Stiles knew, logically, that what they were doing had to end at some point. There was absolutely no way that he could hold the attention of Derek-fucking-Hale, werewolf extraordinaire, for much longer than a couple of months. Hell, he was impressed that he even made it that far.
Here’s how it happened. After the Nogitsune, Scott basically told Stiles to fuck off. Not in so many words. Actually, not in any words at all, but in essence.
Stiles understood. If he had watched Scott murder the love of his life, he might need a little space too. The thing was, what Stiles needed was the opposite of space. He needed comfort from his best friend after what was undoubtedly the worst experience of his life, excluding having to bury his mom.
But Scott wasn’t there. And neither was Lydia, or Erica, or Boyd, or Isaac, or even Jackson whom he had grown weirdly close to. Not a single one of them.
He wasn’t completely alone, though. Derek was there, which- yeah. Nobody saw that coming, least of all Stiles, but he wasn’t going to complain. Not when the gorgeous guy he had been in love with for the past two years decided that he wanted to spend time with him.
At first, it was just hanging out. Derek would climb through Stile’s bedroom window and sit on his bed while Stiles did homework at his desk. They never really talked, but Stiles could feel Derek’s eyes on him. Sometimes he would take his Jeep to the loft and they would sit on Derek’s couch and watch a movie that Stiles picked out.
It wasn’t too long before those visits became a little less – PG. One night they were watching a movie on Derek’s couch, when Stiles started to doze off. When he woke up, the credits were rolling, and Derek’s hand was in his hair. Once again, it was unexpected, but not unwelcomed. Obviously, with his stupid werewolf hearing, he could hear that Stiles had woken up, and moved to take his hand out of his hair.
Stiles let out an accidental whine. He could feel the blush spreading from his cheeks down his neck, but when he moved to sit up from where he was laying on Derek’s shoulder, Derek held him back. He put his hand back in Stiles’ hair and started massaging his scalp.
Derek was just full of surprises.
“ You like that?” Derek asked, and Stiles had rarely ever been more mortified in his entire life. That was saying a lot, especially for him.
“Uhhh- yeah. Yeah, I do.”
At that point, Stiles had given up all hope of trying to pretend he wasn’t enjoying what was going on. Derek has super-senses anyway, he could probably smell how aroused Stiles was.
“ I can, by the way, and it’s very hot.” Fuck. Stiles really had to work on his brain-to-mouth filter, but that was for a later time.
“So, I guess now would be as good a time as any to tell you that I would love to suck your dick, huh?”
“Oh, fuck yeah.”
And then things had happened.
See, it wasn’t that Stiles regretted what had happened between them. Like, imagine being able to say that you lost your virginity to hotter-than-the-sun Derek Hale.
The thing was, he knew it didn’t mean anything to Derek.
The first time they had sex, Stiles had just barely come down from his mind-blowing orgasm in time to catch his clothes that Derek had thrown at him.
“Get dressed and get out, Isaac is coming over.”
Which-ok, Stiles understood why Derek didn’t want Isaac to walk in on them both naked and in bed, but why did he have to leave? Did Derek not want to be seen with him or something?
Over the next few months, Stiles found out that the answer to his question was unfortunately yes.
Any time they had sex, whether it was in Derek’s loft or Stiles’ bedroom, he would either make Stiles leave almost immediately after, or he would put on his clothes and fling himself out of Stiles’ window while Stiles was still in a post-orgasm daze.
It didn’t feel great when that happened, but hey, he was having sex with the man of his dreams, what did he have to complain about?
One time when they were just watching a movie, Derek heard Jackson’s Porsche pull up in the parking lot.
“Get out, quick,” Derek looked panicked.
“What? Why?” Stiles was concerned. Was something wrong?
“I don’t want Jackson to see you here, he’s gonna have questions.”
“Just get out! God, I see why Scott cut you off, let alone the fact that you killed his girlfriend!”
Stiles didn’t know what to say to that. He stood there for a moment, shocked, but eventually went over to grab his things from by the door. When he looked back to the couch, he thought he saw a hint of something on Derek’s face. Almost like regret, but why would he regret saying something that he meant?
As he pulled open the door, Jackson was raising his fist to knock.
“Stilinski? What are you doing here?”
Stiles Looked back at Derek, who was now looking at the ground.
“I was just giving Derek some of my research about- uh- harpies, I’m gonna head home now. See you around, Jackson,” he knew that Jackson could probably hear the lie in his heartbeat, but there was no way he would be able to deduce what was actually going on, so Stiles figured it didn’t matter.
He closed the door behind him, and when Jackson turned to face Derek, still sitting on the couch staring at the ground, he was even more confused than before.
“Why was Stilinski really here, and why did he look like he was about to cry?”
Derek shook his head and stood up.
“Do you want the wolf’s bane drops so you and Isaac can get drunk together, or not?”
So that was it.
Stiles had known he was never really Derek’s favorite person, but he thought fucking him might have put him a little bit in the werewolf’s favor. Apparently, he was wrong.
That happened almost a month ago.
Now, Stiles really had nobody.
Scott still wasn’t talking to him, and neither was the rest of the pack. Derek had basically called him an annoying murderer, and hadn’t reached out since. His dad, well he didn’t try to, but he was always at the station, and by the time he came home, Stiles had to be at school. When Stiles got home, he was gone again.
That lead to here, Stiles sitting in a bath that had passed luke-warm an hour ago and headed straight into freezing.
When he was with Derek, he had been able to forget all the horrible things that he had done when the Nogitsune had possessed him. No wonder nobody wanted to be around him, how could they trust him again after what they had seen him do? He couldn’t even trust himself.
Sometimes he had to pinch himself to make sure he was awake. Nobody was ever around to wonder where his bruises came from, and he covered them with long sleeves anyway.
Nobody was around to notice how much weight he had lost, either. He couldn’t bring himself to feel hungry. It wasn’t like he was trying to starve himself, but he couldn’t bare to eat when he knew he was the reason his pack would never be the same.
When he was around Derek, he could pretend that people still cared about him. Because even though Derek always walked away when they were done, he felt less alone when they were together.
Now, he didn’t just feel alone, he was alone.