Stiles takes over driving again, because his skin is itchy and tight and he needs to do something with his hands otherwise he'll tear himself to shreds. Derek dutifully sits in the front seat and he doesn't say anything, so Stiles puts on a CD and for a moment it feels like the beginning again. If it wasn't for the hollow feeling in his chest, he might actually be able to fool himself into believing it.
Derek says nothing when Stiles turns the stereo back off again and just drives in silence. Except the silence grates on Stiles's bone just as much as the music had, and Stiles really can't deal with this deep-seated twitchiness that's plaguing him. He has to do something, something that isn't driving or crying or drinking.
Maybe he can find a waterfall. You know, one of those aesthetic ones you read about, where you might expect to find fairies.
Except Derek starts speaking. "Can we go to the beach?" His voice is quiet but not fragile, and Stiles may be agitated and angry, but he's never really been able to say no to Derek and it's really fucking annoying.
"Yeah," he says, and clears his throat. "Yeah alright. What sort of beach?"
Derek huffs. "One with water, Stiles."
And yeah, okay, maybe Stiles walked right into that one, but still. His grip on the wheel tightens, and his nostrils flare and something hot bubbles up in his chest and he's just so angry. He bites his tongue, though, because Derek isn't the cause of his anger, but it's hard and he knows that Derek notices.
God, his skin fucking itches. "I'll try and find one with minimal people," he says abruptly, voice sharp and ugly. "Hope that's alright."
It's not like Derek has a choice anyway. Stiles is the one driving, and Stiles is the one falling apart, and Stiles is the one who's lost everything he's ever loved; Derek just sits in the car and gives him disappointed looks. Stiles is getting real sick of those disappointed looks. His dad had given them to him all the time before he'd kicked him out of the house.
Stiles grits his teeth and tries to take deep breath and focus on driving, but he can still feel Derek watching him and the silence makes his head ache and his skin is itchy and Stiles needs it all to stop. He just needs it to stop.
But it doesn't stop, and Derek doesn't say anything else, and Stiles keeps driving and lets the silence devour him whole.
They drive, and drive, and drive and Stiles takes deep breaths and starts to think that maybe he'll be okay. The pressure under his skin is lessening, and the knot in his chest is easing, and his grip on the wheel loosens.
And then Derek gets a call.
"Hello?" The werewolf frowns out the window, curling his shoulders inward as he leans away from Stiles. (He's hiding something. He's hiding and Stiles can do nothing but drive, drive, drive). "I thought I told Peter not to let you call."
Stiles's heart lifts, because maybe it's Scott that called, and if Scott is calling after him, then that means Scott cares and Stiles really needs someone to care. "Who is it?" He asks casually, keeping his eyes carefully trained on the road. It doesn't stop Derek from tensing and trying to lean further away.
"We're fine," Derek murmurs into the phone. "Please stop worrying. We're currently going to the beach." He stops and he listens, and Stiles wishes he could hear the words coming through from the other mystery person. (He can't, of course, but he wishes). "He's okay. Maybe not happy but he's okay. He'll come back when he's ready."
Something sour coats Stiles's tongue, and his stomach roils with bitter disappointment. Go back. Of course Derek wants to go back. Of course Derek doesn't understand that Stiles can't go back. Of course Stiles should have expected this. Of course, of course, of course people can't stop making his decisions for him.
Stiles pulls over harshly, tires skidding in the dirt. He's panting, because anger is stealing his breath away, and the air is burning, and his hands are shaking hard enough that he can't hold onto the steering wheel. Without a second thought, he snatches the phone from Derek's hand and holds it up to his ear.
"I'm not coming back," he snarls, and for some reason his voice is cracking. "You can't make me come back. I'm free out here, and if I die well hooray for me, but I'm not coming back so stop trying to make me!" There's a pause, and Stiles feels his chest compress. "Please." His voice breaks completely, and his hot anger becomes a wet anger. "Please don't make me come back. I can't breathe when I'm in Beacon Hills, okay?"
His dad's voice is heavy and tired. "Okay, Stiles."
And then the call ends.
Stiles sits and he stares and he can't breathe and his hands shake and Derek doesn't say anything. The phone is still pressed to his ear, but it's trembling too and Stiles lets it drop down onto the seat beside him because holy fuck, that had been his dad. And Derek had known.
Stiles turns to the werewolf and he hands him the phone with a sharp inhale and he looks Derek in the eyes and he says, "Get out."
"Stiles-" Derek tries, but Stiles's heart is breaking and that wet anger is drowning his heart.
"Get out!" He shouts, and his throat burns and Derek makes a wounded noise and everything is falling apart around them.
But Stiles finds it hard to care because he's tired of people turning on him, he's tired of having to be alone, he's tired of being afraid. He's tired of being fucking tired, and maybe that makes him depressed, who cares. Stiles just wants Derek gone, because-
Because Stiles had trusted Derek, and then Derek had spoken to Stiles's dad and now there was nothing there except pain.
"Please just go," he breathes and Derek takes breath as if to say something, but Stiles just puts his hands over his ears and chokes on his misery until Derek slides out of the car and starts walking away.
Stiles pulls away, waits until he can't see Derek in the mirror anymore, and then he grabs the last bottle of alcohol in the car and then he drinks until he can't think.
YOU ARE READING
Six Feet Under | Sterek
Fanficyou're alone and i think you're scared that you don't feel enough love. { Stiles is in a tailspin and he wants to get away. Derek goes with him. It falls apart before it gets better. }