Slowly, one foot in front of the other, Stiles was moving.
He didn’t really remember making the choice to move, after picking up the library phone and calling the police, only to hang up again.
He knew this was bad—that it would look bad from every angle, so he grabbed his phone from Donovan’s body, and made his way out to his Jeep.
A policeman comes, checks the scene, and reports nothing out of the ordinary, all heard through the police scanner in Stiles’ Jeep.
But it was real. It had happened. The blood on Stiles’ hands proved that.
When he’s in the Jeep, thats when the reality of it all begins to sink in. Trembling hands reach for his phone, and his fingers act before his brain can catch up, dialing the only person he can think of.
The phone has been sitting there since he left. He kept it charged in case they ever reached out to him, but it never rang. He’d emailed once to say that he wasn’t coming back unless they need him to. But it never rang.
Derek got on with his life, starting a whole new one, basically. He wasn’t part of a pack, but was friendly enough with the local pack’s Alpha that he was welcome whenever he needed some contact. He had a job working in construction, keeping him busy and fit. He had a new phone, a new condo that he owned, but he still kept his old phone with his old number. But it never rang.
Startling slightly, Derek rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked around to his phone. It takes a second to realise that the ringing is coming from another source. His old phone. That’s enough to jolt him from his bed and running to the dresser where his phone had been laying silent for so long. He frowns when he sees the number and immediately flips it open.