You used to dream yourself away each night
To places that you'd never been
On wings made of wishes
That you whispered to yourself

He almost failed his Modern English & Composition class because of a girl. It was the dumbest, most cliché thing he swore to himself would never happen. But it did. Derek Anthony Hale spent most of 11 AM-1 PM of his Mondays and Wednesdays staring at a pretty little girl three rows in front of him.

"Little" was probably a bad word choice, though. She was gorgeous, with clear brown eyes and cotton candy, lavender hair. Her thighs were deliciously thick and her waist was curved inward in an attractive way. Her teeth were a little crooked and her nose was spotted with a million and one freckles. She was beautiful and the first time he laid eyes on her he knew he was ultimately fucked.

She was pre-med, hoping to find a career in pediatrics. Her yummy hair would probably make all the kids smile, even with a needle shoved three inches into their delicate arms. Derek had listened in on a few of her conversations when she walked into class with the hyperactive monstrosity that was Stiles Stilinski. He was always bouncing around her, adding to her calmly aura. The way she smiled softly at her companion was enough to make Derek's belly grow warm with admiration. He probably would have punched the little shit a month ago if he was in her position. Even when Stiles was annoying and blabbing off topic, she always found a way to mention how he'd make a wonderful desk clerk at a children's clinic. "Then we can be friends forever, Ms. I Wanna Treat Annoying Brats For A Living!"

It was cute, actually. Really cute.

But the reason he watched her wasn't because she was pretty or kind. It was because when he'd look at her in the middle of a lecture or a slideshow, he'd find her sitting in her seat with her chin on her fist and her eyes gazing out of a window. She was always daydreaming, with a soft curve to her lips, like she had this amazing little secret on her tongue and it was brimming at the seam of her lips, ready to spill over.

Once, he'd caught her humming to herself in the library, late at night, with her hair up in a bun and a large t-shirt over a pair of Superman leggings and old boots. She'd had a medical book propped open on her lap and a giant purse on the table, spilling open with candy and soda. The melody on her throat was delicate and soft, with a deep undertone of sadness that sounded perfect and happy on her vocal chords.

He'd been stupid enough to stare at her until eventually, she looked up and stared back. She'd smiled and waved him over, humming a little louder as he came closer. Cautious. When he'd found himself sitting in front of her, she'd introduced herself as she placed a can of Vanilla Coke in his hand. "I'm Rhea, we have English together. You stare at me during lectures."

Derek ended up having to retake the class online during his summer break, where there wasn't a pretty girl named Rhea, daydreaming out a window three rows in front of him.

Back when every night the moon and you
Would sweep away to places
That you knew
Where you would never get the blues

He fell in love with her three months into his sophomore year, two semesters after he'd taken her offer of carbonated sugar in a can. Her hair was no longer cotton candy, lavender, but a chalky, white blonde with corn-yellow streaks. Her soft waves framed her pretty, pink cheeks that were always plump with a soft smile. Derek had pretty much memorized every inch of her face, by then.

They were in her dorm, where Stiles and her roommate, Lydia, were reading Ernest Hemingway novels and watching Brat Pack movies – respectively. Stiles had somehow founded the perfect coffee to Adderall ratio to counteract his ADHD. He was thirty pages through The Old Man and the Sea in two hours, which was surprisingly well for Stiles!

Derek was sitting with his back against the headboard, Rhea sitting on his lap with the side of her thigh pressed against his belly. She had a human anatomy book on her lap, opened to a page with a very descriptive drawing of a penis.

"Look, that's the scrotum! Oh, and there's the testes…Do you know you have gonads?" She laughed, busting her stomach as Lydia rolled her perfectly brown-rimmed eyes. The strawberry-blonde sat up and snarled. "Don't look at me like that, Dia. You were laughing yesterday."

"Yeah," she snapped. "Yesterday, I was laughing. Today, I'm not."

Derek smirked, patting his girlfriend's back as she stuck her tongue out. He rubbed the exposed skin there, happy she'd worn her sports bra all day in hopes of going to the gym. She never did, anyway. He placed his other hand on her creamy calf, pressing his thumb into the spot behind her knee. She giggled, poking his nose in response.

She leaned against him, "Mmm, come outside with me?"

"Sure," he murmured, standing up as Rhea slid off of him. Stiles screamed in relief, "Thank you, Jesus, they're leaving!" As Derek walked out the door with Rhea, he lifted a finger behind him without looking back. He found pleasure in the defeated sigh that came from her friend.

Derek had no idea why he was standing on the roof, freezing in the October air of New York as his girlfriend dance on the ledge of the roof in shorts and a sports bra. She didn't shiver, but her skin was covered in goosepimples. He found himself wanting to run his hands over her skin until his heated skin melted them back into soft, creamy flesh.

She was looking at the moon, smiling. "I love this view. All you can see down below is dumpsters and assholes getting laid behind the bushes, but the moon is perfect, here. It's always so full, even when it's not."

He came up behind her, his shadowed breath fanning over her knees as she basked in the moon's light. Her hair was glowing, sparking a heat in Derek's groin. She was just so beautiful. And his, god, she was his. And he was so happy about that. He'd never been so excited to drink a can of Vanilla Coke in his life.

This beautiful, glorious woman was his and he was hers and he just couldn't entirely wrap his head around that fact. But he was more than happy to wrap himself around her.

His arms encircled her legs, causing her to shiver against him as he placed his chapped lips on the back of her thighs. She sighed in content. "This is where I'm happy," she whispered. He turned her around, helping her to sit down on the ledge so that he could press his hips between her legs and rub his cold head into her freezing breasts. He hummed approval as her fingers carded through his hair. "Can you do me a favor, Derek?"

He kissed her collarbone, softly nipping at her skin. "Anything, I'll do anything…"

Rhea's hands slid under his shirt, her skin warming up as they pressed against his heated muscles. He moaned as her lips slipped over his ear, "Keep me happy, here? I don't want any sadness when I'm with you. Especially here."

He nodded, kissing her hard and filthy and soft and sweet all at once. Her sighs on his lips were enough to make him weep with love and arousal. Her long fingers on his hard shoulders grounded him, even when he was twenty million miles up in the air with whatever level of aggression he'd felt that day.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Thank you."

She groaned, he gasped. She was happy, he was healed. They were perfect. No one was sad. There was no sadness, there.

Well now, whiskey gives you wings
To carry each one of your dreams
And the moon does not belong to you
But I believe that your heart keeps young dreams

"Rhea, please get off the ledge."

"No…"

"Rhea! Please, get down from there before you hurt yourself."

She screamed, her blue hair flying in the warm wind behind her. The moon was gone, hiding behind clouds of black. "I'm already hurt!" There was a bottle of amber liquid dangling in her hand and her breath stunk of depression and hatred. "Don't you get that? I'm already hurt, I've already hurt myself…"

Derek choked on his breath, pleading as she teetered for a half second. "No, Rhea, I don't care. I know you're upset, but you can't do this."

Rhea scoffed, turning to face him. "Like I give a shit?"

"I do," he said, softly. "I give a shit. I give plenty of those. All of them for you."

Rhea shook her head, crying as a cold breeze forced a giant shake from her shoulders. "It's not the same, Derek…I miss her." He came closer, forcing a step back from Rhea. She was so close to that edge. "I miss having her inside me…I miss my baby."

Derek cried, then, eyes watering with salt and sadness and anger. "I miss her, too. You're not the o-only one that-t lost he-er. Anna was my baby, too."

"But I carried her!" Rhea took a giant swig from the bottle, tipping her head back as she swallowed the burning liquid into her empty stomach. She coughed, removing the bottle from her mouth. "She grew inside of me…I nourished her inside of me and I felt every inch of her in my belly. And she died inside of me. They cut her out of me until there was nothing left of her!"

Derek broke down, falling to his knees until his palms were planted flat on the concrete and his chest heaved with sobs. He screamed. His throat was raw with every ounce of rage he released. He'd never felt so wrong in his life, standing here in their happiness as it crumbled into this ugly pit of hate and tears and anguish. When he finished screaming, he cried on his back, watching the clouds break as the moon revealed itself. Rhea stood over him, the whiskey gone as she wiped her drunk tears from her cheeks.

She sat next to him, grasping his hand tightly in hers. He body shook with gasps and ugly sobs as she calmed herself. Her words were slightly slurred as she pressed her body against his. "I just wanna jump from here and fly to where she is." She pressed her face into his chest. "She's waiting for me, baby. Anna's just waiting for me to hold her. I just wanna hold my little girl…"

Derek cried more than Rhea that night. She'd cried for two months after Annabelle Elizabeth Hale was miscarried halfway through their junior year. Derek didn't cry at all, preferring to be strong for the woman he loved. But, tonight? Tonight, Derek cried until he felt nothing. And then he cried some more.

Rhea let him.

Well, I've been told
To keep from growing old
And a heart that has been broken
Will be stronger when it mends

Rhea knocked on Derek's dorm room. They hadn't spoken in months. She hadn't tried. He'd asked for space and she'd given it. But she missed him. And today was their first day back for their senior year. She wanted to start fresh with him, get to learn every inch of his skin anew like she'd met him for the first time.

She didn't bother dying her hair again. The blue faded, leaving her hair in a more natural, ash-blonde with a slight blue tint at the ends. She'd worn eyeliner, too, for the first time in her life. She'd asked Lydia to teach her. Ms. Martin was an exceptional makeup talent. It was a miracle, really, that her best friend was able to teach her such difficult things so late in life. Rhea's mind, these days, were really only focused on science and med school.

When Derek opened the door, Rhea smiled nervously, her slightly crooked teeth glinting bright and white as his eyes took her in. She was wearing his cardigan and a pair of torn skinny jeans from the thrift store that were a size too big in her legs. The waves of her hair were thrown over one shoulder, leaving her neck exposed. His eyes immediately landed on the red skin there, raised with white ink in the shape of a name in Derek's handwriting.

Anna

"Hi," she croaked. "How was your summer?"

He shrugged, averting his eyes to the wall behind her. "It was normal. Stiles found out I lived outside of his city. He stalked me a lot."

She chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, that sounds like him."

"Yours?"

"Pretty plain. Lydia taught me how to do my own makeup…" She pointed to her face, blinking her dark, suddenly full lashes against her pale cheeks.

Derek scratched the back of his neck, "Yeah, you look nice, by the way. Really, you do. Beautiful…You got a tattoo?"

Her hand immediately covered the white ink on the side of her neck. She gasped, using her other hand to pull her hair over it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to see that."

"No, it's okay," he said softly. He reached over, moving her hair so that it didn't cover her permanent memory. His thumb smoothed the skin under it, feeling every bump and raised line of the white name. He suddenly wrapped his arms around her, breathing in her scent as she slowly wrapped her arms around his back. His warm skin filled her palms and she sighed. "I missed you."

She cried, suddenly, burying her tears into the fabric of his black shirt. She scrunched the fabric in her hands as he pulled her inside, closing the door behind them. He sat her on the bed between his legs and rocked her, whispering in her ear as she openly sobbed. "I miss you, Derek. I miss you so much."

"I know," he replied. "I love you."

She cried harder, "Thank you."

Don't let the blues stop you singing
Darling, you've only got a broken wing
Hey, you just hang on to my rainbow
Hang on to my rainbow
Hang onto my rainbow sleeves…

She was humming again, soft and warm, happiness with a deep undertone of sadness. He hasn't heard it since the week before Anna, where she sat on his bed and rubbed her belly. Derek's face was buried in her hipbone, nipping the soft flesh there occasionally. He had a hand pressed over her belly, where the scar sat just above her pubic bone, below her belly. His other traced around a naked nipple. Her ankle was caught between his thighs and a hand was buried in his hair

"What is that," he asked.

She stopped humming, looking down at him. "What?"

"That song," he said. "You're always humming it. What is it?"

She smiled, "Rainbow Sleeves by Rickie Lee Jones. My dad sang it to my mother a lot. It was her favorite."

Derek rubbed his beard into her hip, "I'm sorry. I know you miss her. I know you miss, Anna, too."

She nodded, "Yeah, I do. But I love you enough to forget about the sadness."

He sat up, covering her body with his. His lips found hers and suddenly, everything was perfect. Everything was better.

Derek failed his Advanced Functions II test that morning, because he never made it out of bed. He ended up having to retake that class as well in the summer, online, where there was a pretty girl next to him, putting a baby to sleep in the crib next to their bed. She was humming. He was happy.