One Night

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2094 Words
Comments are always encouraged; I love the btw!
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Derek fell forward into his bed and rolled to his side, tossing his arm over his stomach with a pained yell as he coughs, no blood but sever pain in his arm and abdomen. Derek grits his teeth and pushes back so his head leans on the pillow at the top of his bed.

"I'm sorry for dropping you Derek, will you be alright." The man doesn't respond to Jennifer, his attention is solely on healing his wounds. "Why do you still have that jacket if you're not gonna do anything with it?"

Derek adjusts his position slightly and presses his head back into his pillow. "Comfort." The man closes his eyes and before he knows it, lets himself drift off. The silence is everything to Derek, yes he's been stuck with silence since he fell over the edge of the floor in the old mall, but this silence is different. It's dead, it's nothing compared to the silence that comes due to the loss of his heightened senses. This silence is peaceful and open, but it's also devistating. Not for the reason that he's used to sounds and heartbeats, but for the reason that in his dream he's sitting in the buried hale home with no heart beats, none but his own. And that fact alone is saddening and devastating based on the way Derek can't seem to pull himself free from the seat. He used to be stuck there but this time he chooses to stay, he does so with the fact that he found something, a new pack, a new world he could love.

The man knows that he moves, quite a bit, in his sleep, but when a jostling pain rips through his waist Derek jerks awake and twists as he roars out and hovers his hand over his stomach carefully. The wounds are slowly healing but they're not healing fast enough. He grits his teeth and slaps his hands down on the mattress he lays in.

"You know aggressively abusing inanimate objects has never gotten anyone anything any faster." That woman's voice filters in.

Derek sits up to stare evenly at the woman. She stands at the desk positioned just before his large window wall. She seems to be rubbing something in a bowl massaging it; when she pulls her fingers free they're white with powder. Derek blinks and winces as he shuffles slowly till he can make it to the edge of his bed and sit there, gripping the edges and thoughtfully letting his eyes close. He runs through everything, trying to find reason and save in what has happened.

"My pack thinks I'm dead, they're miles away and without them it's only harder to heal but I can't make a solid plan."

The woman nods as he answers. "A lot of stories and a lot of influential and predominant texts use a false or fake death to their advantage." Derek grunts in response but doesn't speak. Quickly and softly the woman mentions a few examples. "I hope you don't mind, I read online once- there's this mixture you can make that'll help wounds heal." She smiles over at him.

"I'll be fine," he practically growls through a huff of air and then slowly pants his way to breathe properly again. He thinks his internal bleeding healed long before he's reached Jennifer.

"You won't freaking let me take you to the hospital and I need to do something. If you'll heal as miraculously as you're saying then you can't like get a. Infection of something right," at this Derek looks up. "The least you can do is let me help you in the stupidest way I can."

Derek would love to be able to chuckle at the way the woman sasses at him- the tone reminding Derek of stiles and the way he'd sass back at Derek. The man lets his attention drop again, he nods half heartedly and lets her do her thing. The woman practically yips with happiness and makes her way over.