Kings of the Moonlight

Ships in the Night

We're just fumbling through the grey, trying to find a heart that's not walking away.

-

It's almost as if time stands still for that one moment.

There's a silence present that's not really a silence, more of a terrible heady tension, and it vibrates in strong, hard waves through the air as Derek stares.

It feels like preconceived artifice, like the thrilling cliff-hanger of your favourite novel, but at the same time, the utter realness of the situation, the utter anguish of it all, barks against Derek's head.

Isaac stands in the immobile in the doorway, eyes wide and stunned, with his mouth forming a small moue of confusion and disbelief and whatever the fuck else etching itself in the frown on his face.

His little boy blinks twice and Derek can see the tears forming in his eyes and the feeling it gives him, just knowing that this time he's the one causing his son's pain, that hurts.

It's a wild feeling, dangerous and wounding, like a feral wolf baring its fangs in warning as clear, viscous saliva drips from its muzzle.

It happens in a second, in just one tiny, insubstantial second but it's more than enough. Isaac's arms fall slack and Benji the Penguin plummets the short distance to the ground, dropping heavily on an unsuspecting Wolf, causing his paws to slide uselessly in his surprise on the dark stained wood flooring, before it finally makes contact with the ground.

Wolf yelps in surprise, swings his head around to yap at Isaac in question but Isaac is already fleeing from the scene. Derek can hear the heavy pitter-patter of his bare feet on the floor as his son runs down the corridor, Wolf hot at his heels.

Derek heaves up and off the bed as soon as Isaac turns, completely determined to run after him and only he only remembers that he's stark naked when the sheets slide off of his skin.

He's running on autopilot really, and he stumbles off the bed, looking around wildly for his clothes before he pulls on his black sweatpants in despairing haste and moves towards the door.

Fuck.

At the very edge of his vision Derek can see Stiles hastily pulling on his clothes but Derek's already out of the door.

His world is crashing and burning around his ears, he can hear the door of Isaac's room being slammed shut and so he immediately heads in his direction.

He crashes his way down the hall, his pulse thunders relentlessly in his ears and he can already hear Isaac's cries begin to echo through the apartment, like the ghosts of something past.

Derek's mind instantly compares this situation to that one inconspicuous January Thursday, the one night that started this all off; where his son's miserable cries were the only thing Derek's mind could process.

His heart lurches and claws at his throat and he knows he's fucked up everything.

Tears smart painfully in the back of his eyes but he trundles on even then, even when he feels sick to his stomach with worry.

He finds Wolf pawing uselessly at Isaac's closed door; he hesitates for a tiny fraction of a second, utterly afraid of what he'll see before he takes a deep breath, straightens his shaking shoulders and opens the door with purpose.

What he sees once he opens the door has him stumbling back a halfstep, his heart implodes and it sends shockwaves and fragments of hurt spearing and lashing and biting at his flesh.

His Isaac, his little Isaac, leans heavily against the side of his bed, as if he can't even summon up the energy the climb up, and instead he kneels where he despairingly collapsed with his back to his father and an arm braced on the bed, his head pushed towards his chest, eyes shut tightly as he cries and Derek can see the weighty tremors wracking his body.