Stiles woke up to a silent house, which was odd to him, because he hadn't been without the company of Scott or Derek in at least a day. And he hadn't seen his dad in about two days, which was a lot longer than usual.

Stiles swallowed his anxiety and forced himself to get out of bed, despite the desire to go back to sleep and never wake up again. His stomach growled when he stood up, so he went to the kitchen and made himself some pancakes. As the first batch was coming off the stove, there was a knock at the door. He called out, "Just a minute!" and rushed to get the next batch on. He adjusted the heat of the stove to low and answered the door.

He wiped his floury hands on his sweatpants and turned the knob, revealing Derek, who looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Derek! What's up?" asked Stiles, trying not to react to the dishevelled look of his boyfriend. "I'm making pancakes, if you'd like to come in."

Derek mustered up a smile, but Stiles could see he didn't really mean it. He pushed it aside, deciding to let Derek eat pancakes and be happy before asking what's up.

He flipped the second batch while dishing some of the first batch onto a plate for Derek. He slid it over to Derek, who smiled appreciatively and began to cut up his pancake. Stiles let silence fall while he cooked his batch, and once they were done he sat and began to eat his pancakes with gusto.

"So what's up?" asked Stiles, attempting to be casual. Derek froze, tensing up. He sat up straight and cleared his throat.

"What do you mean?" he asked. Stiles knew he was avoiding the topic, so he pressed on.

"As much as I love impromptu visits from my smoking hot boyfriend, I can't help but feel that there's an ulterior motive here," he said, turning to face Derek and grabbed his hands. "Did something happen yesterday?"

Derek sighed, giving Stiles' hands a squeeze. "It's about your dad," said Derek, inspecting his shoes.

He looked up and saw Stiles pale, heard his heart skip a beat. "W-what about my dad?" Stiles stammered, swallowing back the anxiety that was rising like bile in his throat.

"We found him," said Derek, and Stiles felt his throat cut off and tears spring to his eyes. "Alive, alive, he's alive. He was attacked by what looks like a wolf, but he's okay."

Stiles felt relief wash over him and let out a sigh before collapsing. Derek reached out and caught him, pulling Stiles into his arms. Stiles let out a sob, though his eyes were dry.

Derek rubbed circles onto his back and held him in place. Stiles pulled back, breathing deeply and trying to compose himself.

"How do you know?" he asked, closing his eyes to focus on his breathing.

"Chris Argent found your dad while he was out in the woods," said Derek, trying to come up with a believable lie. "He called an ambulance, and I ran into him later, and he told me to tell you your dad was stable."

Stiles frowned. "Why wouldn't the hospital contact me directly?" he asked, biting his lip.

"Scott mentioned to Melissa that you'd had a rough few days," lied Derek. "She decided that someone telling you face to face would be the better option."

Stiles nodded, digesting the information. "Can I see him?" he asked, worrying his teeth between his lips. Derek nodded. Stiles turned back to his pancakes and slowly ate the remainder. Once he was done, he placed the dishes in the sink and walked upstairs to get changed.

He slowly put on some jeans and a tee, not really paying any attention to what he was wearing. He put on his shoes and grabbed his keys, walking straight past Derek and out of the door. He walked to the jeep and got in, only stopping then to wait for Derek to finish locking up and join him in the Jeep.

As soon as Derek's seatbelt was fastened, Stiles took off. He took no notice of speed limits; they were just numbers to him. He didn't care about the law, not when his father was hospitalised.

He reached the hospital in minutes, hopping out as soon as the handbrake was secure. He left the keys in the car so that Derek could lock up. He pushed open the doors of the hospital and charged in, heading straight for the nurse's desk. Thankfully, Melissa was on duty, because Stiles wasn't sure he was capable of polite conversation.

"Melissa," he said, approaching the desk. She looked up from her charts and smiled, but it was the smile of sympathy that Stiles knew and loathed. "Where's my dad."

Melissa handed off her chart to another nurse and walked over to Stiles.

"Follow me."

He was led down a hallway and into a room about 50 metres from the front desk. He inhaled sharply at the site of his dad connected to so many wires and machines. It reminded him of when his mother was in hospital, slowly and painfully dying, growing weaker day by day.

He stumbled his way over to the visitor's chair and collapsed into it. He moved it forward so that he could reach his father's hand, which he encompassed with his own.

Derek walked in, halting at the doorway. "Should I go?" he asked, a concerned look on his face.

"If you want to," said Stiles. "I'm probably just going to sit here, so it's not going to be terribly exciting."

"Are you sure?" said Derek, walking over to Stiles and squatting beside his chair. "I can stay."

Stiles looked down at Derek. "No, I'm sure," said Stiles. "Go home and rest. You look like you could use it."

Derek nodded, standing. He kissed Stiles on the forehead before he left.

As soon as Derek left, he was in tears, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Dad, I'm s-so s-sorry," he choked out. "I know it was m-my fault. I've always known that it was my fault. I know I was the reason we couldn't get mom's tests. You don't think that's what I think about every minute? Because I do.

Whenever mom's anniversary comes around and you get all quiet and you drink more and you try to hide it, but I know. And when you're drunk, you try to conceal the hatred, I know, but you don't do it very well.

I resent myself most days for what happened. And I know I'm a stupid hyperactive teen, and I hate myself most days for not being able to sit still or focus in class. So if that's worth anything, I need you to tell me."

Stiles finished, bowing his head and sobbing onto his dad's hand.

He stayed there for another half hour, sitting in silence. He left after that. He couldn't stand hospitals, not after all that happened with his mom.

He got in the car and drove home, barely making it to his bed before sobs wracked his body. He pulled out his sleeping pills, popping a few before sliding under his covers.

Yo guys,

So I know this chapter wasn't my best, but I'm trying really hard to update every day (every day for me, anyway. I live in Australia, so our days are different to yours), so I just wanted to post something.
As always, reviews are encouraged, constructive criticisms are welcomed and thank you for reading