"I mean can you believe her?" Stiles admonished after having retold the disaster of a meeting to Scott. He expected his best friend to be shocked and adequately indignant on his behalf. Instead, Scott just stared at him, his lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something but wasn't sure if he should. "Well?" Stiles urged.
"Well...I mean," Scott kind of shrugged, "it's totally a bitch thing to do, but…"
"But what?"
"But it is sort of Malia's thing don't you think?"
"What? No. This is totally out of left field," but even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true.
Still, it hit him harder than it probably should have when Scott felt the need to explain, "I'm just saying she's doing things like this since high school: insulting you and bringing you down. And you've always just gone along with her." Scott's voice was sad and oddly thoughtful. "I never said anything before because you never really seemed bothered by it. Figured you were just in love." He flushed in regret, realizing the fault in his silence all these years.
"I was," Stiles admitted. "I mean...I am." But Scott was looking at him with his puppy dog eyes, something akin to pity. Stiles hated it. It made his heart feel as heavy like a rock plummeting to the bottom of his gut. "I love Malia," he tried again, as if to convince more than just Scott.
"Maybe," Scott said, though he didn't sound like he agreed, "but maybe it's like a platonic love, you know? I mean, it's not like you two ever really had a healthy romantic relationship to begin with."
"Dude, what are you saying? Why are sharing these opinions just now?"
"I've shared them before! In the beginning, when you told me she snuck in your bedroom and forced herself on you, leaving behind those scratches on your back. But you got offended. Tried to say it wasn't anything you didn't want."
Stiles shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. Sure, Malia was a little rough around the edges and liked things a particular way and, yea, she could be a little domineering, but he wouldn't have considered their relationship unhealthy. Honestly, Stiles thought, things had been just fine between them up until he took her comments a little too seriously.
She probably hadn't even meant it the way it had sounded. Malia struggled with understanding the sensitivity of others; most likely she hadn't intended on placing the blame of the company's losing profits on the design de[artment. And even if she had meant it, it was only because she was passionate about her work. She had, afterall, continually tried to get Stiles to take his job more seriously, had tried to help him be better at what he did.
A soft hit to his shoulder knocked him out of his thoughts. "No." Scott commanded, his tone much more stern than Stiles was used to from him. "Don't do that. Don't try to rationalize her behavior towards you. You just admitted your love for her was past tense," he held up his hand again to stop from being interrupted. "You did. Call it a Fredian slip, but you did. Which means you need to accept that."
Stiles deflated. "Accept what exactly?"
"That you and Malia just aren't right for each other. That maybe it's time to move on."
As expected, Stiles wasn't too eager to go to work the next day. Less eager, in fact, than usual. Malia had tried to call him the night before, but he hadn't answered. He hadn't known what to say to her. Still didn't.
He knew what he should say, but he wasn't sure the words would leave his mouth when the situation presented itself. Stiles had been up all night, thinking about what Scott had said and he'd come to the unfortunate conclusion that he was right. What Stiles and Malia had was unhealthy. She had all the power, leaving Stiles gladly accepting whatever she was willing to give. Which hadn't been the best to begin with (though he had gone along with it because no one else had been offering him anything at all), but now that the realizations had been made, was now unacceptable.
He just didn't know how to explain that to Malia. A part of him was afraid she'd take it violently. Mostly though, he was afraid of hurting her. She had been the first girl - first person - to ever look at him like he was attractive and worth even an ounce of attention, to want to stand by his side and declare herself his and vice versa. They had spent years together, and while love may have faded, he still cared for her.
"Hey Stiles," Erika called his attention the moment he walked onto the design floor a couple of minutes late. "Mr. Hale wants to see you in his office. Something about the Triskelion file."
"Right. Okay. Thanks." Sluggishly, Stiles went to his desk to prepare the file, wondering what he had done now. As if he didn't have other pressing matters on his mind.
It wasn't long before the documents were being printed and Stiles was gathering them into a folder to the CEO's office. The door was barely ajar so he thought it acceptable to knock once before easing the door open further, catching Derrick at the tail end of a phone conversation. He smiled at the sight of Stiles as he set the cell phone on his orderly desk.
The smile had Stiles's gut twisting awkwardly, like a hundred fluttering wings beating furiously inside. Trying to ignore the sensation, he thrust the folder to Derrick. "The Triskelion file," he explained dumbly when Derrick rose a thick eyebrow in question.
Derrick laughed, opening the folder in wonder. "You created an actual file?"
Stiles blushed, lowered his gaze off to the side. "Well year, I just thought if someone ask I'd have evidence you know? Which i guess was silly of me now that I think about it. I mean, who would have stopped me? It's not like it would have been anyone's business. And no one around here pays any attention to anyone else." Stiles paused with the strong urge to smack himself. "Not that people here are…"
"I love it," Derrick stopped him from continuing, his crooked smile still in place. He was skimming through the papers, his eyes shinning in amusement. "Looks like their company is pretty loyal. 'I can honestly say that Wolf Security saved my life, literally'. Quite an endorsement." Something sad shone in his green-hazel eyes, but the smile remained. "Laura would have loved this."
Uncomfortably, Stiles shifted from one foot to the other. Everyone knew Derrick's older sister was a sore subject and Stiles wasn't sure how to continue forward. Instinct had him wanting to make an irrelevant joke to ease the tension, which he thankfully managed to control himself from doing.
Stiles didn't actually have to say anything. Derrick quickly shook himself out of the memory to say, "I wanted to assure you that the design department is not under review. I think the new products in the past year have been...great. I especially liked the plans for a taser that could be embedded in a bracelet."
Again, Stiles found himself blushing. "Um, thanks. It's too bad I screwed up its marketing attempt."
Derrick shook his head at the self-flaggation. "It's not your job to market. It's to design."
"Well, actually, as the junior member of the team, I don't design too often. I spend most of my time reviewing the others' designs." Actually, Stiles spent most of his time doing menial tasks but he didn't say that out loud. "Which is really fine with me. Reviewing designs is really a passion of mine. I mean…"
Derrick was studying him quietly, a small frown marring his once smiling expression.
Noticing this, Stiles forced himself to stop his rambling. He took a deep breath and tried to focus. "So is that why you called me up here? To tell me that the design department is okay? Because, and I don't mean to question you, don't you think you should have talked to Finstock instead? Or even Jackson or Erika. They do have seniority over me."
It might have just been his imagination, but Stiles thought he saw a tint of pink on Derrick's cheeks. He couldn't be positive since the blush was gone in an instant. He did seem a little unbalanced though, which Stiles thought was surprising.
"I also wanted to make sure you were alright. You seemed pretty upset yesterday."
"Yea, well you see how you feel when your girlfriend throws you under the proverbial bus."
An undefined emotion passed over Derrick's expression before flitting away. "Have you spoken to her about it yet?"
Stiles wasn't exactly sure if any of this was actually his boss's business, but Derrick looked sincere in his question. And maybe Stiles had gotten into the habit of admitting the truth to the guy. "Not yet. I'm a little scared about seeing her."
Suddenly, Derrick's sincerity became one of concern. He stepped closer to Stiles. On instinct, Stiles subconsciously stepped back. "Are you worried that she's going to hurt you?"
"More worried about hurting her." Derrick's brows furrowed. Sighing, Stiles found himself explaining, "After having a deep and thoughtful conversation with my best friend last night I've come to the conclusion that Malia and I just aren't right for each other. It's not just about yesterday either. I know she didn't mean anything by it and it really was a simple thing. But we want different things, you know?"
Derrick nodded as if he really did understand. "You did say that you thought you two didn't really love each other."
"What? No," Stiles denied. Him and Scott had only had this conversation last night.
"You did. On the plane."
"I did? I don't…I don't remember that." Except now that he was thinking back, he could kind of remember saying something like that. And maybe something along the lines about how the only reason he stayed is because he was afraid that no one else would ever really love him anyways. Man, Stiles grumbled internally, the embarrassment continues.
"Well, Derrick broke Stiles out of his thoughts, "if you need anyone to talk to afterwards, I'm here."
"Uh, yea, right." Stiles flushed. Awkwardly, he turned to leave. "Um, thanks." Derrick smiled and something inside Stiles fluttered again. "I'll uh, I'll keep that in mind. See you around."
