Hello everyone!
So this is my second fic for this fandom. I was listening to the song Still Here by Digital Daggers and this came up. I'm sorry. I just had to get it out of my head. If you want to listen to the song while you read this, I'd tell you it's a good idea.
Disclaimer: I don't own the show or its characters.
Warnings: hallucinations, couple of f-words here and there.
Enjoy!
Derek's been gone for months and Stiles has missed him every one of them. More like every single day if he wanted to be more accurate. He never tried to look for him. He knew he'd come back when he was ready.
He knew he had his reasons for taking off and they were perfectly understandable. This place was poison for him. It held every memory of every heart-shattering thing that has ever happened to him. For him it held pain, anguish, guilt, loneliness. Stiles would like to think that they've made some good memories as well, though. For him they had, and he was trying to hold onto them tightly. He didn't let them fade away. He couldn't even if he wanted to. The feelings he felt for the man wouldn't let him. They reminded him of his absence every possible moment, either he was awake or not.
But that changed. The absence that is.
It was a night homework had kicked his ass once again and his procrastination was a perfect accomplice to it. Once he finished, he didn't even consider mind-numbing Internet surfing or researching about the supernatural that had become his life. He just shut down his laptop and went to bed, barely even remembering to put on his pajamas.
At some point during the night, he felt the bed dip behind him, and that totally made him alert. But then an arm wrapped around his waist and as the hand touched his own, he recognized it. He knew that hand. He had stared at it many times discreetly. He had imagined countless more how it would feel holding it in his own. The warmth that settled along the back of his body only confirmed his hope. He turned around in the arms he had been waiting for so long, barely opening his eyes, only a shape of a face visible, and mumbled sleepily, "Der'k?"
The comforter was wrapped tighter around him as Derek said, "Go to sleep, Stiles. I'm here."
Stiles had never slept so peacefully before.
Next morning he woke up alone, Derek's side of the bed was already cold. Still, a grin took over his face and he had a jump in his step that day.
Scott noticed his friend's happiness right away and decided to reply to it with a blinding smile of his own. "Hey, what's up?!"
But Stiles hesitated. Yes, he felt better. Better than he had felt in months. But he wanted to keep it in for a while longer, keep Derek for himself for as long as he could. If Derek wanted the others to know he was back, he could tell them himself. For now Stiles was going to enjoy every moment he had alone with Derek for as long as he could. "Nothing. It's a beautiful day though, isn't it?!"
It wasn't. It was cold and gloomy. But Stiles didn't care. And apparently neither did Scott if it meant his best friend was happy.
That night Derek showed up again. He climbed in through the window, but Stiles never saw him. He blamed his stealth and grace in the damn werewolf powers. Honestly, he never made a sound. But Stiles suspected that was because the damn wolf enjoyed giving him a heart attack. Or maybe it was his flailing that almost always ended with him on the floor.
"Jesus Christ! Do you live for scaring me?!" Stiles said with a hand over his frantically beating heart. Derek didn't say anything. He just smirked that sexy smirk that made his face even sexier. Okay, so his brain broke at the sight of it. So what? Stiles just rolled his eyes at his lack of speech and said pointing at the room behind him while turning back to his desk, "Make yourself at home or whatever, just let me finish this problem first." Derek only shrugged in response and Stiles went back to his homework. He had to finish this fast. He had time with Derek to spend.
"So how come you're back?" Stiles said once he finished, turning around in his chair and playing with a pen in his hand. "Not that I don't like you being here and all, but you were gone for quite some time dude."
"I thought it was time," he said looking at Stiles as if his words had a double meaning and he was urging Stiles to read between the lines. But Stiles didn't know what there was to read into that. Instead he looked as if he was deep in thought, biting his lip. It looked as if he was contemplating something. "What is it?"
Stiles wanted to ask about last night, about sleeping in the same bed like that, but he didn't dare to. Whatever it was, he wanted it to happen again. Maybe admitting it would push Derek away. That was not a viable choice.
"Just spit it out."
"Nothing!" he answered fast. This time thankfully, his brain-to-mouth filter worked for once. Before Derek demanded Stiles to talk again, he came up with a question to distract him, "Hey, what's your favorite color?" The werewolf merely raised an eyebrow at the change of topic, but he didn't comment on it. "No, no, no, no! Don' tell me!" Stiles said, stopping him with his words and hands. "Let me guess."
Derek didn't speak. He let Stiles' eyes look at him from head to toe, considering his physique as he tried to find the right color.
"Purple?" he said a moment later with a fake-innocent look on his face.
Derek couldn't help the snort that came out of him at that. He shook his head fondly at the young man with a grin on his face as if he was amazed by how Stiles' brain worked.
Well, maybe he was and he spent the rest of the night testing it.
Scott looked at his friend the next day and frowned. The happiness wasn't particularly gone, but the noticeable circles under his eyes said a different story. "What's wrong, dude?"
"Nothing. Just tired," he smiled a true tired smile and Scott didn't think anything of it. If there was something wrong, Stiles would talk to him at his own time. He always did.
Days passed by in a blur. With Derek next to him every night time moved faster and Stiles was elated. But every morning he woke up alone, the bed cold, and every time it stung a little more. It got to the point that Stiles doubted Derek was back. He was there, sure, but maybe it was temporary. Maybe he wasn't back home. Maybe he was just passing through. That hurt more than he cared to admit.
"Okay, you've been tired for days, man. What's up?" Scott asked as he plopped down on the seat next to his best friend at school. Said best friend looked almost emotionless and exclusively doodling nothings on his notebook.
"Nothing," Stiles sighed. Maybe it was time he told Scott about the late night visits. Actually, Stiles knew for a fact his best friend's involvement would give him something else to think about. "It's just, Derek came into my room last night and we started talking. Man, I know I've said he needs to learn how to use words, but dude, I wasn't even aware he knew that many!" he tried to joke about it, with an empty grin, using his tiredness as an excuse for his current state.
"Wait, you saw Derek?" Scott looked at him confused. Stiles guessed he really hadn't seen him. "Yeah," he said, like 'duh!'.
Scott frowned at him, "Stiles, Derek's gone. He left months ago."
"I know," Stiles looked at him incredulously, as if Scott had grown two heads over night. "He came back."
"When?" Scott still looked confused. He didn't get it. If Derek was back, where was he?
"Uh, a week ago?" Stiles said annoyed. "What's with all the questions?"
"Nothing," Scott shrugged. "It's just… If he's back, why hasn't he said anything to the rest of us?"
Stiles didn't know the answer to that. He had been wondering the same thing, but just figured that maybe Derek didn't want the others to know. Or maybe he wasn't ready for the others to know. Whatever. He shrugged, "Don't know. I'll ask him if he drops by again tonight."
Scott didn't doubt he would, but then again, he sniffed Stiles discreetly and there was no sign of Derek. Not even a lingering last drop of his odor on Stiles. He didn't tell him that.
That night Derek came by late. By the time he slipped in through the window, Stiles was already asleep. He had tried to stay awake waiting for him, but when the clock ticked 3 am, he gave up. He thought that Derek wouldn't show up tonight. It was okay. Whatever. Yeah, it took him another hour to fall asleep, but a while later Derek was there wrapping him in his arms.
It was worth it.
Next day, Stiles woke up to an empty bed. He sighed and searched across the sheets for some warmth he knew he wouldn't find. That didn't stop him from looking for it though. The bed was cold, too cold. It was as if Derek was never there. An exhausted sigh escaped his lips, one that he felt to his core. Stiles was tired of waking up in an empty bed.
Later at school Scott found him at his locker. His best friend wasn't there for the first two periods of classes and Stiles was ready to ask where the hell had he been when Scott beat him to it. "Stiles, Derek's not here. He never came back."
He looked at him confused, not really understanding Scott's thought process. Or his insistence that Derek wasn't in Beacon Hills. "What are you talking about? I just talked to him yesterday. Like literally yesterday," he said moving his hands along as he talked like he always did.
Scott looked at him seriously and hesitated. But he spoke. "I checked, Stiles."
Now Stiles was getting pissed. Why wouldn't Scott believe him he saw Derek?! Why would he need to check it out? Wasn't his words enough?! Wasn't his happiness?! What exactly gave Scott the right to say that?! He turned to him and crossed his arms on his chest defensively, "You checked where Scott? Huh?"
Scott didn't waver at his friend's stance. Instead, he kept pushing, trying to get Stiles to understand. After Derek left Stiles hadn't been fine. Actually it took him weeks to laugh again. Something was going on and Scott wanted to help him. "I went by his loft. It's empty and his scent is not there anymore."
"That's because he sleeps in my bed, okay?" he almost yelled. He turned to his locker and got whatever books he wanted for the next class. "Happy now?!"
"And where is he now?" Scott pressed, trying to make him understand. What was worse was that when Stiles talked about Derek being here, his heart didn't skip a bit. He was telling the truth. Or what he believed was the truth, because Derek wasn't back, he knew it. He would have been able to feel another werewolf's presence, he would have caught his scent as he ran around in Beacon Hills and the forest this morning. Derek didn't come back.
"How should I know, Scott?!" Stiles snapped at him angrily. "Forgive me, I didn't think to put a tracking chip on him. God, what's gotten into you?!" he said and turned around to leave. But Scott's arm on his own stopped him from going anywhere. So he looked at his friend extremely pissed off already and waited for whatever stupid thing was going to come out of his mouth next.
Scott tried one last time, "Don't you think he would have gone to his loft at least once if he was back?"
"He is back." He didn't stay there any longer. Stiles didn't know why Derek hadn't visited his loft yet. But he knew he was back. He had spent all those nights with him. He had felt the warmth against his body when Derek slid into the bed during late nights visits that Stiles had already been asleep for. Why he hadn't made a public appearance yet, he didn't know. Where he went every morning he left before Stiles woke up, he didn't know that either. Maybe he would ask Derek next time he saw him.
Yeah, he definitely would.
That night Derek came in his room while Stiles was pointlessly surfing the internet. He spun his chair around and suddenly Derek was there sitting on the edge of his bed. Stiles only slightly jumped this time. He got used to it after so many days of him showing up at night. "Well, look what the cat dragged in. Or should I say the dog? Wait. You dragged yourself in so can I say the dog dragged you in? How is it applied in this situation? I think I just confused myself," Stiles rambled.
He could see how much Derek tried to resist the urge he had to roll his eyes at him. He kept him impassive face as he said, "Stiles."
"Sourwolf," Stiles said back. "Once again in my humble abode, I see. What's up?"
Derek only shrugged in response and Stiles could see this was going to be a long night. Derek wasn't that talkative this time around. The silence stretched enough between them, that Stiles couldn't help but break it. "Hey, uh," he started nervously, "Can I ask you something?" Of course Derek didn't say anything, but Stiles would dare say that the werewolf was looking at him expectantly. "Are you back?"
He raised an eyebrow at that, as if he was saying 'What does it look like?'. Stiles rolled his eyes at him, "I know you're here now, but that's not what I meant. I meant – are you back home?" he put emphasis on the words both with his tone and hands to get his point across.
Derek tensed at that and that only confirmed what Stiles feared. He let out a humorless laugh, "Of course you're not. Why would you be anyway?"
"Stiles," Derek sighed.
"No, don't." Stiles said not looking at him. It hurt. It hurt that Derek wasn't back for good, that maybe he never intended to be back for good. It hurt more than he'd like Derek to know, so he masked his pain with anger. "Whatever you have to say, don't. Okay? Got it. Roger that. Message received. Whatever. Can you go now?" He said angrily turning away from him.
Derek got up and suddenly he was standing behind him, "Stiles, you know I can't stay." Again his tone implied a double meaning, but Stiles didn't get it. He was too busy getting angrier at the moment.
"Why can't you?! Huh?!" he yelled as he got up to face him. "Why the heck can't you stay put for once and live your life?! Why do you have to pretend to be a freaking nomad?! Why do you have to be gone every time I wake up, huh?! Why?!" He shouted at him.
Derek looked almost sad at that, and pity. There was pity in his expression. "You know why."
He knew. That was the part that hurt the most. He knew why Derek left every chance he got. He knew why Derek couldn't stay in Beacon Hills and he now knew why Derek left every morning. Because this wasn't permanent. It was temporary and he couldn't let either of them think otherwise. He turned around, opting to look at the wall instead of Derek. The fight drained out of him. "Get out."
"Stiles," Derek said stepping closer to him.
Stiles didn't let him. He grabbed the first thing he found on his desk and threw it past Derek's head as he screamed at him, "Get the fuck out Derek!"
Derek didn't stay. He walked towards the window instead. Stiles couldn't bear to watch him walk away knowing that he was the one that asked him to, so he turned to the wall again. He heard Derek say something though. "Red."
"Am I supposed to know what you're referring to?" His voice sounded croaked. It was as if he had been crying for hours and only spoke now for the first time after that. He didn't turn around this time either.
"My favorite color. Red." Again with that damn tone, that there was a double meaning hidden in his words, as if he was waiting for Stiles to catch up with it. Stiles didn't. If there was something he wanted to say, he had a perfectly sculpted mouth to say it.
Just like that Derek was gone.
And his father appeared at the door concerned a second later, "Son, are you alright?"
Stiles sighed as he looked at him. His father didn't know about Derek. And since Derek wasn't here to stay, there was no reason to know about him. "Yeah, I'm fine, dad."
"You sure? Because I heard yelling and screaming." He looked at him all calculatingly.
"Yeah, I just got pissed at my laptop," Stiles lied right away. His father didn't seem to buy it. But he let it go. He just nodded at him and said goodnight before he left for bed.
That was the first night Derek didn't sleep next to him. That was the first night that Stiles' nightmares came back full-force.
Next day at school he didn't even try to pretend he was okay. There were dark circles under his eyes, his skin was pale from lack of sleep, and his nightmares stayed close to his consciousness. Thankfully, Scott didn't question him. One look at him and he only said, "Let me guess. Derek?"
Stiles didn't even have to nod in response. Scott was trying to be supportive, he'd give him that, even if he didn't really believe him.
That night Derek didn't show up. Stiles was restless though. He had so many questions he didn't know where to start. First, why did Derek come back if he wasn't there to stay?
Stiles, Derek's not here. He never came back.
Why didn't he tell the others about it? Why only Stiles? They were never particularly close. Yeah, there was an understanding between them and Stiles harbored feelings for the man he knew were dangerous, but they weren't close. So, why him?
Stiles, Derek's gone. He left months ago.
Why didn't he go by the loft? If Scott was right, why? Where was he spending the time he wasn't with Stiles? Where did he go?
I went by his loft. It's empty and his scent is not there anymore.
Where was he now?
His loft.
Scott was wrong. He must have been. Even if he wasn't that was the only place left for him to go to. That was the only place he would sleep in except for Stiles' bed. What if Scott was right?
What if Derek never came back?
He needed to know if he was there or if this was a cruel dream or if this was… no, he didn't go there. What his mother had… no. Nope. Not going there. This would all turn out okay. You'll see. He's going to be there and he is going to ask him everything. He is tired of waking up in an empty cold bed. He is tired of wondering. He is tired of doubting everything he's ever went through.
It took him barely ten minutes to get to the loft and another one to climb the stairs to the right door. He stopped and listened. There was no sounds coming from inside. Maybe Derek was asleep.
Derek's gone.
No. He was going to be there. He opened the door with such force that it rattled against its hinges and he looked in.
No.
No, this couldn't be right. This was wrong.
His mind must be playing tricks on him.
He stepped inside and looked around. Nothing had changed since the last time he was here. It was empty. The smell was suffocating. The several layers of dust settled on every single surface was the sign that no human being or other had stepped foot in this place. Derek never came here.
He never came at all.
That was it, wasn't it?
The realization hit him like a punch in the gut, only with a hundred times more force. It made his knees weak, his head swim in clarity and confusion at the same time, his body give up on him, and his heart constrict painfully in his chest. He landed on the step just inside the entrance of the loft, with a puff of dust blowing around him at that.
He…
Had he been dreaming of it all?
That wasn't right. His dad had heard his screaming much with Derek. Or maybe it wasn't with Derek. It was with himself.
He knew the truth now. The real truth. Derek didn't show up at night. Stiles' mind did that. He did that. Derek wasn't coming back.
Not now. Not ever.
Stiles was not okay. He hasn't been for months. He should have known. He should have known how broken he was. The signs had been there.
The pain was suddenly suffocating, his head was spinning trying to figure out what was real and what wasn't. Was whatever happened with Scott real?
His dad hearing him screaming, was that real?
He didn't know what was what anymore and the tears he hadn't let fall yesterday, fell now on their own accord. He was scared. He was terrified of his own mind.
Maybe what happened with Scott was true, because hours later – and he knew it was hours because darkness had settled in the room now – he came by and found him in the same position he had been in when he came in here. Maybe. He didn't really know. What was real anyway?
He felt him sit next to him and lay a hand on his shoulder in comfort. But there was no comfort for this. How could there be? "He never came back, did he?"
"I'm sorry."
A moment of silence passed and then, "I need help, Scott," Stiles said.
Scott squeezed his shoulder in acknowledgement, "It's going to be fine. Everything's going to be okay."
Somehow, Stiles was reluctant to believe that.
So, yeah. That happened. Hope you liked it?
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Thank you for reading!