Chapter 5

In this town filled with
Violent mothers
Cheating fathers
Leaving lovers
Angry brothers
Starving daughters
Starving daughters
Worried lovers
I swear to you, I'll never trust again
Maria Mena, Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

Derek had been running for a while now. Honestly, he'd lost track of how long. He was somewhere deep in the preserve at the edge of Beacon Hills, but he still felt the itch under his skin that told him he needed to run away, that he needed to keep going until he outran himself. All those years he'd spent running, it was all for nothing. He was still trying to escape something that lived inside himself.

After Kate, he'd changed in a lot of ways. He'd stopped looking at himself in the mirror or any reflective surface for that matter, didn't want to see the image of her guiding his clumsy hands to her soft hips. He didn't want to see the smirk that played across her face when it was over embarrassingly fast. He didn't want to see the weak, stupid little boy that had fallen for her tricks. He'd stopped playing basketball because he couldn't change in the locker room or play on the court amidst the mass of other bodies without feeling like he might suffocate. He'd started working out on his own instead. Endless sets and reps as if building an impeccably strong outer shell would somehow erase his weakness, erase the scared sixteen year old that still lived under his skin.

He had liked to think that he was okay because of all that, that he managed just fine. But then Stiles had to go and corner him and he'd froze like a scared puppy, all the memories flooding back as thought they'd never really left. And in truth, they hadn't. He'd suppressed them, but they were still just beneath the surface. He wasn't strong. He wasn't fearless. He was still nothing more than a pathetically terrified teenage under his carefully constructed mask. He still slept with one eye open, still wasn't sure whether he could or should trust anyone or if he was only made to be used.

But he had trusted Stiles. Somewhere along the way he'd let his guard down, and Stiles had waltzed right in. He was loud and obnoxious and annoying, but he was reliable. He was always there which was more comforting than Derek would ever admit. Stiles was ready to fight alongside him, even when he hadn't done anything to deserve his sacrifices. He'd never met anyone so courageous before. He only hoped that it really was courage and not a need to make up for something or a lack of self-worth because God knows that's what it was for Derek. Not to say that he didn't truly want to help people, but the fact that he didn't care if he died certainly helped when he had to throw himself into danger to save someone else. It's not like he deserved a life anyway, not after he'd gotten so many people killed. But Stiles did; Stiles deserved a life.

Derek had almost made it completely out of Beacon Hills when his phone rang. He almost didn't answer it thinking it might be Stiles, and he really didn't know what to say to him right now. But he did after checking the caller ID and seeing it wasn't Stiles, it was Scott, and Scott never called him unless he needed help with something.

"What?" Derek snapped as he pressed the phone to his ear.

"Derek?" Scott voice sounded small and unsure which put Derek on edge. Scott never sounded anything less than totally confident. "Derek, it's Stiles…"

And Derek felt his heart stop.

xxx

Derek burst through the doors of the emergency room with far more force than strictly necessary. He didn't bother with asking one of the nurses where Stiles was, he simply followed the scent that he knew better than his own. He soon arrived at the second floor and spotted Scott looking through the window of one of the rooms.

"What happened?" Derek practically roared, slamming Scott against the nearest wall.

"Woah, man, calm down," Scott replied, his voice much steadier than it had been over the phone. "He's asleep. The doctor said it was an overdose, and he doesn't know when he'll wake up, but he should be okay."

"He should be okay?!" Derek asked incredulously. "How the hell could you let this happen in the first place? He's your best friend. You're supposed to protect him. You're supposed to keep him safe."

Scott didn't say a word, but his eyes flashed red as his fist connected with Derek's jaw. Derek stumbled back with the force of the blow, clicking his jaw back into place before looking up at Scott in disbelief. Scott merely glared one more time before marching off to God knows where leaving

Derek to stare after him.

Derek shook his head before turning to look through the window of the room in front of him. His heart skipped a beat as he took in the image of Stiles laid out on the small hospital bed, IV inserted into his arm, his skin almost as white as the sheets beneath him. Though Derek could hear the consistent beep of the heart monitor next to the bed, he had to hone his hearing to Stiles' real heartbeat for several seconds before he could convince himself that Stiles really was alive. He looked so fragile.

Before he knew what he was doing, Derek was inside the room, standing uncertainly next to the bed. He wasn't even sure he was allowed in the room, considering Scott had been waiting outside, but he didn't really give a shit. He just needed to confirm that Stiles was still there. He dragged a chair from the corner of the room up to the bed and sat down. He tentatively reached out a hand towards Stiles but withdrew it before he could touch him, and instead contented himself with crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair to wait, a tightness lingering in his chest.

"I felt like crying but nothing came out. It was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can't feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then but I think I have known it pretty often, too often."

— Charles Bukowski, Tales Of Ordinary Madness