Archive of Our Own ^beta

He comes home every now and then. The smell is fading and with it, the memories as well. He won’t admit it, he won’t admit that he is forgetting Stiles, forgetting how he used to sound, or how exactly his body used to shock when he laughs. He won’t even dare to acknowledge that as every day passing, a piece of his heart is healing and a piece of his soul is recovering. He can’t. He promised Stiles he won’t forget him, but truth is, it is hard to keep a promise to the dead.

He has shut down the house the next day of the funeral; he couldn’t stand all the overwhelming smell of Stiles in it. However, he didn’t let anyone inside the house either. He even got mad and half wolfed out, threating to expose the whole werewolf thing when a lady approached the house, aiming to get inside, because the thought of someone invading what is left of Stiles smell back then felt like a heart wrench he won’t be able to take in such a short time, not yet anyway. But he finally did. He doesn’t let himself be okay with that.

The windows are shut from the inside with wood planks and the furniture are covered with covers, it looks hallow like his own life and he refuses to admit that this isn’t true anymore because if he did, then he will have to let go of Stiles, of his memories, of the house and of their dreams. He is still stuck in that time loop when Stiles started to bubble about University and how Derek should continue his studies as well because Stiles won’t marry some looser without a collage degree. He never got around to take it, it was a Derek-Stile thing, not just Derek-Alone thing.

At the memory, a smile stretches his face as he looks at the stairs of the old house in front of him. The red coulor of the carpet wearing off and the dust taking over everything. John told him, it is only a matter of time before the dust eats everything. He was right. Not going to dig deeper right there.

He never takes the stairs to the second floor. There is a room up there he can’t afford to go in. A blue room with silky covers and white sheets, full of Stiles musk, lust, love, and desires; full of Stiles moans, gasps, and sobs. He knows, he won’t foul himself on this one, that the smell must have faded away as well, but it doesn’t mean it memories aren’t up there in his brain just as fresh and new as yesterday. Fresh as in Stiles’s body flesh under his fingers, hot and smooth, sweaty and ticklish. Fresh as in Stiles’s smell when he pants, jerks, and slumps on the bed as Derek gets him all for himself. Fresh as in Stiles’s heartbeats drumming and singing along with Derek’s, a musical chord lolling them to night dreams and wonderlands.

It’s all so painful, each room of this house. They hold so much happiness, sadness and life. A life he lost with a blink of an eye. A life of Stiles running in the kitchen, trying to hide the fact that the food isn’t homemade even though he knows Derek could smell it and if Derek asked he could figure the lie right there. Of Stiles rolling his eyes a billion times watching Derek baking and Derek teasing him that at least he can cook something unlike Stiles and his fast food. Of Stiles laughing under his breaths as Derek tries to shut the pack up and makes them listen to him. Of Stiles’s eyes holding his across the living room, a small smile making it way on his face, full of fond and love Derek has never received in his life before, as if he’s being praised and treasured just for existing in itself. He still remembers how it filled his heart to the point of his lungs giving up for seconds and stop functioning over all because how could anyone be so in love with him? How could anyone gives that much of everything to anyone in general? He miss having his heart full and lungs empty.

He has been lucky, he always reminds himself, for having Stiles in his life even if it hadn’t last, not that he was surprised, things never last with him enough for a lifetime, not the good things anyway. John and Scotts also remind him constantly, that as much as Stiles has given him, he also gave in return. That if Stiles’s ghost was around he would have smacked Derek’s head and told him that he had also been lucky for having Derek in his life.

He breaks a little every time he visits this nest of old home, sheds some tears that he would be unaware of and denies later. However, he knows, one day he won’t visit at all, he will forget it all and it won’t hurt so much anymore. The air will swallow the smell, the dust will eat everything and he will finally be fine.

Just never fine enough to love again.