Unsteady | Sterek

Twenty: And i say hey, heeeey

When his father unlocks the cell that Stiles sits quietly in, he can't quite meet his son's eyes. Fair enough, Stiles thinks, but there's still a sudden ache in his chest that makes it hard to breathe without crying. When the door swings open, Stiles stands and his father stands and even then, the Sheriff can't look Stiles in the eyes.

"What's happening?" Stiles asks and something shatters behind his carefully blank mask when his dad flinches away.

"You're cleared of the murder charge and free to go." He doesn't seem to want to expand past that and Stiles pretends for the sake of his own sanity that he can't tell that his dad is itching to get out of there. Get away from Stiles. "A kid called Markus came in, admitted to blackmailing you into the murder, confessed to another murder and said he'd been threatening you."

Stiles can't do anything but stand and stare. He can't compute, he doesn't understand and his hands start shaking and his eyes start blurring. He counts to twenty but doesn't count his hands and there's a niggling feeling that this is a dream. No way is it this easy. It's never this easy.

He clears his throat and tries to blink away the sudden black spots. "Can I see him?"

"No."

It's short and it's sharp and it's nothing less than what Stiles deserves but he still recoils from the bluntness. He swallows and hates the tiny sound that slips past his lips and tumbles into the air. His dads eyes snap to his and they're so foreign and afraid that Stiles has to bite back a cry. He knows what his dad is thinking. He knows...he knows what everyone is thinking about him. He's just lost everything.

The stinging silence almost makes him want the Nogitsune back, just so he can't feel anything anymore. Then he scolds himself for thinking something like that because if the Nogitsune comes back, Stiles will kill himself before anyone else can get hurt.

His father turns away and Stiles is suddenly very aware of how fucked he really is. "I don't think I'll be home for a few days," his dad says and he still hasn't said Stiles name. "I'll talk to Melissa about you staying there for a few nights."

Stiles reads that as; I don't want to be near you and if you aren't at home, then I can sleep and pretend I don't have a murderer for a son.

"I'm not sure Melissa will want me there either," Stiles says before he can stop himself and he hates the way his dad stiffens. "You don't have to worry about running into me at home. I'll find somewhere else to stay for a little while." He thinks that his dad will say something and he braces himself but then the Sheriff leaves without another word and Stiles can feel his hope break with such a loud crack that he thinks everyone in Beacon Hills can hear it.

His world trembles and blackens and shrivels and Stiles can't draw a decent breath and his hands are trembling so much that Stiles has to shove them in his hoodie. The air thickens and he thinks that it should crush him, should force him to his knees and press him into nothing. It won't, of course, but he thinks it should.

He doesn't remember driving to Derek's but suddenly he's at the front door of Derek's loft and he feels so lost and he's back to waiting. He doesn't even know what he's waiting for. He doesn't knock, doesn't need to because Derek is a werewolf and knows Stiles and Stiles thinks he should be worried about that but he's more concerned about how his life has crumbled to ash and broken promises and pain in just a few days.

"Coffee?" He says when Derek just stares at him and the werewolf shakes his head.

Stiles tries not to feel the twist of his heart as he directs his eyes down and turns away and it's strange because now he's really, truly alone and Scott isn't an option, never has been and Stiles feels like he should just go back to the coven and give himself up.

"Stiles, I'm not turning you away." Derek's voice is gruff and full of something that grabs hold of the teen's chest and limbs and soul and holds him there, three steps from the front door.

He faces Derek again and he can feel his breathing stutter and shorten until he realises he's sobbing and Derek is still just watching him. "Markus took responsibility for the murder," Stiles manages to spit out and he hates how relieved he sounds. "But I'm still responsible for the other murders. Allison, Aiden-"

"Those weren't your fault." But Derek's words have an edge to them and Stiles can't find it in himself to believe what he's hearing.

Because Stiles remembers feeling the bombs in his hands and Stiles remembers how it felt to twist the blade in Scott and Stiles remembers how easily the Nogitsune had taken control of him, so really, the deaths were kind of his fault. "I think," he croaks, "That we both know differently."

And then the world forces him to his knees and he doesn't resist as his heart constricts and he can't breathe. For once, the coven doesn't matter and Allison doesn't matter and Scott doesn't matter and Stiles just stares at the dirt he can see in startling detail. If he tries hard enough, he can seperate each grain of dust.

"Stiles, breathe."

He thinks about his mother, about how she used to laugh when he tumbled off the bed in his attempts to be batman. He had loved her laugh. Now he can't remember what it sounds like.

"Jesus fuck, Stiles."

No, there it is. It rings in his ears and traces his skin and he closes his eyes. Tears bubble under his eyelids and they burn his cheeks as they escape down his face.

Then there's no more air and Stiles is scrambling to find more but something hot and heavy is clamped on his face and he's dying he's dying he's dying he's-

He's breathing.

He blinks and looks up at Derek, who stares back with wide eyes. Stiles can't help but say, "Your eyes could replace the moon, they're that wide. Like that Panic! At the Disco song."

And it's so stupid that he starts laughing and the laughing turns to sobbing and Derek says nothing as he gathers Stiles in his arms as hurried apologies pour from the human boy's mouth. They don't make sense.

Stiles thinks that they make things a little bit better anyway.