Stiles hadn't been back to the loft, their loft. He couldn't bear it; it couldn't be the same without Derek there with him.
Derek who had left, just gone without even a goodbye, and Stiles thought maybe he took the easy route. Perhaps a final meeting would have been more painful. A thunderous convergence of emotions that would have made them both just too darn tired, that would have left them in each others' arms for just one more night.
And that would have been one night too many.
Neither would have been strong enough to leave then. So perhaps it was for the best.
But when was the best ever good enough.
The best didn't stop Stiles from crying himself to sleep at night; painful small sobs wracking his body until he finally exhausted himself into sleep. The best didn't stop him from being angry with his homework, his teachers, life in general: Derek. The best didn't help him concentrate on his grades when all he can think about is whether or not his stupid boyfriend is even alive.
The best didn't stop him from remembering the nights they would spend wrapped in each others' embrace. It couldn't wipe away his feelings, his hopeless love, the shooting sparks he felt every time they touched.
Blinking back tears, Stiles fumbles for his key.
Why he was back here he couldn't say; it was like he was just being drawn back by some sadistic tug on his heartstrings.
Nothing had changed, it was exactly how they left it; open and bare, but theirs. A thick layer of dust had collected almost everywhere, and Stiles was glad that none of the pack had returned either, it made him feel like this was still their sanctuary, even when it technically never was.
Stiles smiled weakly as the Sun broke though the window. It was mesmerising, the cold, crisp November morning frost dancing though the rays like glitter.
A morning that was shattered by the door clattering open.
"Stiles!" It was barely a whisper by werewolf standards, but Stiles still heard it clear as day. He just stands there, not sure if what he thinks he's seeing is real.
Immeasurable seconds pass like days. Neither breathes for what seems like an eternity, then everything happens too quickly. The space between them disappears as they move, and all of a sudden they are within touching distance.
Derek's hand tentatively cups his face, as though he's making sure that Stiles isn't just a figment of his imagination tricking his senses.
Sparks fly and Stiles all but melts.
If someone asked him how he would react if he ever saw Derek again Stiles was sure that there would be far more punching and shouting involved. He was angry, he was upset, but none of that seemed to matter, not when Derek was right there.
They end up on the floor cradled in each other's embrace. Stiles is crying and it doesn't help that Derek gently wipes away his tears.
Between sobs he somehow manage to get a coherent sentence together,
"I thought I'd never see you again." I thought you'd left me. I thought you didn't love me anymore. "You never even said goodbye." Derek hugs him tighter, an arm curling around his waist the other running though his hair, and he sways them soothingly.
"I know, I'm sorry." I couldn't. It was too hard. I never wanted to leave you. I love you.
Stiles' heart is thumping in his chest, deafening to his own ears, and probably more to Derek's.
"Don't leave me again."
"I won't, I promise."
I love you.