Sterek One Shots (boyxboy)

Haunt Your Kitchen Cabinets Til The Day I Die

Haunt Your Kitchen Cabinets Til The Day I Die by cabbageoriley
(Little sad but funny at the same time.)
••••••

Stiles dies on a Tuesday. His body just finally gives out. After months and months of getting weaker and drifting further away from sanity. As he suffered, it seemed like the days dragged on and on, but when it was finally over, everyone realized how quickly his time was up.

Eighteen and still a virgin, but so, so in love. Derek was it for him. If he would have lived to be one hundred, Derek still would have been it for him. Derek loved Stiles, too. And, his heart broke so many times during the long months.

••••••••

"Where's Derek?" Stiles asks his dad one afternoon.

The sheriff looks across the bed at the leather-clad man. "Stiles, do you know who that is?" He points to the man beside the bed.

Stiles turns to look. "No."

"What does Derek look like?" Derek's voice wavers.

Stiles smiles. "He's tall, and he wears leather. His hair is perfect, and his scruff scratches me when we kiss. His eyes are the most beautiful things I've ever seen. His eyebrows are like two big wooly worms staring longingly at each other who only get to kiss when he scrunches his face together." He raises his hands and mimics them kissing each other. He laughs, but when he looks back at Derek he freezes. "Derek?!"

The man smiles sadly. "Hey."

"No!" Stiles shoots out of the bed and into Derek's arms. "No! I don't want to lose you, too!" The young boy sobs for the rest of the day until he falls asleep.

"Where's Derek?" Stiles asks his dad.

The sheriff glances across the bed at Derek, again. "Stiles, do you know who that is?" He points to help Stiles know where to look.

"No."

"Stiles, what does Derek look like?" Derek asks. This has been their routine for the past few weeks.

"I don't know," Stiles shrugs. "But I miss him. He doesn't come see me anymore. Maybe it's because I stink." He looks at his dad. "I'm going to go get a shower, so maybe he'll come back." He starts to get up.

"No, Stiles, you can't." The sheriff pulls the covers back up.

"Why?... Oh yeah." He turns to Derek. "My feet don't work anymore," he explains with a strange smile on his face. But, then he gasps and tears start to pour down his face. "Do you think that's why he doesn't come anymore?!"

"NO," Derek barks. 'I've been here every day' he wants to say. "He's just been busy. He'll be here tomorrow. I promise. He'll be here or else."

"Or else what?" Stiles snarks.

"Or else I'll rip his throat out with my teeth."

Stiles laughs and smiles again. "He'd like you."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I do. I like you, too."

Eventually, he gets to the point that nothing he says makes any sense. No one realizes until it's too late that their last good conversation was their last conversation with him. He still talks of course- a Stiles, no matter what it is, will never be quiet. It's just that he doesn't use real words anymore. Still, he's fairly content to just babble for hours on end. He even writes everyone a letter and proudly yet gravely gives them to them. No one has the heart to point out that the notes are just lines and scribbles. He probably wouldn't understand anyway.

Three days before he dies, he goes to sleep. He doesn't wake up.

•••••

So, yes, Stiles dies on a Tuesday. His body just finally gives out. The funeral is beautiful- well, as beautiful as a funeral can be. He is buried in a plot overlooking the Preserve. Derek sits by the headstone that Stiles picked out himself and refuses to leave for two days.