I'm so sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I was ill, but now that I can finally function again, I'm back. I don't know if I really like the way this chapter came out, but I've tried to write it so many times that I'm just done with it. So, here it is.

Chapter 4

"The loneliest moment in someone's life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly."

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Stiles stood motionless in the spot Derek had left him until his legs finally refused to hold him up any longer, and he crumpled to the floor. What the fuck had he just done? His head was spinning, and it hurt to focus, but he had to. He had to figure out what had just happened. He lifted his hands up to his face and counted slowly. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Shit. This wasn't a dream; it was real. He'd really just tried to get Derek to sleep with him and thrown the deaths of everyone he'd ever loved in his face when he'd refused. As soon as that realization fully dawned on him, his gut clenched in disgust, and he found himself gagging over the toilet for the nth time this month.

He wished he could scream until his lungs gave out, wished he was a werewolf so he could use his claws to tear his abdomen to shreds. The guilt over what he had just done was suffocating him. He'd already felt enough weight on his chest from what he had done to Allison and Aiden and by extension Scott, Isaac, and Lydia.

But this was different. This was Derek. Derek, who had lost his first love, who had lost his family, who had lost the pack he had tried so hard to build, whose guilt Stiles understood better than any of the others could ever hope. Derek had been betrayed by everyone he'd ever put an ounce of trust in, and here Stiles was, adding to the list of people who caused him to suffer.

It was that fact that made Stiles once again question whether he ever did anything right and come up with a definitive answer. No. He was hurting everyone, all the people he had tried so desperately to protect were suffering because of him. It was abundantly clear to him that he was the problem. He tried so fucking hard to fix everything, but he only made things worse. Who was he kidding anyway? He was just a stupid, useless human running around with a bunch of werewolves. Did he really think he had anything to offer? Did he really think he was anything other than a burden?

And it was in that moment that something in his mind snapped. He couldn't live with himself anymore. Not when the guilt for everything he had done threatened to tear him apart itself. And since everybody else had refused to punish him, he'd just have to do it himself. He stumbled to his feet and stood in front of the bathroom mirror, letting out a hallow laugh as he caught sight of his reflection. He looked worse now than when he was possessed by the nogitsune. The circles under his eyes were so dark, they looked like they'd been painted on. His cheeks were sunken in, and his lips were cracked and bleeding.

He already looked dead as he reached for the medicine cabinet and grabbed every pill bottle he could find. He mind was too far gone to figure out what would be lethal, so he poured them all out onto the floor before picking up a handful. He swallowed pill after pill until he was incoherent, and then he simply laid down on the floor and waited to die.

He slipped out of consciousness, and as his eyes closed he saw his father's face wearing that expression that made Stiles' chest feel cold. It was the expression he wore every time he looked at Stiles for weeks after his mother died. He knew it was because he looked so much like her; he had her eyes. One night, after a few too many drinks, his father had told him so. The sheriff also told him how much he wished Stiles were gone too because he couldn't handle seeing his wife's eyes looking up at him every day. And Stiles agreed. It should have been him; he should have been the one to die, not his mother. And Stiles felt at peace because he was finally doing what he should have done from the start; he was dying.

But then the door to the bathroom opened, and he heard a voice calling his name as the world faded to black.

I wanna die without pain

I wanna die, oh, without pain

All this deception I just can't maintain

The sun, moon, the stars in the sky

It'd hurt me too bad if you said goodbye

Lies, lies, lies, ohh lies

The Black Keys, Lies

Well, that was a really sad chapter. I'm sorry if it's terribly written; the words just weren't coming to me. And don't worry, Stiles isn't dead, nor is he going to die later. This isn't a death fic, so just hold on.