Sterek with #40. bonus points for angst~ <3
| 40. exes meeting again after not speaking for years au - BECAUSE YOU HATE MEEEEE. this is gonna hurt. |
That’s the first thing he can possibly think, the only thing, upon seeing Derek fucking Hale edging awkwardly through the door. He hovers in the background, giving off a grumpy, glowering aura just like he used to, black jacket rumpled and shirt collar just slightly off kilter. Not like Stiles is any more put together, he’s a total mess, but seeing Derek looking just faintly off is just freaking great.
Not that anyone is looking any better. Scott is pale and wan, Kira sniffling quietly, Lydia keeping on a brave face but her hands are trembling and she keeps grabbing at Jackson’s to keep them still. Even fucking Isaac is here, hunkering down into his stupid fucking scarf. Everyone who is or ever has been in Beacon Hills is making an appearance, it seems like. Paying their respects.
Stiles can’t even bring himself to appreciate it. He’s still just angry, pissed off at the world at the senselessness of it all. And the fact that after all these years, Derek Hale has decided to waltz back in like he has any right to be here—
Okay, maybe he does. Maybe he did decide to go on the straight and narrow, non-werewolf-centric path in life, deputy-ing for the sheriff’s department. Maybe he worked closely with the man who’s now lying in a closed coffin at the front of the room, before he moved away to start his own life - maybe, maybe he deserves to come back just to be polite, now that his one-time mentor is…
Stiles doesn’t even like to think about it, still. It’s settled into his bones, yeah, but he hates it. A heart attack, of all things, after so many years of his trying to help out, trying to make sure his dad ate healthy, didn’t slip back into bad habits. After everything, it wasn’t some criminal with a quick trigger finger or a supernatural mishap. It was just fucking nature being out to get him.
He grits his teeth and turns his eyes away.
Stiles looks haggard. Derek can’t blame him; he’s lost the one bit of family he had left, suddenly, without warning. He’s skinnier than ever, a patchy scruff of beard sprinkled over his jawline, eyes hollower and more empty than when the Nogitsune had possessed him, hair a mess from fingers constantly raking through it. Derek remembers how he used to fidget whenever he got nervous or anxious or angry, so he knows the look, he’s just not used to it being so… pronounced.
He understands. When the call came, it was all he could do not to punch a hole through something. It’s not at all fair, but he learned a long time ago that the world isn’t fair.
He learned it when Kate used him, when his family died. He learned it when his pack was taken from him. He learned it when he lost what power he had. And he learned it when he’d lost Stiles.
The memories come back the second he sees him. Before he’d moved away, before he’d had to run; visits to the messy dorm room Stiles had called home, touches exchanged in quick passing moments at the station. Late nights and early mornings. He hasn’t thought about any of it for years, but his heart hurts seeing the boy all grown up with his own life, and having such a large part of it taken away.
He came back to pay his respects; he didn’t expect to end up so focused in the lines that have formed at the corners of Stiles’ mouth, testament to the passage of time. He didn’t expect to feel like he’s been hit with a brick yet again, not just the death striking him, but another, different loss.
Eight years since Stiles graduated school and he decided things weren’t working out. Eight years since Derek packed up and left town. Eight years since they’ve exchanged a glance, or a word, or a touch.
Eight years, and Stiles won’t look at him.
Not that Derek can blame him at all.
| ahahaha and now i’m sad i’m gon’ go die now. |
