Chapter Text
It’s when he’s walking home after the impromptu lacrosse match with Scott that the voice starts in again. Reminding him that no one looked for him after Gerard kidnapped him. That no one knew he was missing until he was back.
He tells the voice to shut up. Says if this is hell, he’ll do what the counselor said and keep going.
The voice wants to know ‘who said you’re allowed to leave’. Asks him if he really thinks anyone would notice if he disappears again.
Stiles tries to tell himself that the past was a mistake. His friends love him, they care, and if he ends up in trouble, they’ll rescue him.
He tries even harder to believe it when the alpha pack kidnaps him. Every kick to his ribs, every slice of a knife across his arms, Stiles grits his teeth and says nothing, trusting that his friends will find him in time.
Stiles is down to his last shred of hope when he hears the pack outside, attacking the alphas. He’s comforted. They found him. They were looking for him.
Then he hears Scott joking about how pissed Stiles is going to be that he missed out. They weren’t here for him. No one knew he was gone. No one knows he’s here. Hours go by before Derek and Isaac return, break through the doors to the cabin, find him in the back room, exhausted and unconscious.
He wakes up in the hospital, hears his friends yell at him for getting involved in the first place. Stiles doesn’t hear the fear in their voices at the thought of losing him.
~
He’s kept out of pack meetings after that. Told to stay home, assigned a bodyguard for a few weeks until the threat has fully passed.
They joke about being on Stiles’ duty instead of at training.
They don’t mind at all. Stiles is their friend. They love him. Want him safe.
Stiles doesn’t know that.
A little voice tells him he’s a burden. In the way. Wasting everyone’s time.
~
Stiles hears his dad crying one night. Considers going to sit with him. He makes it down the stairs but stops when he can hear his dad talking.
John does that sometimes. Talks out loud to his wife, tells her things. Stiles gets that. He used to do the same thing. But he hasn’t’ talked to his mom for a long time.
He hears his dad whisper that he misses her. Says sometimes it breaks his heart when he can see her in Stiles’ eyes.
Stiles goes back upstairs. Cries himself to sleep.
He doesn’t hear his dad continue that he doesn’t know if he could keep going without Stiles. That he’s the best memory anyone could have given him of his wife.
~
The next day he does his research. Finds an herbal recipe that won’t hurt. That will be peaceful. Like falling asleep.
~
Stiles stands by the staircase at Derek’s fixed house. He wasn’t called when the pack brought in the furniture. So he came at night. His eyes take in the carpet and paint, the way it has been redone to hide the past. There’s something wrong with this, he thinks. Like everyone’s trying to move on and no one wants to talk about the memories buried here.
“You can’t bury a ghost,” he whispers, but as usual, no one but a ghost would be listening anyway.
~
Derek is in Stiles’ bedroom. Kissing him. Marking him. It’s everything Stiles wouldn’t acknowledge that he wanted. Derek has Stiles against the wall, one knee between his legs, pressing against him like he can’t let go.
Stiles is daring, exploring Derek’s mouth with his tongue, moving against him, desperate for friction.
He whimpers Derek’s name.
Derek breaks away. “I can’t,” he says, breathing hard.
Stiles doesn’t care what it says about him. He reaches out, pulls Derek back to him, crushes their lips together.
Derek pushes him away, eyes alight with an emotion Stiles can’t read. “No, Stiles,” he growls. “I can’t. This isn’t right…You’re…”
Stiles doesn’t need him to finish that thought. You’re not right, not enough, not her. He’s not what Derek needs. Not what Derek wants. Not what anyone wants.
He doesn’t know what Derek’s trying to say. “You’re too good for me. I’m not right. You’re better than I could ever hope for.”
He doesn’t say anything when Derek climbs back out the window. Doesn’t move until he can hear the Alpha’s camaro start up. Then he lets his knees buckle and slides to the floor. He cries for a long time. Rocking back and forth, big shuddering tears. Stiles cries until his hoodie is soaked and the sleeves have been used as tissues too many times and finally, after several hours, he has nothing left to give.
Stiles doesn’t wonder if anyone will miss him anymore. He knows they won’t. The voice assures him. They don’t miss him now. Really he’s just permanently checking off a box on a chore chart.
No more assigning Stiles’ duty.
He thinks his dad will be sad for a little while. But he’ll move on. And a bitter little voice reminds Stiles that when he’s gone, when the thing with his mother’s eyes is dead, his dad might finally move past her death as well.
So clearly it’s for the best. He doesn’t belong anymore. He tries not to wonder if he ever did. That voice is there again. Pointing out that if he has to ask, he knows the answer.
Stiles is tired. Exhausted. No one notices when he’s there except to tell him to stop talking. No one notices when he disappears. What’s one more time?
~
He calls them first. Gets mostly voicemails. He wonders if his reason is spite, a last chance to lash out. He doesn’t think so though. Because every time he hears the rings, hears that the phone I son, his heart races a little faster. Wondering if this is when the phone is picked up. He only needs one person to answer. Even Jackson would be enough.
Stiles doesn’t leave messages. What would he say?
Scott answers. Stiles can’t help the spark of relief he feels. Scott says hi, listens to Stiles say he needs to talk to his best friend. Stiles tries to stay casual. Stiles listens as Scott says he’s at Allison’s and busy right now but he’ll try to find some bro time later in the week.
Stiles says something in return. He’s not really sure what. He can hear Lydia & Jackson in the background. Hears Lydia answer her phone this time, telling Boyd & Erica they can come over. His mind registers that this is a couples thing and probably not deliberately exclusive but it doesn’t help.
At some point Stiles hangs up the phone. You wanted the truth, says that voice.
He’s had the little vial ready for a while. There’s a reason he gets assigned research. The little mixture should work quickly. Stiles estimates maybe ten minutes to wait. He sits at his desk, swallows it down in a quick gulp.
After a few minutes he wonders if he should leave a note. That’s the normal thing to do, he remembers. Try to give an explanation.
Stiles can’t find the words though. He tries to tell Erica that he finally realized Catwoman never needed Batman as much as Batman needed her.
He wants to remind Lydia that she shouldn’t be upset. He knew when he told her that she was destined for greatness that he wasn’t meant to be a part of it.
He writes ‘when you kissed me, I realized I could have loved you, more than anyone is supposed to get to love someone else’ but he doesn’t really know how to finish that.
Stiles writes ‘I love you, Dad.’ Adds an ‘I’m sorry’.
He tries to think of what to write next. It needs more. The voice wants to know why he thinks it would matter. So he thinks better of the whole letter idea. Tears out the page, starts to crumple it in his hand.
Too much time has passed.
Stiles’ hand relaxes, he slumps forward, head falling on the desk.
The world disappears.
~
Stiles doesn’t see his dad walk into the room several hours later, intending to whisper goodnight to his son.
Doesn’t feel his dad shake him, plead with him, beg his lifeless body to come back.
He doesn’t see his dad collapse to the floor, Stiles in his arms, body wracked with sobs.
He can’t hear Derek’s howls of anguish when the call comes.
Stiles doesn’t see Scott pick a fight with Jackson, needing someone, anyone to lash out at.
Jackson lets Scott hit him. Welcomes it. He ignored the phone call too. He tells Scott to hit him harder.
It takes six lacrosse players, Coach Finstock, and Peter Hale to pull them apart. Neither boy can see straight through the tears.
He doesn’t see Erica destroy the bunker, throwing things at the wall and wishing the sounds of shattering glass and splintering wood could break the silence that threatens to overtake her.
He doesn’t see Isaac crawl into that freezer and shut the door, trying to find some way, any way, to punish himself.
Stiles doesn’t see the way Lydia and Allison cling to each other at the funeral, broken and unsure.
He doesn’t see his dad storm into Derek’s house after the funeral. The pack is gathered there. Silent. Wondering where they go from here. John Stilinski walks in, shoots Derek in the leg, screams you killed my son!
He doesn’t see a man desperate for someone to blame and another man grasping on to that guilt with everything he has left.
He throws the letter at Scott, tells him to read it out loud. Scott does. Stiles isn’t there to see the way it slices through the tenuous threads still holding them together.
Derek doesn’t move. Can’t move.
Stiles doesn’t hear his dad scream ‘he gave you everything and you let him disappear’ at the pack.
He doesn’t see his world fall apart when he’s not there to hold it together.
He doesn’t see any of it.
Stiles sees his mom. She doesn’t disappear.