Blurry » Sterek

Chapter 8

Stiles stops outside a giant metal door, gripping the strap of his backpack. His first thought is that Derek gave him the wrong address, but the door abruptly opening shuts that thought down.

"Were you just planning to stand outside all day?" Derek asks, already annoyed. "No. I was just—I was..." Stiles looks down to the floor, not finding his words. Derek just rolls his eyes and shuts the door behind him, then heads over to his couch where is laptop is sitting.

Stiles surveys his surrounding. The loft is dark and kind of spooky, there is definitely a lack of furniture, but there's a lot of space. "Do you live here alone?" Stiles inquires, still curiously looking around. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes."

"Isn't it lonely?" Stiles asks before even thinking about the question. "I'm used to it," Derek deadpans, no emotion evident in his voice. "You're only eighteen, Derek. You shouldn't be—"

"You're here for our project. That's it," Derek snaps. Stiles opens his mouth to argue, to say something, but he only sighs. He sits next to Derek on the couch, who puts more distance between them. Again, Stiles goes to say something, but this time groans as he logs into his computer.

"Did you—"

"I shared it with you this morning," Derek interrupts, already knowing what the other teenager is about to ask.

They both type at their keyboards, both to search and add information to the presentation. The only audible sound is from just that, the clacking of their keyboards. It drives Stiles mad, the silence.

"Dude, look, I can't do the quiet!"

"You never have been," Derek mutters, still working away. Stiles glares at the side of his head, "Wow, I'm surprised you managed to bring up that we have a past."

"Stiles," Derek growls warningly. "What? You have to see me all day today and tomorrow. You don't think I'm not going to ask questions, have you freaking met me? I just don't get it. We were best friends until you moved away, and when you suddenly come back out of the blue, you won't explain to me what the hell happened! It's hard to see you and not be the way were before—before...well, I don't know. Cause you won't tell me what I did!"

Derek slams his laptop closed, now standing on his feet with cold eyes. "You don't think this," he gestures between them, "Isn't hard for me too?"

"Then tell me what I did that was so bad, Derek. I can't imagine something so horrific that pushed you this far—to hate me so much!" Stiles shouts, standing up as well and almost matching the Hales height. "No. No, no," Derek says harshly, stabbing his finger into Stiles chest, "If you wanna know what you did, you'll just have to remember."

"Remember?! I was a drunk middle schooler! So were you!" Stiles exclaims. "I wasn't drunk," Derek states sternly. "Um, you starting downing cups before I did. Just because you remember something I don't, doesn't make you sober that night."

"I can't get drunk, Stiles. I didn't know you'd follow suit. That's why I took you to a room to sober you up," Derek bites back. "Ha! You gave me details. We went up to a bedroom when I was—oh my. Oh my, god. Wait...did I try to...you know?" Stiles asks awkwardly, now rubbing the back of his neck. Derek rolls his eyes and steps back, huffing angrily.

"You do that. I'm going to work on the project in my room."