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I get back up on my feet, he falls back on his heels; My Stiles

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Stiles hasn’t seen the sun in almost three weeks.

 

He was stuck in a bubble of rage and depression and he couldn’t find a way out, so he let it consume him.

Every time he had left the house since the funeral he had been absorbed in the two emotions and struggled not to lash out at everything that resembled happiness. After taking a few walks he was forced to stop, almost screaming at a group of children as they played happily along the sidewalk. The trips to the farmers market causing his hands to tremble in fury as a pregnant mother laughed with a small child by her feet while her husband threw popcorn up to the sky only to catch it back in his mouth; the way she held her son’s hands by the tips of her fingers making him see red and storm in the other direction.

Scott had stopped by the first four days of his isolation, forcing him to the mall only to drag him out less than ten minutes later when he broke into a panic at the sight of a burger joint. He had screamed, heavy sobs pouring from his lips as his lungs caught on fire and his eyes screwed shut. He threw himself against his best friend’s chest in the parking-lot only to break away soon after and storm down the street; the bus ride home calming him down as the city disappeared and the bus station fifteen minutes from his loft brought itself to his view.

Derek had not returned to work since everything happened, staying at home and sleeping in the guest room since Stiles had kicked them out of their bedroom. He didn’t leave at first, trying to drag Stiles out of bed and into the shower every morning until the teenager slapped and physically lashed out at the werewolf. A couple more days after the abandonment of Scott he had packed up and moved into the room nextdoor. The boy had still woken up with a cup of milk next to his bed, breakfast on his dresser and a couple ibuprofen pills piled together on top of the bathroom counter.

He wanted to blame Derek for everything falling apart. He wanted to blame Derek and Scott and Malia and Melissa, he wanted to blame Theo and his dad. He wanted to blame his dad.

But he could only blame himself. He could only blame himself for the screaming into his pillow until his throat burned and his legs went numb from kicking. Bleeding knuckles and a pounding headache awoke him every morning and at first Derek tried to help but Stiles begged him to stop, begged him until the incident occurred and the alpha began standing quietly in the shadows. This was all his fault and he had no one else to call out for it. He was alone now and it was all by his doing.

God, he was just so exhausted. His body felt as if it was beginning to fail on him and even his skin trembled at the feeling of his own emotions. The world could no longer shelter and take in the miserable mess that is or was Stiles Stilinski.

 

He was sitting alone, legs crossed in front of him as he sat in the middle of his bed. The fingers of his left hand began picking at the strings peeling off his comforter, the comforter he needed to replace because of the new holes and stains littered across the material. They were also in need of new plates, the shards across the floor his doing along with the food stale and uneaten that got there by the constant throwing of the dishes. Luckily the cups replaced everyday were only plastic, laying in the dips of the carpet next to the walls with splattered milk painting over the dark colors of the paint itself.

The silence was almost pathetic.

Until the door opened.

 

Derek stuck his head in the large room, looking straight at the teen on the bed and softening his eyes in sympathy.

“Baby?”

The human didn’t respond, shifting his gaze down in order to avoid the anger bubbling in his chest. He was so angry.

“How about we take a quick shower and head out to the grocery store?”

The teenager shook his head viciously, hands tightening in the sheets until his knuckles turned white. His eyelids burned at the pressure behind them and he only groaned in annoyance as the voice spoke again, a small repetition of his name filling the room.

“Leave me alone.”
“I’ve given you more than enough space, Stiles. It’s time to get up.”

Shooting to his feet he threw the blanket aside harshly, stomping to the door and almost growling in anger as he slammed the door shut harshly in the Wolf’s face.

Without a flinch the older man simply reopened it, watching the back of the boy in front of him as he stopped his steps and tensed.

“It’s time to talk to me.”
“I don’t need to do shit to you! Go away, Derek!”
Jumping back in the bed he turned his gaze back to his feet, trying not to run over and begin screaming. The rush of emotion almost made him dizzy, feelings making his heart heavier and heavier by the minute.

“No, not for me. For yourself. It’s time to get up and start letting me in.”
Stepping forward he let the door close behind him, watching his step before looking up just in time to see a fresh new plate flying across the room. He heard it shatter behind him and looked at the boy with heartache and regret.

He regretted the fact that he let it get this far, that he couldn’t save the sheriff and keep the hurt from entering his mates heart. He felt as though he let them down and unfortunately put them in this situation.

 

“Get the hell out of my room, Derek.”

The fast pace of the heart across from him caused him to take another step forward.

“I’m not leaving you.”
“Leave!”
“No!”
His voice raised, causing Stiles to flinch back, heart stammering just a fraction before he swung his hands around and ran toward the werewolf. He began his assault, swinging at Derek’s chest only for hands to wrap tightly around his own. The older man held tightly as the body shot back and forth, screaming and fighting away as he was lifted up and held against the wall.

“Shh, I know it hurts, Stiles. I know it hurts but you have to calm down, calm down and breathe for me, baby.”

He let his hands raise the boy’s chin, his own gaze meeting the wide-heartbroken orbs in front of him. Tears strolled down Stiles’ cheeks as he fell limp in exhaustion and Derek lowered his feet to the floor, the head in front of him falling softly onto his chest while shaking back and forth in denial.

“I wanna die, Derek.”

“No you don’t, it’s just a rough patch-”
“I miss my dad.”

The sobs did nothing to calm either of their breaths, Derek catching the teen as he fell into his arms and clutched to his t-shirt. Stiles could only clutch back, stuffing his face into his alpha’s neck and letting his heart finally open up.

“You have me, Stiles. You will never lose me.”
“I hit you, Derek,” he stuttered, gaze locking immediately as he trembled and let guilt flood through their senses, “I hit you and threw things at you! I should be kicked out, I should be arrested! You should break up with me-”
His thoughts were blurred again, the disappointment in his dad’s eyes showing in his mind as his eyes slipped closed.

“Look at me.”

He shook his head, refusing.

“Please look at me.”

With a soft sigh he lifted up for what felt like the hundredth time, tears immediately wiped away as he finally let Derek speak.

“You still have me and I love you as much as I did the day I met you, if not even more.”

“Der..”
“I love you, Mieczysław Stilinski. And I am never going to leave you.”

 

They must have sat there for a while, sun going down behind them as the blinds stayed open. Stiles had calmed down enough to force himself up and walk around Derek to start picking up the things on the floor. When Derek attempted to help he simply held out a hand, silently begging to let him do it himself and giving his wolf a small smile.

After cleaning they took a quick shower and headed toward the guest room, returning Derek’s things to the bedroom and sitting on the mattress when finished.

“Do you want one more night to yourself, Stiles?”
“No, I um, I wanted- If you wanted to come back-”
“Of course I’ll come back, Stiles, I’ll be here whenever you need me to be.”
“Why aren’t you mad at me?”
“Because I know you didn’t mean anything that you did, it wasn’t you.”
“But it was, God, I was so angry. I wanted to hit you, Der and god forbid you hit me and I flip out-”
“I would never lay my hand on you-”
“Then why is it okay for me? Because i’m human?”
“Because you’re suffering. No it doesn’t make it okay in civil terms, but when I first met you and was mourning over my sister I did a lot of stupid things to you. We do things in mourning that we would never do with a clear mind and that's when we forgive. I love you, Stiles, and you know that.”
“I love you too, and I’m sorry.”
Derek kissed his forehead, intertwining their hands and giving his boyfriend a soft smile as he began to stand.

“Do you want leftovers?”
“I’m not hungry..”
At the look he froze, “for leftovers?”
The older man nodded, liking the answer and dragging Stiles down the hall.

“I’ll make you some of the fries from the freezer, go lay on the couch and put on a movie.”
“Blankets?”
“Already there, go ahead and get comfortable.”

 

After getting settled and eating dinner, the two simply cuddled, watching the second Avengers and holding each other tighter than usual. Derek refused to let Stiles off his chest, growling softly to get that familiar rumble in his chest when he was distressed or anxious, and turning down the volume when one of them needed to speak.

And if later that night, as they laid together in bed, Derek held him as he sobbed more of his sorrows out into the pillow, well they never had to discuss it. The nightmares didn’t return and Derek never left.

They were getting back to recovery and that’s all they needed for now.