A/N: Hi guys. Well... I had this idea for a while (ever since Season3B's first episode where the whole class signed the riddle for Stiles) and finally decided to write it down.

This story is basically of the RomCom genre, but I feel like I should put on a warning of use and mention of ADHD, anxiety, Mutism and Apraxia. I don't claim to fully understand what it's like to live with any of them, but I tried my best to research all and write it as accurately as I can. If any of you spot some inaccuracy, I'll be more than happy to correct it.

Chapters will be updated weekly. Special warnings would be at the bottom notes of the chapters when needed.

I hope you will enjoy this fic. Don't forget to leave a review!

Summary: 'Derek glanced at Stiles, who's smile dissolved into a light frown. He moved his hands again, and Derek flicked his eyes back to Sheriff Stilinski, silently asking for help. The Sheriff took a few steps forwards. "Stiles is mute." He said.'

I own nothing.

Chapter 1

I ran away in floods of shame,

I'll never tell how close I came,

As I crossed the Holland Road.

"Are you absolutely sure about this decision, Mr. Hale?"

Derek sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the Dean of Admissions from across the desk, his fingers drumming on the chair's arm. It was a constant, annoying nervous noise. They were looking at each other silently, almost like a staring contest in which the winner gets to have the things his way. The Dean's left eyebrow gave a faint twitch, small, dark eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

After a few long seconds, a wolfish little smirk spread on Derek's lips. The drumming stopped.
"Yes. I am."

"Very well." The Dean finally sighed in defeat, thin thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose under the frameless glasses he wore. He slid forwards a small pile of documents, handing the young man his pen. "Just sign these, and you'll be free to go." Derek took the pile silently, quickly adding his signature with thin, elegant letters.

"I must say," The Dean of Admissions sighed again. "I don't understand why you'd want to leave mid-semester. You are one of our brightest students. All this nonsense about not being fit for the jo-"

"I don't expect you to understand." Derek's quiet, calm voice cut in, and he slid the signed papers back and placed the pen down with a soft 'click', getting up and walking to the door. He paused there for a moment with his hand hovering over the handle, then turned his head to look at the old man sitting behind the desk. A rare, faint smile graced his lips when he said,

"But thanks anyway."

And then he left.

Packing was quicker than he originally thought and passed with the blink of an eye. Derek had no idea he had that few possessions, and was somewhat surprised to find that all of his things fit in a single - although still large - side-bag. He threw it over his shoulder and took one last look at the room he spent the last three years in, then pushed his cellphone into his back pocket and walked out, closing the door behind him.

He passed across a few people he knew, and a lot more that he didn't. Some were kind enough to respect his reasons for leaving and wished him good luck... some shook their heads in disappointment or disgust at his - in their opinion - stupidity and whispered gossips amongst themselves, as if he couldn't hear. And some - some simply ignored him. He nodded at the few of them he knew personally, squeezing hands and saying goodbyes as he passed through the crowded, noisy halls.

Finally out of the dorms, he could spot his car parking outside, black and elegant and silent like her owner. He climbed into the driver's seat, throwing his bag in the backseat and starting the car. For just a moment, he sat there in silence, hands flat on the wheel and eyes staring forwards without seeing, his heart slamming itself against his rib-cage nervously. It is finally happening. He then blinked himself awake and geared up, taking a deep breath, and within minutes he was passing the front gate with squeaking tires and heading out to the open road. He slid his windows down and let the wind blow his hair and wash all of his worries away, the music from his radio swallowed by the noise.

He was smiling now. He hadn't felt that much relief in a while.

He was free.

The drive back to Beacon Hills was long and tiring, and he had to stop for gas a few times before the sign informing him he was only 7 miles away from the town appeared at the side of the road. It didn't bother him though - he had music and he had his car and the open road, and that was the best thing he had in a long time.

It was already quite dark outside when he finally entered the small town's borders and drove slowly through the lively streets, watching a few groups of teenagers hanging out and laughing. He smiled to himself and turned down the music a little, wondering if his little brother was amongst them.

He hadn't seen Scott in over three years. Ever since he went out to college, his father never once came to visit, as he was too busy with his duties as an agent. Therefore, his teenaged brother couldn't come as well, and Derek didn't bother visiting home himself, being too pissed at his father.

When the familiar, tall, dark silhouette of the McCall house came into view, Derek's heart skipped a beat. Telling his dad over the phone of his intentions to drop out of college without finishing his psychology studies first was one thing, hard as it's been. But facing him now, after he actually took action... Derek dreaded that. There was bound to be a loud fight about it, that he wasn't too eager to begin.

He didn't want Scott to think badly of him.

Parking his car outside the house's garage, he stopped the engine and sighed, closing his eyes as his fingers fumbled with his car keys. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and opened the door, sliding out of his black Camaro and walking up the short, wide stairs and up to the front porch. He stood there in silence, his fist hesitantly hanging in the air for a second-

And then he knocked.

"What the Hell were you thinking?!"

Raphael McCall's voice boomed in the living room as Derek's jaw hardened, and his wife winced and closed her eyes for a second in disapproval at the loudness, dark and warm eyes watching Derek sympathetically. Melissa McCall was always good to him, and she never tried to take his mother's place in his life. She simply tried to give him enough attention and comfort, more like an aunt than a mother, providing an open door policy whenever her husband lost his temper with Derek. Derek appreciated that, and he held deep respect and fondness for her, as well as unlimited love for her son. His little brother.

His father was a whole different story. Never pleased, never accepting, and nothing was good enough. Derek tried. Oh, Heavens knows he tried. When he was much, much younger, he constantly tried making Rafe proud, to gain his respect. He felt like some sort of a burden back then, but then again, what teenager doesn't feel like that? After he left for college though, Derek grew up. He realized that whatever reason Rafe had for taking him in after his mother died, positive nor negative, it didn't really matter. He was grateful for having the chance to get to know his little brother, and that was enough encouragement to put up with his father.

"I told you I was gonna leave." Derek answered through gritted teeth, feet planted flat against the floor.

"I thought you were JOKING. That it was a PHASE!"

"Well, then you should've made sure! Are you seriously pinning YOUR wrong assumptions on ME? Next time, ASK me befo-"

"Enough!" Melissa's voice cut in firmly, stopping both of them. They stood there, glaring at each other with equal amounts of anger. "Cut it out, you two! So he left college, so what?" She glared at her husband, delicate eyebrows coming together in a frown. She could be downright scary when she wanted to. "If he wanna ruin his life, it's his decision, not ours." This time, she gave Derek a short, frightening glance that made the young man flinch and back away a little. His lips parted in protest.

"I didn't-"

"I don't care." Melissa stressed slowly, dangerously, before Derek could utter some more excuses. "It's none of our business. It's yours."

"But honey-"

"No."

"...fine." Rafe grumbled in defeat, and Melissa looked somewhat pleased, even though still pissed.

"Now, what should I make for dinner?" She huffed when the two men stopped looking like they were going to jump each other's throat. "It's late, but we were waiting for you, sweetheart." She flushed Derek a reassuring smile. "Scott should be here any minute now."

"I should really get going," Scott sighed and paused the game, putting down his controller. Stiles looked up at him in disappointment with big brown eyes, a thin and long stick of liquorice still hanging from his lips.

"Don't give me that Bambi look," Scott rolled his eyes as Stiles started pouting and batting his eyelashes comically, his wide, whiskey eyes staring at his friend with a look that was meant to melt him. Unfortunately, it only served to make Scott huff and snort at him in amusement.

"You know it doesn't work on me."

Stiles dropped the look and frowned, narrowed eyes looking away from Scott. The other teen sighed.

"Seriously?" Scott asked with an arched eyebrow. "Are you seriously trying to pull the 'I'm not talking to you' thing off now? Because we both know you can't stay mad at me for more than two minutes." At that, Stiles turned back to him with a huff and a glare that lasted less than a second. He brought his hands up and moved his fingers with swift motions, watching the small smirk that spread on Scott's face.

"You calling me an asshole?" He snorted. "Excuse me, but you are the one trying to keep me from seeing my brother."

Stiles paused, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Your brother is back in town? He asked, fingers twitching frantically in front of his body. Scott nodded.

"He should actually be here already. Mom said we are gonna have a late dinner tonight because of it. Some sort of a 'Welcome Home' dinner-thing." He shrugged, trying to look uncaring. But Stiles knew how much Scott adored his older brother, and so he made a shooing gesture with his hands, smirking.

Then what are you waiting for? Stiles grinned widely as he signed, his hands moving almost too fast for Scott to follow. Go!

Scott responded with a wide smile of his own, hand momentarily patting Stiles' shoulder before he picked up his bag and hurried towards Stiles' bedroom door.

He turned around for a second, giving his best friend another happy glance before calling out a quick, "Thanks, buddy. You are the best!" And then he bolted outside.

Wrap up your questions, keep them down.

Let the water lead us home.

A/N: Song used: "Home" / Mumford and Sons.

Don't forget to leave a review and tell me what you think!