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They always say that you never know what the future holds, and Stiles thinks whoever those people are, well, they’re right. He wishes more than anything that they aren’t though. In another universe, maybe Stiles is happy. Maybe he’s not walking through the path in the woods alone. Maybe he’s being happily twirled around by Derek Hale who just wants to dance with Stiles and be silly. Maybe Derek shows up, declares his undying love, and Stiles gets his happy ending.
After everything they’ve been through, Stiles hadn’t expected to end up here. He can still remember the way Derek’s hand feels in his, the way his face would light up in amusement at Stiles’ aimless ramblings. Stiles can still feel the echo of his pounding heart when Derek pulled him in close and spontaneously danced with him over by that tree there. Stiles looks at the tree with mixed emotions. Their initials are carved into it. A heart with jagged edges is below the sharp “S + D” and it jerks Stiles’ mind back into time.
God, Derek had been so happy that day. Stiles remembers how Derek had excitedly announced that he’d gotten into writer’s college. They made so many plans that day, so many promises.
“Will we live together when we go to college, Derek?”
“I don’t think we’re ready for that big step.”
“Think we should get a place close to each other, though?”
“Hell, I want one three floors below yours.”
Turns out it’s quite easy to avoid someone even if you live three floors apart. Scott helped Stiles avoid Derek though. He’d bump into Derek, casually ask about his week, and let Stiles know. It had become a system, because Stiles couldn’t see Derek—even from a distance—without holing himself up in his bedroom for a week. He forgot how to live.
It hurts, living without someone who laughs at all of his stupid jokes (Scott’s laugh isn’t the same), who share secrets on drunken late-night walks back to their building (Lydia lectures him in the nicest way), and someone to remind you that not all is lost (Allison’s been great at lifting his spirits, but they always fall again). He remembers how drunk on happiness he’d been, even during the rough patches.
Stiles’ fingers run across the letters on the tree. Derek had been so determined to carve them, but he’d sucked. Stiles had pushed him aside, taking the rock from his hands, and finished it. How it’s still here, only a little faded, three years later, stuns Stiles.
Derek had danced with him that day. There hadn’t been any music but the birds in the trees and their breathing. It had been amazing. It had been a moment that Stiles wanted to tell his kids about, pass the story onto his grand kids. The way Derek had laughed, so freely, so unlike himself. Stiles can’t remember ever being that happy.
They’d stumbled, Stiles’ back hitting against the freshly carved tree. Derek had stilled then and said, “I want a future with you.”
Stiles hadn’t laughed, even though his body wanted him too. Instead, he’d lifted a hand from Derek’s shoulder and put it on his cheek. Stiles had nodded and murmured, “Me too. More than anything—hah, ‘more than anyone on earth, and I like you better than everything in the sky’.”
“Did you just quote your favourite poem to me?” Derek had asked his voice thick with emotion.
Stiles had nodded. Then they had been kissing. He can remember what it had felt like, slowly losing a piece of clothing here and there, still being pushed against the tree. They had moved with tender care that day. Usually they were fast and hard, but that day is Stiles’ favourite memory of having sex.
He feels his chest grow heavy and moves away from the tree. It’s never easy coming back here, to this town. Stiles avoids it when he can, but his father’s grown tired of visiting him in the city. He likes when Stiles is home, says that he feels better, as though Stiles had never left. The guilt brings Stiles home more than he would like.
He continues walking down the path, knowing that Derek would never be this sentimental. He’s not even sure that Derek had been in love with him. Maybe it had been the naive idea of finding your soul mate at seventeen. Stiles hates that he doubts it. He should know better. He should trust that.
Derek’s love had been there every time he’d looked at Stiles, in his voice when he said, “Stiles, you’re an idiot”, and the way he’d quietly join Stiles on bad days. Stiles knows deep down each time they had seen one another, Derek would be casually touching Stiles in a way that no one else could. His fingertips would drag up Stiles’ arm, giving him goose bumps, and Derek would tease him for being so sensitive. It was usually followed by a kiss.
Derek had loved him. Stiles had loved Derek. It shouldn’t have ended this way. Only two and a half years ago marks the day that Stiles had woken up to a scribbled note on the nightstand. Derek couldn’t do this anymore. He wrote that they were done—all of it.
Stiles is never sure if he’s been mourning the loss of the love or the lost of his best friend. He had relied on Scott, Lydia, Allison, and Jackson too much. He’d been weak though, and couldn’t stand on his own. Stiles had started crying in the corner store because he’d seen Derek’s stupid horoscope calendar. Stiles had teased him endlessly, and Derek had always claimed it had been a gag gift from Cora because he never believed in that shit. Jackson had helped him out of the store that day. Hadn’t cracked a joke or made a dig.
That’s how pathetic Stiles had become. Jackson had been nice to him.
Stiles had thrown himself into school. He had gotten honours because he’d spent the nights he would have cried himself to sleep studying for exams that were months away. He had chased professors to learn why he lost two marks on essays, had hung out in the library enough that they offered him a position that hadn’t existed before, and had held four different study groups a week. Anything to forget.
His friends stopped codling him after a certain point, and Stiles had been torn about that. While he had been grateful that Jackson started being a dick again, his feelings, his heartbreak, hadn’t gone away. He’d just stopped talking about it.
He glances around, wondering where Derek is now. Stiles had seen that he’d published a book. He’d hit Best Seller within three weeks. Stiles had been proud, and he’d wanted to call Derek up to say his congratulations. He hadn’t.
Derek’s a different person now. There’s no way he isn’t. Stiles kicks a rock ahead of him and sighs. He wonders if Derek still laughs at lame jokes, or puts too much ketchup on his macaroni and cheese. Maybe Derek had become serious again, as he’d been when Stiles had met him, grown out of that habit of the mountain of ketchup. Maybe Derek lies now, or maybe he’s cut his hair recently. He could have switched to a new religion and Stiles wouldn’t know.
It haunts his thoughts sometimes. He doesn’t know Derek, doesn’t know who he’s become. Stiles wants to, desperately.
He sits down on their rock, the one they shared their first kiss on. And, he thinks with regret, their last. Stiles wonders if Derek thinks about their last kiss. How they’d gone home that night, hadn’t touched each other before bed. Stiles wonders if Derek had known then, known that it would be their last.
Stiles still doesn’t know why they had broken up, why Derek had left him. Stiles admits that he can’t put all of the blame onto Derek. He’d never given Derek a reason to stay, never given him a reason to fight for Stiles. That would’ve required Stiles to have told Derek how madly in love with him. He had been clear about his crush but nothing more.
Their relationship hadn’t had an easy start, but it’d been passionate. Stiles remembers with a smirk how he’d started to bug Derek. The guy had been quiet, and Stiles had been attracted to him like a moth to a flame. Derek had grumbled at Stiles, brushing him off every chance he got. Then one day, Stiles had said something. He can’t even remember the specifics of it, but he knows that it had set Derek off.
Stiles had been so amused; he hadn’t even had a chance to be angry. Of course, that had only infuriated Derek more. After that, things had gotten interesting. They would bicker, and yet hang out. They would argue for the sake of arguing, and then they’d have meaningful conversations. They had started to go on non-dates that really should’ve been dates—a fact that Stiles had pointed out after the twelfth one.
“We keep going on these non-dates that really should be dates.”
Derek had responded with, “Took you long enough.”
After that, their relationship had become intense. It had been fast and hot, with some soft moments here and there. Derek had become one of Stiles’ best friends, and he’d started to rely on him in ways that he had never done with anyone else.
Stiles remembers their first official date. Derek had been an adorable bundle of nerves, but Stiles had been worse. God, he hadn’t been able to believe that he’d managed to get a date with Derek Hale.
“Derek Hale, Scott. Do you understand? I have a date with Derek. Hale.”
“Yes, Stiles, I understand. I’ve been listening to you talk about it for the past four days. Whatcha wearing?”
“Oh my god, what do I have to wear?”
“Don’t wear plaid—Lydia would kill you.”
“I’ll have to get my outfit Lydia Approved. Fuck, Scott, I don’t have time to go shopping!”
“We’ll figure it out. Derek will like you in anything.”
“Scott, you’re the best. And I’m screwed—Derek is so out of my league.”
Stiles shakes his head. Scott had been great.
He decides he’s tortured himself enough, and pushes away from the rock. Stiles turns to head back down the path, only to freeze.
Derek stands there, looking a little more worn than he had two and a half years ago. He’s matured in his looks, but Stiles’ gut feels the tug that had always drawn him to Derek, the silent rope that tied them together.
“Hi.”
Holy fucking shit.
“Uh.” Wow, that’s smooth, Stilinski. How is Derek here right now though?
Derek rubs his hand on his neck in a familiar fashion. Somewhere in the back of Stiles’ mind he recognizes it as a typical Derek move, and he knows. It hasn’t gone away. The thing that held them so close together for so long is still there.
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Derek admits after a beat. Stiles nods, accepting that. “I come here sometimes.”
“Me too. When I’m home,” Stiles says. Great conversation skills, he thinks. Ironic, considering he had always been able to talk to Derek with ease. Now, the one time he wishes he could, he can’t.
“Yeah,” Derek says.
“I didn’t think you would ever come here.”
“Why?” he asks. “Because I was never as open about my feelings as you?”
Stiles snorts. “I never knew you to be sentimental.”
“People change,” Derek answers.
He nods. The beat of silence between them is thick. “Have you been well?”
“Yeah,” Derek says. “And yourself?”
“Never better,” Stiles tells him.
“That’s...great,” Derek says.
There’s nothing more to say, or so it seems.
Stiles rubs his hands together, and glances around. They had spent so much time here.
This is where Stiles had known he’d fallen in love with him.
They’d been lying in the grass, the sun beaming down there. Derek had reached out, grabbed Stiles’ hand, and nuzzled into his neck. He’d rolled onto Stiles, who’d started to laugh.
“Get off! You’re crushing me! I can’t—Derek—breathing—”
Derek had laughed, and put more pressure onto Stiles’ body. “But it’s fun!”
Stiles had stopped squirming then. He’d craned his neck to see Derek prop himself up and looking down at Stiles. Derek had lifted one finger up and booped his nose. That’s when Stiles had known.
It hit him like a ton of bricks. Stiles had booped Derek’s nose back, only to have Derek laugh. “Stiles, you’re the cutest thing.”
He’d just watched Derek laugh, lying there on top of him, crushing part of his side, and wondering if life could always stay like this.
It couldn’t.
He’d learned that the hard way.
Stiles blurts, “I lied.”
Derek’s eyebrows come together. “What?”
“I have been better.”
“You have? I’m—”
“I was better with you,” Stiles says. The words he’d carefully planned in his mind go out the window. He can’t seem to remember how he wanted to tell Derek he was an asshole for leaving. Hadn’t he wanted to tell Derek that he shouldn’t have left him in a note? That he should’ve talked to him like a mature adult? Stiles doesn’t say that though. “Derek—”
“I shouldn’t have left.”
How long had imagined hearing those words? They had haunted his dreams. Derek would say them, Stiles would yell, and they’d be okay. The words don’t hold the same power that he’d expected them to; they don’t magically make everything better.
“No,” Stiles says, shaking his head. He thinks back on the past two and a half years. “No, Derek, you needed to—for whatever reason. You needed to, for you, and I respect that. I’ve come a long way, I’ve worked harder than I would have if we’d stayed together. I read your book, and it was great,” Stiles admits. “You did so much better without me. So I don’t want to know why you left.”
Derek studies Stiles.
“We could get coffee, or we could pretend we didn’t see each other today,” Stiles tells him.
“Want to...” Derek doesn’t finish. He just walks over to their rock. He jumps up onto it and waits. Stiles turns around and follows suit. Derek looks across the field. It’s one of the few open spots in the woods. “You don’t want to know why I left.”
“No,” Stiles says. “But I’ll listen if you want to tell me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“It was Cora. She was in trouble,” Derek begins.
His voice fills the air, as he explains to Stiles a worrisome tale. Stiles watches him carefully, noticing the way his voice catches every so often. He explains how Cora had needed to leave town for a while, how she’d been getting threats from a stalker for anyone in her life—anyone in Derek’s life.
Her stalker had just wanted to hurt Cora, in some way, any way possible. He doesn’t go into detail, but Stiles doesn’t care. He’d been caught, charged, and is now serving jail time.
“I couldn’t...”
“It’s okay, Derek. I’m not mad,” Stiles tells him gently. “I’m not sure I ever was. I trusted you had a good reason, and you did. I think.”
Derek lets out the smallest laugh. “Stiles, I didn’t deserve you.”
“Do you now?” Stiles asks.
“Definitely not,” Derek answers.
“Maybe someday in the future,” Stiles says.
“It’s been over two years, Stiles.”
“I’m fully aware, Derek. It doesn’t mean how I feel about you has altered. Maybe you don’t cover your macaroni and cheese in a mountain of ketchup or maybe you don’t laugh at bad puns anymore. I don’t know those things about you. I was thinking about it earlier. I would like to. I’d like to have my friend back, at the very least.” Stiles hops off the rock, so he can face Derek head on.
Stiles continues, “I’m not excusing you for how you hurt me, but Derek; there will never be anyone else for me. Maybe that’s dramatic, I don’t know. Our breakup wasn’t very dramatic, so maybe this is our chance. I just know that I let you go without a fight. I don’t want to do that again.”
“I could be dating someone.”
“But you’re not.”
“And you know this how?” Derek asks.
“Because you’re here,” Stiles whispers.
“For you. I’m here for you. I missed you. I...I loved you, Stiles.” Derek pauses. Then he says, “‘More than anyone on earth and...um, and I like you better than everything.’”
“‘Everything in the sky’,” Stiles finishes for him. He smiles. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I want one with you.”
“Me too.”
Stiles starts smiling. He reaches out, slipping his hand into Derek’s. He squeezes. “Let’s start with one of those non-dates.”
“Why?” Derek asks, jumping down from the rock. Hand-in-hand, they start walking back towards the road. “Those should’ve been dates from the beginning, Stiles.”
“Yeah, but I kind of liked the getting to know each other better bit.”
“Then let’s do that,” Derek tells him. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“No, you don’t.” Stiles laughs. “But I’m going to give it you anyway.”
Derek bumps his shoulder as they walk. It’s familiar enough that Stiles beams at him and bumps him back. It’ll be a tough journey, but they’re going to be just fine.