I'm afraid this chapter is not much happier…

The week had been awful for Stiles. He had moped and bitched and, when he was sure no one was watching, properly broken down and sobbed. He knew that it was probably ridiculous to be so upset, so crushed over a guy that he had known maybe 3 months, but he'd obviously gotten more attached than he had thought. Seeing Derek had become a highlight of his week and now he was dreading the coming Saturday, because best case scenario was Derek was not there, or his blinds were closed.

Worst case scenario was he acted like nothing happened. Completely ignored the fact he had killed Stiles inside. Like he didn't unintentionally toy with Stiles' pathetic useless heart and then toss it back to him when he was done. Oh no, wait, the worst scenario would be if that woman was still there. If he had to sit next to her, watch them cuddle and laugh and joke. Stiles isn't known for his rationality, hence his rather disturbing amount of possessiveness towards a man who had absolutely no romantic feelings for him, but he was pretty sure that if he had to stomach a lovey dovey make out session between the guy he liked and the guy's perfect girlfriend, he was going to punch something. Probably her. And his inner gentleman really wasn't all that cool with that.

And of course, all this inner angst took up a lot of his free time, hence the suffering school work, and eventually spilt onto the surface around Thursday, all messy and over the top, and Isaac, poor long suffering Isaac, finally stepped up to the plate and fulfilled his roommate duties. So that was how Stiles ended up at a bar at midnight on a Friday armed with a fake ID, drinking cheap beer till the world went fuzzy round the edges, then downing shots to top it off.

In the end it was around 4 in the morning when Isaac pulled Stiles back into their dorm room, bidding farewell to Erica and Boyd who were stumbling back down the hallway, laughing raucously and trying to remember where the hell they lived. By this point Stiles was way beyond hammered and dangerously close to the alcohol poisoning mark, so Isaac, who was only a little more sober, had to remove his shoes and socks for him, shuck off his jacket and pull a plastic bowl from a cupboard in case Stiles couldn't make it to the bathroom when he woke up and inevitably needed to throw up the copious amounts of alcohol he had inhaled in his grief.

He patted his friend's head as he mumbled sleepily about stubble and abs and stupid whores who steal soul mates, and, for about the 50th time that night, he cursed Derek Hale, whoever the fuck he was, for screwing over his friend. Sure Stiles was annoying sometimes, and yeah, he did not shut the hell up, I mean even now when he was asleep he was still content to go on muttering unsavoury things about the woman who stole what seemed to be the love of Stiles' life from the intensity of his grief, but he was a good guy, and he did not deserve the extra angst in his life.

But that was a subject for another day. A more sober day, because Isaac was fading fast and he wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere and sleep till the budding headache wore off. And his bed was so far away, all the way on the other side of the room. But Stiles' was right there and looking so warm and cozy and comfortable. And, fuck it, he figured he'd deal with it tomorrow.

With his though process ending there, Isaac climbed over Stiles' passed out body, sandwiched himself between the wall and Stiles' warmth, and began to doze off.

Obviously in their drunken states, neither had thought to close the blinds in their room, so Stiles was woken by some very insistent rays of sunlight scorching through his eyelids. And of course, because he had never been the most graceful of people, he instinctively flailed in an attempt to cover his eyes, and elbowed a snoring Isaac in the face.

'Dude, what was that for?'

Stiles ignored him in favour of searching his pockets for his mobile. Pulling it out he tapped out his password and stared blankly at the screen.

14:07

'Shit, shit, shitshitshit.' He babbled as he sprung out of bed. Then, because it was incredibly unwise to move quite so violently when hung over, he then proceeded to double over and throw up in the container Isaac had set out the night before.

'You alright man?' Isaac asked, snickering into Stiles' pillow and spreading himself out on the now roomier bed.

'I am so dead. Isaac it's ten past two. I was meant to be at work 5 hours ago. Oh, Finstock is going to kill me, and my dad is never going to buy me a car, and, oh god, Derek's going to think I'm avoiding him.'

'You are avoiding him. At least that was your plan last night.'

Stiles pulled the pillow out from under Isaac's face and hit him with it. When the one sided pillow fight stopped, Isaac rolled over and grinned at the scowl on Stiles' face.

'And anyway, your birthday is on Monday, this would have been your last week anyway. If your dad was going to get you a car for your 21st then he'd have already bought it for you. So seriously stop freaking out, you're fine. All you've succeeded in doing is preventing a very awkward conversation with a guy you are pretty much in love with. I feel it's a total win win.'

Stiles nodded slowly. It was true. It had been his last Saturday on the job, and he'd done all the others without fail so he could probably claim a sick day without any bother. And Isaac was right, avoiding Derek was probably for the best, after this they would never have to see each other again. Out of sight out of mind, and he could really do with having Derek out of mind for a little while at least. The pining just hurt.

It was probably all for the best anyway.

'Hey Stiles, you want to go to the diner across the street? I could really use cheesy chips to chase off this hang over, man my head is pounding.'

Patting his pocket to check his wallet was still there, Stiles nodded. Hot, black coffee sounded good. No hazelnut though. That phase was over.

He just wished it didn't hurt so much to see it go.

SxD

Derek sat on his couch staring out of the window, hope fading with each passing minute. He'd been sitting in the same spot for the past 2 hours, refusing to move in case he missed Stiles. He knew he would come eventually. He had to. So Derek waited.

Laura entered the room from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, and frowning sadly at her brother. Derek had asked her to make Mac and Cheese, the special way she always did, and her famous brownies, because he was certain that Stiles would love it. She hadn't had the heart to refuse, and she'd wanted to do everything she could to help right what she had inadvertently wronged. But that had been hours ago, and now it was almost five o'clock and the boy had yet to make an appearance.

'Derek?' He looked over to where she was standing.

'I don't think he's coming Derek. It's five o'clock. Maybe we should eat without him, the food's getting cold.'

Instead of answering he glanced at his watch, brows furrowing as he realised she was telling the truth and that Stiles probably wasn't coming. He stood slowly, dusting off his jeans, before turning swiftly and storming over to his bedroom door without a word. The resulting slam was enough to shake the entire building and Laura flinched, more out of sadness at the look of rejection on his face than the actual noise.

At a loss of what to do she went back into the kitchen, put the food into Tupperware containers after doling herself a portion, and then drifted towards the seat Derek had vacated and resuming his silent vigil.

Just in case Stiles came back.

This hurt me to write. I'm sorry, so sorry. Just bear with me a little longer please.