Dialogue and Healing (Maybe?)

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     Stiles lay on his back in his old room, on his old bed on top of the covers, thinking. Everything from that evening was a bit of a blur: after Scott had hugged him they had gone into the kitchen where Melissa heated up leftovers for Stiles (they had just finished eating dinner when Scott had smelled Stiles coming) and he found that for the first time since he had gotten his memories back he was truly hungry. They had spent two hours catching up on what had been going on in Beacon Hills in the last two years. Scott wasn't in college yet but he was taking an internship with Dr. Deaton and would eventually take over the clinic, once he got his B.S. Besides that not much had changed. Stiles' dad was still the sheriff and Melissa was still working in the ER. 

     Stiles had given them three of the necklaces Sam had left and they had put them on, asking him where his was. He told them only that it was hidden, feeling reluctant to tell them about his tattoo. 

     Scott had been reluctant to mention the pack, only bringing it up when Stiles asked. Lydia had gotten into Harvard. Malia was taking a marine biology course at the University of California, which no one had seen coming, but she had gotten a scholarship and the course didn't involve math. After Melissa elbowed him several times Scott had sheepishly admitted that he was carrying on a long distance relationship with her, and Stiles had clapped him on the back and said he was proud. (He was, too.) 

     Erica and Boyd (yeah, Stiles had been fucking thorough) had cut contact, but apparently Derek had kept tabs on them and they were living in New York running with the Brooklyn pack.

     Kira had gone to the desert to learn the ways of the skin-walkers (which were apparently a thing) because she hadn't been able to control her fursona (Stiles totally meant fox spirit). Allison and Isaac had moved to France; Allison to study hunting in a prestigious hunting university in Nantes (which was also a thing) and Isaac because he and Allison were engaged and he wanted to learn French (both of which were totally valid reasons). Aidan had moved to Massachusetts (apparently to stalk Lydia) and Ethan had gone to London for no discernible reason. Peter was doing his Peter thing, hanging around Beacon Hills and being creepy. 

     The gist Stiles had gotten was that the pack had fallen apart. Everyone had moved on. Stiles hadn't wanted to ask but he needed to know. "And Derek?" He had tried to sound casual, but the sharpness of Scott's gaze belied the fact that he had not succeeded. 

     "Derek is still here." Scott had replied, and Stiles knew he had heard the very obvious backflip Stiles' heart had done in his chest. If Stiles wasn't sure before that he still carried the stupid high school love that he had had for Derek since he'd met him he was sure now. 

     Scott had gone on to explain that Derek had left for a couple months but had come back and gotten a job coaching at the high school last year, of all things. Apparently Coach Finstock had finally retired and the school had been so desperate to fill his place that they didn't ask many questions. Surprisingly they liked him enough that he was going to be coaching again in the upcoming school year. For possibly the first time in his life Stiles had been speechless. 

     The moonlight filtered in through his window, pale and faint, painting his old room with shadows. It was exactly the same, to a degree that creeped Stiles out. 

     Once the clock in the living room had chimed out midnight Melissa had run to find fresh sheets, saying she would make up the bed in Stiles' room for him, and Noah and Scott had shown him up the stairs, where his room existed exactly as it always had. Scott had moved into the guest room right down the hall but Stiles' room hadn't been touched. 

    Stiles rolled onto his stomach. He couldn't sleep. He felt a weight he had not felt for a long time; the guilt of lying. He had never lied to his father about something this massive, and he had never lied to Scott. He knew somehow the truth would come out. 

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