Slow it down, take a breath and close your eyes
Hang on tight and don't look down.
Underneath it all, we're just the same, you and I,
So don't go telling me your fine.

Stiles had known that he wasn't fine, even if he'd smiled and told them that it was okay.

He'd wanted to yell at him, let him talk, cry it all out, but he'd been broken too and hadn't had the strength to hold him too.

I'll be the flowers that they place on your casket.
I'll be the love that we knew would never last, and
I'll be the moon when the last sun is setting.
I'll be for you.
I'll be for you.

And he wanted to tell him that he'll be all he needed, everything he ached for and thought he couldn't have if he stayed. Stiles wanted to tell him that if he didn't go, he'd be that for him. He just needed to wait a little. To wait for him.

So say the words "you're leaving and you won't come back"
At least I'm sure it can't get worse.
And when the last bit of hope has left you crawling alone,
I'm just someone you used to know.

But he hadn't. He'd just left without saying goodbye and leaving, him to face all his ghosts on his own, again.

For a while he'd hoped that he'd come back, but then as months went by that little hope had died away too.

And now, every time he dreamt of him, he hoped that he was happy and okay, wherever he was. And only wished he could tell him how much he'd cared for him. How much he would always care for him.

-
Drömmer om ljuset, På 10th avenue

Ensam i mörkret, Det är min tur nu
O här är jag vilsen, O 10th avenue
Ser genom fönstret , Du är lycklig nu

[Dreaming of the light, on 10th avenue
Alone in the darkness, it's my turn now.
And here I am lost, oh 10th avenue,
I see through the window, you are happy now.]

Stiles didn't know what he was doing here. He didn't even know the number or the name of his building. He just knew that it was on the Amsterdam Avenue, Manhattan in New York.

He had driven here on an impulse, because after his sudden text, asking how things were going, Stiles hadn't been able to shake the need to see him again. But he also hadn't found the courage to ask him if it was okay if he went to see him. Hadn't had the courage to ask for his address.

Maybe Derek just wanted to be it like this. To keep his distance and have as little contact as possible, and just to scratch the occasional itch to know if the people he left in Beacon Hills were okay.

Stiles had replied that everything was fine, and asked him how it was for him and Derek had answered just with,

10th Avenue is great.

So, Stiles, guessed that he was in New York. He didn't know if Cora was with him or if he was on his own. Maybe they were staying in the same apartment Derek used to share with Laura. But Stiles didn't know where that was either.

So, he walked and walked, pulling his hoodie over his head and shoving his cold hands in his front pockets.

Manhattan was so different from home. So many noises and so many people and smells. He thought how on earth Derek managed to live in a place like this with his heightened senses. Was Beacon Hills so bad that he'd prefer to stay on a place that overwhelmed his every sense?

He snorted. Of course it was.

Any place was better than Beacon Hills.

It did get better after the Dread Doctors though. Still. Stiles sighed. He knew it wasn't enough for Derek to want to come back.

"This is so stupid." He muttered to himself as he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, earning some angry remarks from someone. "What am I even doing here?"

He tried to swallow around the knot suddenly in his throat and blink away the tears as he looked up in search of stars. But there weren't any, because he was in Manhattan, and light pollution was definitely a thing here.

He lowered his gaze, then. And he honestly felt his heart stop for a moment.

He was there, in the building just across the street from Stiles, visible through the clear lit window.

He was moving around, a big smile on his face as he talked to someone else. Someone that Stiles, later recognized as Cora.

"Derek." A cloud of hot breath formed in front of him as he whispered the name he'd so many time mumbled in his sleep.

He wasn't sure, but maybe it meant something that right then, Derek looked up. And their eyes met.

A/N: THIS? WRITING THIS KILLED ME.