Shattered Bonds

The Unspoken Words

In the days that followed, the pack spent more time at the loft, surrounding Stiles with the safety of their presence. Derek, despite his usual stoic exterior, had taken to checking on Stiles more often than he probably realized. At first, Stiles was too numb to notice the way Derek lingered in the doorway when he thought no one was watching, his gaze flickering over Stiles like he was trying to memorize him, to make sure he was still there.

It was late one night when Derek finally sat down beside Stiles on the couch, the weight of his presence an unexpected comfort. Stiles was leaning back, staring blankly at the TV, though he wasn't really watching. He could feel Derek's eyes on him, feel the unspoken words that lingered between them.

"You know, you're being a little obvious," Stiles said softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Derek's head snapped up, his eyes widening slightly. He shifted uncomfortably. "What do you mean?"

Stiles turned his head to meet Derek's gaze, his expression unreadable. "You've been watching me. A lot."

For a long moment, Derek didn't respond. He just stared at Stiles, the silence thick between them, until finally he sighed.

"I'm just making sure you're okay," Derek admitted, his voice softer than usual. "I didn't know if you'd want..."

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "What? To talk about the whole 'almost dying' thing?"

Derek winced but nodded. "Yeah. That."

Stiles chuckled, though it was a hollow sound. "I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it either, Derek."

Derek's eyes softened, and he leaned back, his shoulder brushing against Stiles'. "Whenever you're ready," he said quietly. "I'm here."

Stiles swallowed hard, his heart thudding in his chest. He could feel the weight of those words-the promise behind them. For a long time, he hadn't trusted anyone this much. Not even himself. But Derek's care, though silent, was something that resonated with Stiles. He could feel it deep in his bones.

"I think I'm just trying to... process," Stiles admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Everything that happened. It feels like I'm not... real. Like I'm watching someone else's life unfold."

Derek's gaze never wavered, and his hand, seemingly without thought, rested on Stiles' arm, his thumb brushing gently against the fabric of Stiles' shirt.

"You are real," Derek said firmly. "And whatever happened, it doesn't change who you are. You're still the same Stiles. And we're all here for you. I'm here."

Stiles turned to look at him then, meeting his eyes, really meeting them. He could see it now-the sincerity, the quiet strength that Derek had always carried but had never shown this way. He didn't have to say it. Stiles already knew.

"Thanks," Stiles whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Derek gave him a small nod, his thumb still moving in slow, gentle circles against his skin. "You don't have to thank me."

And for the first time in days, Stiles finally felt like he was safe. Like he had a home in the people around him-the people who truly cared.