Why should he try and stop this person, this way he didn't have to deal with losing what little he had left.
There was an oddly comfortable object placed underneath him, or he was placed on top of it, then gentle hands ran through his sodden hair. Slow, calming, large hands. He heard a murmur of something outside his overwhelming bubble of panic and knew it was probably his kidnapper. He really should be more worried about that but something in his gut told him he was safe, not that it really mattered but it was the same thing that told him not to trust Theo, the same thing that told him Matt was evil and hey guess what? He had been right then although failed yet again to warn his friends, well that was not necessarily true, he had told them they just hadn't listened. He should've tried harder. It was his fault. Always his fault.
That same murmur rang in his ears and this time it sounded vaguely familiar.
Derek, that was Derek's voice, was it not?
"Stiles? Come on Stiles, you need to breathe, gods I don't know what I'm doing, please Stiles." Okay, that was definitely Derek, but what was Derek doing helping him? Was he doing it out of pity? No, Derek didn't do pity, so what then? "Stiles, please." He forced his eyes open and, as soon as they landed on Derek, crouching next to the comfortable squishy thing that Stiles classified as a couch, he jumped back, curling in on himself. Not that he hadn't expected someone to be there, he just hadn't expected it to actually be Derek - it could've, still could be, a hallucination. Especially since Derek had a look of concerned panic gracing his beautifully sculptured face. Fucking hell, he reprimanded himself before realizing Derek was talking to him again.
"...ou weren't responding so I brought you here." Stiles made an undignified, confused noise at the back of his throat still trying to calm his shaking hands and his erratic breathing.
"In the forest, I heard your breathing, went to check it out, found you..." he trailed off as he realized that maybe Stiles didn't really care right now and that he was making a massive fool out of himself.
"Derek?" His voice came out strangled and desperate as he continued to be confused as to why Derek seemed to care and didn't seem very, well, very Derek.
"Stiles, I don't know how to help you. I tried talking to you before, you didn't respond. What do I do Stiles?" Okay well, now Stiles was really confused, almost confused enough to be distracted from his slowly shrinking, or was it just collapsing in on him like everything else, balloon of fear. Almost.
When Stiles' response was still lacking and Derek was still unsure of what to do, he pulled out his phone, googling how to calm down a panic attack. Luckily for both of them, he found a good website almost instantly, taking a quick mental note to chastise himself later for not doing this initially.
"Stiles, I need you to look at me," when he had Stiles' attention, which was easier than expected, he continued. "I need you to focus, okay?" All he got was a nod in response.
"Okay, I need you to name five things you can see." Another nod but still no verbal response, so Derek coaxed him a little.
"Your eyes," Stiles' eyes darted around taking in so many things it made his head spin yet again, he couldn't seem to pick out anything else, how could he be failing at such a simple task? That didn't need an answer, not really, it was right there in the question. Failing. That was just his thing. His hand flew to his hair, tugging none too gently as he tried to focus. One thing, amongst so many. His stomach twisted, he needed to get out, get to a restroom. But he couldn't move, once again, stuck.
"Stiles, hey can I touch you?" One more nod. He pulled carefully at Stiles's hands, un-entwining them with his hair and placing them between his own in his lap. "Focus on me, okay? What else can you see on me?"
"Your hair, your lips," This he could do, "your nose, your clothes." His breathing was more even than it had been only a couple of minutes ago.
"Four things you can touch or feel." Maybe an ultimatum was not smart right now, even one this small but it seemed to work anyway.
"Your hands around mine," Stiles' cheeks grew hot as he spoke but he went on, "the couch we're sitting on, a slight breeze from the open window and--" he trailed off unsure of what else he could feel, he shifted "And the fabric of my clothes." Derek gave him a reassuring smile before he spoke again,
"You're doing so well Stiles, three things you can hear."
"I can hear you talking and the same breeze as before and my voice." His heart had slowed to a more steady thrumming, his words becomin more sure.
"Nearly there, two things you can smell."
"The preserve and the leather of your jacket." Was it odd that a human with completely normal senses could smell that, probably not, right?
"Last one, name something you can taste."
"Salt? I-I can taste salt." He knew it was from his tears from earlier, pathetic. Weak. Just like him.
"Good job Stiles," To both of their surprise, Derek pulled him into a tight hug.
"Derek, why--why are you being so nice? Why did you help? I don't deserve it, you should've just left me there, it would've been better for both of us. You wouldn't have to deal with someone you hate and I-I wouldn't..." He trailed off knowing that if he finished that sentence Derek would kill him. Maybe that would be for the best, no one would have to deal with him anymore, everyone would be happier without his useless, waste of space self.
"You wouldn't what?" Stiles couldn't bring himself to answer. It would change everything, possibly ruin it all because he was in love with someone who could never love him back. Who was he kidding? No one could ever love him, he was a coward, a gods damned coward and everyone knew it. He felt one more word burn into that dark, ever-present crevasse in his mind: unlovable.
"Stiles?" He'd taken to long to answer, he needed to think of something.
"I wouldn't have to deal with a fake Derek." Only sort of a lie, maybe Derek wouldn't catch it.
"Stiles." The warning undertone sent a thrill through Stiles that he would never admit to.
"It doesn't matter. I-I don't want to talk about it." They both knew that the last sentence was more about the attack than anything else. And although Derek knew some people didn't like talking about what was going on in their head he thought it worth a try, but he wouldn't push.
"You should," he made to go on but was cut off.
"To who Derek, huh? You, why? You never cared before so why do you now? Never even spoke to me unless you needed something, a lot of those things included me shutting up. So why do you want me to talk now, hmm? Why do you want me to open up and tell you why I broke down in the middle of the fucking preserve because for the life of me I can't work it out. Why did you help me, Derek? You hate me, always shoving me against walls, trying to silence me, never cared because why the hell would you? No one else does. And fucking hell does it hurt, it always does, no matter how many times you do it, no matter how many times I'm left behind, no matter how many times I'm shunned and pushed to the side it always fucking hurts! " He had stood up and begun pacing by this point, hands flying through his hair once again as Derek watched in shocked horror, both glad Stiles was talking and worried because of what he was saying but unable and unwanting to stop him, knowing this could help Stiles. Help was what he needed right now, Derek realized, he didn't have anyone left to help him.
"Everyone's always leaving me if they haven't already and why would they stay? I'm annoying as all hell, weak, pathetic, human." The words felt like a punch to the gut but Stiles ploughed on. "I'm a waste of space, only useful in a situation where you need a research assistant, I'm not funny, my hands aren't clean - we all know those people were my fault." The Nogitsune. Derek knew that Stiles blamed himself but not to this extent, knew he struggled sometimes but not this much, knew they left him behind but never thought of what it would look like to Stiles. He wanted to hold Stiles, tell him he could help, tell him it was going to be okay but was it? "A coward, Derek, I'm a coward. I can't even tell you that I'm in love with you because I'm scared what you'll say, you'd probably kill me and... And... Oh, gods, I said that out loud." Finally coming to a halt, eyes wide, he slumped against a wall watching Derek, trying to gauge his reaction.
After what felt like eons but was probably only a few minutes of Derek just sitting there in complete and utter silence, no emotion on his face, not even a flick of one of the caterpillars that settled above his eyes, Stiles spoke more to himself than anything, "Why can't I just shut up? I always ruin everything." And then arms were around him, pulling him onto a lap. "Woah, what the--"
"Don't you ever say that again, okay? You didn't ruin anything."
"Wait but--" he was cut off once again.
"I- Stiles, you're my mate. I've known for a while and I've struggled with it because I thought you were straight, I never smelt any interest on you and it hurt. That's why I hardly ever talked to you, it hurt to goddamn much, why I pushed you against walls, to be close to you and to shut you up before I broke. Every time you spoke, everything you said, it stuck with me, worming its way under my skin, making me want you more. And every time I felt myself wanting you more, I tried to push you further away." That was the most Stiles had heard Derek talk, well, ever.
"Mate? But, no, but why? Why would you want me? I'm nothing Derek. I'm no one." His voice slowly grew, gaining certainty of his words and it broke Derek's heart, this was his fault, his and his packs and he needed to fix it.
"You are not no one, Stiles, you're someone. The pack wouldn't be able to hold it's self together without you, you're our glue and we need you, I need you. We may not have shown it very well, but we do. I'll do better, I'll talk to the pack, I'll help you every time you need me to and more. I'm here for you, I'm always going to be here. I promise. I'll fix this."
"Why help me?" It sounded stupid to Stiles' ears but the words were out and he couldn't take them back, not now.
"Because what you said before it made me realize we take you for granted and I'm sorry I didn't realize that sooner. You deserve to be treated better and you will be, from now on. And I think we both know what you said, there was, is, more to it. You don't have to tell me right now if you don't want to, take your time, tell me when you're ready, whether that's tomorrow at lunch or in four weeks in the middle of the night. I'll be here and I'll help you. We can get you a professional if that's what you want but if not you can stick to me and I'm sure after we talk to the pack, if you want me to that is, they'll be up for a chat at any time as well." And for the first time in a long time, Stiles felt wanted. He felt okay, not perfect but okay. And maybe it wasn't happily ever after but for once he felt like it could be.