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They’re almost done with packing up the bedroom and Stiles opens the closet door to pack up what might be in there. It’s Derek so he knows it won’t be much. A few shirts, and the suit he wore to Erica and Boyd’s funerals most likely. Derek wasn’t someone with a big wardrobe. And what he finds is exactly that, except the hint of orange that caught Stiles eye, and he pulled on it. A familiar orange and blue shirt he’d long thought lost came free.
Stiles stood there, the shirt tight in his hand. What on earth had made Derek hold onto this shirt?
“What is it?” Scott asked from behind him.
“I-“ Stiles paused, her never really told Scott the full story, though the Miguel nickname had been trotted our teasingly on both sides over the years. “Nothing. Just an unexpected memory.” Stiles finished.
“Are you sure you’re okay to do this? I can ask Deaton to help.”
“No.” Stiles replied, “No. it should be us. We owe him this much.” Stiles grabbed the suit and the few hanging shirts and turns to drop them in one of the waiting boxes on the bed. He turned back to the closet and as he did the edge of a box pushed back on the shelf caught his eye and he reached up and pulled it down.
The lid of the box came loose easily and Stiles was surprised to see the small stack of photos on the top. The first few were of Laura, unsurprisingly. From the buildings in the background and Derek’s youthful face in a couple, he guessed they were taken in New York.
The next few he could tell were taken here at the loft. A few of Erica and Boyd, a couple of Isaac, several of Cora, and even one lone photo of Peter, taken while he was looking out the loft windows with a strangely vulnerable look to him. All these later photos were more carefully chosen he could tell, and Stiles wondered how many photos Derek had taken that he’d been able to select these few that all managed to capture some essence of their subjects.
The last photos surprised him. He thought for a moment that it was just one or two, but he flipped through them, and they were all him. The oldest taken as far back as his sophomore year, and he could tell from the trees in the background that it was spring. After the swimming pool and after everything with Jackson.
There was even one from his graduation, and Stiles hadn’t even known Derek had been there. He turned to Scott, “Did Derek go to our graduation?”
“I don’t think so.” Scott replied, “Why?”
“There’s a picture.” Stiles said, and the tried to triangulate where the photo taker had been seated. High in the auditorium, he thought, and wondered who he could check with to find out.
“I wonder why he had a picture from our graduation.” Scott replied. “Weird.”
Stiles didn’t reply, and started to slide the photos back in the box, when a folded paper in the bottom caught his eye. He pulled it out and opened it and read-
Stiles
If you’re reading this I’m probably dead, or you’re snooping where you shouldn’t be. It could go either way.
But I think you’re the one most likely to care about anything I might leave behind. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking, I don’t know.
After Boyd, after Jennifer, it seems like maybe we’ve become something like friends. I’ve thought of you that way at least.
I wish I had something helpful to say. I don’t though. I never really have.
Peter knows I’m leaving my stuff to you. Probably not payback for all the shit I’ve put you through but it’s what’s left. Sorry.
I wanted my last words to you to be something besides whatever stupid thing I probably actually said last. I wish I could tell you everything but the words just don’t come. I wish I’d been someone different for you.
Please be safe
Derek Hale
Stiles just stared at the page.
“What is is?” Scott asked from behind him and Stiles handed him the letter. He slid the box lid back over the contents.
“He left you the loft?” Scott said as he finished reading it.
“The building actually. He owns it.” Stiles replied, turning everything over in his mind.
“That was nice of him I guess.” Scott replied. “I’m surprised he didn’t leave it to Cora.”
Stiles didn’t reply as he looked at the box in his hands. “I think I need a few minutes.” He finally said after a moment.
“I’ll take the boxes from the kitchen down to the Jeep.” Scott said, handing the letter back to him.
The room grew even quieter in Scott’s absence, and Stiles was left holding the letter and the box of Derek’s memories. After a moment tears began to make their way down his cheeks as he held the letter against himself and slowly let the world he’d been clutching together fall apart.