Love is Like the Wind

Chapter 1

The fog was lifting. The beeping sound filled his ears. As he looked around, he had no idea where he was or how he got there. His heart raced and the beeping got quicker. There was a man sitting beside the bed. He was tall, muscular, with stubble. His intense eyes were intimidating. "Who are you?" he asked. He had to keep sentences simple or the words would get mixed up between his brain and his mouth.

"I'm Derek," the man replied calmly. This was now the 54th introduction he'd given to the boy in the hospital bed. Sometimes he woke up perfectly lucid. Today wasn't one of those days, it seemed.

Stiles took a deep breath, concentrating again in an attempt to get more information. "Why… you're here?" He knew he messed that one up and frustration fell over his face.

"I'm your boyfriend," Derek reminded him.

"I don't know you," Stiles replied with considerable struggle. He couldn't have a boyfriend. He'd remember if he did. He'd especially remember if he had a boyfriend who was that handsome.

"You did once," Derek said wistfully.

The man looked so sad that Stiles figured perhaps he was telling the truth. "What's happening?"

Someone else entered the room. He was much older than Derek. He seemed vaguely familiar, but Stiles still couldn't place him. "How is he?"

"He just woke up," Derek replied.

The older man furrowed his brow and Derek responded with a simple head shake. He knew they were somehow talking about him, but to call them out on it would require too much effort and there was no guarantee that what he wanted to say would end up being what actually came out of his mouth.

"Are you hungry?" the older man asked Stiles.

Stiles had to think for a second, trying to remember what "hungry" might feel like before deciding to just say "Yes."

The older man nodded and disappeared again. "Who is he?" Stiles asked.

"That's your dad," Derek replied.

Realizing that he had parents, Stiles became curious. He took a deep breath before forcing out his next question. "Where's my mom?"

This was the first time Stiles had ever asked this question. Usually he asked the same questions and Derek gave him the answers, just thankful to hear Stiles' voice for twenty minutes or so before the effort of talking rendered the young man too tired to stay awake. He, Scott, and Stiles' father had made a pact: they would always answer Stiles honestly, even if the information might be painful to reveal. "She's no longer with us," Derek replied, euphemistically.

Though he knew that phrase had some significance, he wasn't sure what it really meant. "Ran away?" he asked.

Derek leaned closer, taking Stiles' hand in his. "No. She… uh…" he struggled, not sure how Stiles would react. "She died." He didn't mention that she died from the exact thing that was slowly claiming him.

"Am I die?" he asked. No, he thought. That was wrong. He hit himself repeatedly, trying to force the words to come out properly. Derek reached up and grabbed his hands to prevent any attempts at self-harm. If the nurses saw it, they'd put Stiles in wrist restraints and Derek would likely be arrested for killing one of them. Stiles was already so vulnerable. Derek couldn't stomach seeing him tied down like that. Even imagining that possibility made him nauseous.

"We all eventually die," Derek replied. It wasn't a lie, per se. Derek just didn't want to think about the day when Stiles wouldn't wake up from one of his many long naps.

The answer satisfied Stiles temporarily. He yawned, his energy entirely sapped. What was his name? It started with the letter D, he thought. Daniel? No. "I want to sleep now," he whispered, rolling onto his side and closed his eyes. "Goodnight, David."