next to Derek, Peter and Danny stood smiling and laughing just as much as the rest of them. In the midst of all this, Lydia stood making a duck face. Allison took the photograph, he remembers. She'd— ironically because of the whole Matt thing—been the only one handy with a camera.

A swarm of memories flowed through his mind, each one as painfully sweet as they had been every other time he brought up the past. 'You've thrown them, your memories, all in a closet,' Danny had said once, 'So now, when you open it, they burst out and trample you.' It's not that he regretted what happened, no; not even thinking of Erica made him regret it all. He was tired of always feeling like he was suffocating. Like the person standing next to him would, in a moment, become a monster he was entirely unprepared to fight. Living a normal life and holding on to Beacon Hills, as he knew it, was impossible, his first week at MIT had taught him that. He was glad of one thing: Danny had come with him. Moving cross-country, loosing his dad and friends, coupled with going to college; it was all overwhelming. 'There are plenty of good schools here in California,' his father had tried arguing. Yes, California had good schools, but they weren't MIT and therefore not what he wanted. He missed his dad, Scott, Ms. McCall, everyone, Derek.

Their goodbye was a strange one. He hadn't expected a hug or anything more than a 'good luck' maybe even a 'be careful'. They weren't exactly best friends but, they weren't not friends. They had, after all, spent the majority of his time in High School saving each other from the other's stupidity. To be honest though, some very, large, giant part of him wanted a 'Don't go'. But he didn't get one, which was fine because he would have stayed if Derek had even implied it and spent another ten years fawning over someone who would never feel the same. There, of course, was no implication, just an awkward wave and a tiny smile from the driver's seat. He wouldn't call it indifferent—that made him feel strange—but maybe, no, indifferent was the only word which fit. He hadn't spoken to his family, excluding Danny, in over a year. 'Lydia is starting to think you've gotten a new, what's the word?' Danny turned to him, ''Beau' to replace her.' In some ways that was true, he'd married his work and school the first day he got there. At the time, though, he'd been too busy to really care and shrugged Danny off with 'I've got more important things to do right now.' Danny spoke to him less after that, choosing only to discuss school work and internships. Now and then again he'd mention Scott and the others, but those moments were few and far between.

It was during one of such discussions, actually, that Danny had flung a packaged box at him before running off to his own dorm. When he'd opened it, he'd found late Christmas and birthday presents with letters from everyone at home. He'd received a card for H&M from Lydia and six-page-letter reprimanding him for not contacting any of them. She'd written a page or two of complaints about the pack and the school she was in, Oxford, before adding in apologies for whatever it was she'd done to merit his silence. It was overall a very refreshing letter. Isaac had sent him about sixteen flash drives and a letter catching him up on everything. Boyd sent a card for Auto Zone, with a letter filling him in on all the things Isaac cleverly chose to leave out—mainly that Peter and his dad were competing for Ms. McCall's love and both failing. His father sent him clothes and boxes of Mac N' Cheese with 'Are you still alive', 'I love you' and 'Call please' written all over the wrapping. Peter sent him a beastiary, an old one that ran in the family, with a note that read 'So your dad will stop threatening to shoot me.' Scott had sent him twelve video games and a long letter asking a lot of questions he doesn't remember. He does remember, though, that it was signed 'Scott. P.S Derek misses you.' He didn't know how to feel about that, so he opened up Derek's present, the smallest of them all. It had the framed picture in it. A post-it was placed over the photo. It read: 'we all have a copy, thought you should too.' He'd propped it on his desk and left it there until now, when, in the midst of work, he found himself feeling empty without them. He set the photo down and picked up his cell phone, dialing a number he's afraid to admit he'd memorized.

He hears the breathing and laughter of a group of people on the other end of the line before, "Hello?" He can almost hear the confusion in the voice.

"I'm pretty sure we agreed no more answering Unknown Caller-IDs after, you know," he quips. There's a huff of a breath before a loud thud, the background noises are nothing more than a hum now.

"We also agreed we wouldn't use star sixty nine," a rustling of clothes before, "Everyone's worried about you." He nods, forgetting momentarily that he can't be scene, before moving over to his bed.

"Danny keeps them informed," he lets one leg hang off the bed and bends the other up.

"He could be lying to protect them," came the reply.

"You can tell when people lie."

"Your dad can't." Stiles sighs and leans back against the wall. His heart is beating irregularly and his hands are sweating, it's nothing new but he's not entirely used to it either. "Are you coming home for Spring Break?" Only if you want me to, he bites his lip to keep himself from saying it.

"I've got a big project," he says instead, "I don't think I can." Even as he says it, he knows it sounds like a lie. It is one. He doesn't have anything to do. He just doesn't want to look Derek in the face.

"Is that why you called me?" it sounds a little too bitter, "I'm the alpha so you think it's my job to deliver the news?" He opens his mouth to defend himself but somehow Derek knew he would, "Don't try and lie to me, you did the same thing for Christmas and New Years."

"That's not why I called you," He says sternly.

"Why?" He doesn't know why. Or he does but doesn't want to say. His eyes wander over to the photo, remembering Scott's note, 'Derek misses you.' It's a lie, has to be. If he was missed Derek would sound less angry, less indifferent.

"I-" There's a noise on the other end of the line.

"You're a terrible host," Peter's voice rings in his ears.

"I'm on the phone," Derek sighs. The door—he guesses it's the door—closes and there's shuffling.

"Is Lydia okay?" Peter asks seriously.

"She's fine."

"That's reassuring," Peter quips sarcastically, "Give me the phone." More shuffling.

"It's not her." Derek says finally. Disappointed doesn't begin to describe his tone. There's silence before the door—he's decided it's the door—opens again.

"Missing the game," Isaac pants. It sounds like a whisper over the line.

"I'll be right out." There's shuffling and the door closes again. "I have to go." His ear hurts from pressing his phone against it in order to hear the muffled voices in the background. The line stays quite but neither one of them hang up.

"I miss you," he whispers, but when he looks at his phone, he realizes Derek hung up just before he said it.