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“The wheels are turning in my mind/Don’t want to leave, but I might this time”
Stiles sat on the edge of the bed staring into space. Rather than the wall in front of him, he was watching scenes from the day before play over and over again in his mind.
~ Derek watched Stiles with the calm stare that he had come to appreciate in the seven years they had known each other. Stiles, however, couldn’t look at Derek with anything but panic. The hard-won poker face he had perfected through high-school to cover his tracks from his Sheriff father was shredded as soon as the gun was placed against Derek’s head.
Derek’s lips were sewed shut, and Stiles’ horror of what they knew was about to happen nearly gagged them both.
“Whatever you want, just don’t hurt him anymore,” Stiles said, unable to tear his gaze from Derek’s.
The Man holding the gun, the brother of someone Stiles had put in jail – he had followed in his father’s footsteps after all – was silent for a moment before chuckling. “Actually, I think I have exactly what I want. If you’ll just sit in that chair across from us, we can get started.”
Stiles stumbled into the chair. It was his gun being held against Derek’s head. He’d had to give it up to keep Derek’s neck from being broken. Somehow The Man had slipped wolfsbane into Derek.
The Man nodded to someone behind Stiles, and a small feminine face appeared before him. Her eyes were downcast as she tied rope around his wrists and torso. He vaguely remembered her being the girl he had bought a pie from earlier that day.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
The pie, Stiles realized. The wolfsbane had been in the pie. And he had fed a slice of the pie to Derek just hours before. Stiles’ hands clenched when he realized it was his fault.
Three hours later – after Derek had ripped through the stitches on across his mouth in order to scream and Stiles had rubbed his wrists so raw there were puddles of blood on the ground around his chair – Stiles’ fellow officers finally found them. The Man was apprehended, Derek and Stiles were rushed to the hospital, and, after he was taken care of and he knew Derek would be okay, Stiles was interrogated.
Condolences were given by everyone, but no one could look him in the eye. He was told to take some sick days, and he nodded mutely, his own eyes cast to the ground. ~
Over and over he remembered what happened and how he was incapable of stopping it. Even Derek, a werewolf and many times more powerful than he, was unable to do anything.
Stiles had realized when taking the job that he would be putting himself at risk. Derek had too. They had discussed it beforehand. Stiles had even, at some level, realized that Derek would also be in danger. But he hadn’t really thought it would ever happen, that he would ever have to watch someone tear into his boyfriend.
This was the way Derek found Stiles when he woke up.
“Boy, you’re gonna miss everything we had/If you let this train roll down these tracks”
“What’s wrong?” Derek asked groggily. The paramedics had tried to send him to the hospital, but Stiles’ friends on the force – they were werewolves or related to werewolves – had saved the two of them from the inevitable questions that would have arisen because of the healing abilities.
Said healing abilities were taking a toll on Derek, and he was sleeping a lot more and a lot heavier than usual.
Derek repeated Stiles’ name a few times before Stiles shook himself out of his memories.
“What was that?” he asked. His eyes were dark with guilt and pain. He reached his hand out to touch Derek’s face but snapped it back as if he had just realized what he was doing.
Derek blinked in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Derek sat up carefully. “Lie.” He covered his mate’s hand with his own. “What’s wrong?”
“I-“ Stiles carefully pulled his hand away without looking at Derek. He cleared his throat, and Derek was hit with the smell of unshed tears. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“What are you talking about?” Derek felt like curling into himself. Whatever was coming wasn’t good.
“Us.” Stiles waved a finger back and forth between them. “I don’t think we are a good idea.”
“Why not?” Derek’s hands fisted, his wolf not happy that someone – even Stiles – was threatening to take away his mate.
“Because we’re too dangerous together. To ourselves and to each other.” Stiles stood up and laced his hands together behind his back.
Derek, too, stood up but on the other side of the bed. He needed the space, and he thought Stiles did too. “How are we too dangerous to each other? Is this about yesterday?” he asked with a sudden dawn of understanding.
Stiles’ mouth tightened, and that was all the answer Derek needed.
“That wasn’t our fault! More specifically, it wasn’t YOUR fault!”
“Yes, it was. That Man was the brother of someone I had brought in. He targeted you because his sibling died in prison. A fight broke out and he cracked his head open against the walls in the cafeteria. He never woke up.”
“You looked it up?” Derek asked incredulously. “Are you that adamant that you need to feel guilt over this situation?!”
Stiles finally looked up at him. Well, more like glared at him. Stiles pursed his lips before speaking. “That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I will be leaving this afternoon.” He took a deep breath, the only sign Derek had seen so far that this was affecting him. “I’m going back to Beacon Hills. You can have this apartment, and I will send checks to help pay until you decide to move should you so do.”
Derek flinched hard. “Please don’t do this.”
Derek's begging almost tore Stiles apart.
“This has to happen.”
“Why?!”
Stiles took a step back. “Because –“
“Don’t give me that crap about us being dangerous to each other!”
“It’s not crap! It’s the truth!”
“When have we ever NOT been dangerous to each other?! I’m a goddam werewolf, Stiles! I could rip you to shreds in seconds! Weren’t you the one who told me we could get through that, that I would never be a danger to you?” Derek took a couple steps towards Stiles, anger permeating his body. They had worked so hard to get over their past hurdles, and now Stiles was throwing it all away because he was scared.
Stiles backed away, a hand held up to ward Derek off.
“Stop! I need to think!” Stiles cried out.
“Think about what?” Derek shouted. “Think about whether or not you love me? Whether or not I love you? Think about whether or not we’re worth fighting for? Whether or not I’m worth fighting for? What the hell do you need to think about?!”
Stiles floundered. “I don’t know. I just need to think.”
Derek scoffed. “You and your thinking. You’re always thinking! Feel for once, damn it!”
Stiles shook his head and took another unconscious step back. “No. I need to think.”
Derek stalked towards Stiles until Stiles was backed against the wall, until Derek was in his face and caging him in. “Do you know what I think? I think that if you can’t figure out the answers to these simple questions then maybe we should be done here.”
Stiles flinched like he’d been slapped, and Derek’s wolf howled in pain. He wanted to take it all back, but human Derek, angry Derek, just wanted someone else to hurt as much as he.
“Seconds from whispering good-bye”
Stiles’ heart was breaking, and it was his own damn fault. He had asked for this, had in fact pushed Derek just to get this very result.
He knew Derek hated when he relied solely on his brain for their relationship. So he had used that, hoping Derek would help push them apart. Because if Derek had asked, he would have crumbled. This was the only way he was certain he could keep Derek safe from the job he all too often brought home with him.
So now that he had made his bed, he was going to have to lie in it. And he hated it.
Derek’s sigh hit Stiles’ neck, making him shiver. It was wrong. But if he could get one last time, he would grab hold and use the memory to keep him going for the rest of his life.
So he ghosted his hand over the stubble on Derek’s face. Derek lifted his head and watched him before nodding minutely.
Their kiss was rough and harsh, filled with the pain of love lost and of anger. After a minute, it smoothed out into hunger and good-bye. They both knew this was their last time. They both knew they were using and being used, but at the moment they didn’t care.
Stiles carefully, lovingly stripped Derek bare, watching him with a quiet hunger Derek hadn’t seen since their first time together.
Stiles quickly removed his own clothes, and they tumbled into bed.
They made love for the last time, and, knowing this, they savored every minute.
Afterwards, they held each other tightly until they fell asleep.
“If all that’s left to do is walk away/Then baby I’m as gone as yesterday”
Stiles woke up at dawn just like he always did even without an alarm.
For the first few minutes, as he was waking up, he snuggled into Derek, a happy smile curving his mouth. But then he remembered what had happened two days ago; he remembered his decision to leave yesterday; he remembered the pain and anger he saw pass over Derek’s face; and he remembered the good-bye sex.
He pulled away carefully, hoping Derek wouldn't wake up before he left.
He wasn’t going to take much, and he’d already packed everything yesterday while Derek was sleeping heavily as his body recharged.
Stiles quietly dressed and grabbed his bags.
He stopped once before leaving the room, pausing in doubt. He looked back at Derek. Was this the right decision? Should he instead stay?
He shook his head. Derek would always be in danger if he stayed, and Stiles wouldn’t be able to handle it if Derek was hurt again because of him.
He left the apartment on silent feet, got in his car, and drove, tears streaming down his face. And in his wake, he left heartbreak.
“But if there’s something you still need to say/You need to say it now”
Derek watched Stiles walk grab his bags through almost closed eyelids. When Stiles looked back at him, Derek faked sleep again. His heart broke a little more with every step his boyfriend took until it shattered with the quiet closing of the front door to their apartment.
Derek cried himself back to sleep, and his last thought was that he hoped he could wake up and all of would just have been a nightmare.
“Hurry up and slow me down”