I Didn't Mean It (sequel to It Was an Accident)

Derek

To say that Derek was depressed was sort of an understatement. He was drowning, but the worst part, was that he didn't care. He wasn't gasping for air, or attempting to keep himself afloat. If there was a boat, or a safety raft, he wasn't swimming towards it. He was just drifting farther and farther into the darkness, letting it overcome him. His phone was ringing again, he realized, but he made no effort to answer it. In fact, his phone had not left his table drawer for the past four months, except when Erica took it out to charge it. A pointless action, but he never said anything.

"You skipped class again?" Erica asked, walking in the door. She flipped on the light and Derek retreated under his covers to ignore it. "Derek, you need to talk to someone. It has been four months and your grades are slipping. You can't live under your blankets forever."

"I don't have money for a therapist," Derek grumbled, closing his eyes because the light was still annoying, even through his comforter. "And I don't need one. What I need is to be left alone." He was done fighting her at this point. Before, he allowed her to drag him out of bed and parade him around campus, forcing him to participate. Now, he refused. He wasn't in the mood to go out and he really didn't want to put a damper on everyone else's plans.

"Did you talk to anyone today?" she asked, taking his phone out of the drawer. He groaned again, willing her to leave, but it never worked. "Oh, look. Another voicemail from Stiles. He's worried about you, Derek. If you hadn't interrupted when I called a few weeks ago, he'd be here. He can help you, if you just talk to him."

"No," Derek snapped, turning away from her as she tried peeling back the blanket. "Put the phone away."

Derek's heart clenched when Erica started to play the voicemail. Stiles' voice was the only thing that could make Derek feel something anymore.

"Hey, Derek. I know it's been almost four months now. I know you don't want to talk to me. I don't know why, but I get it. I've decided I'll stop calling. It's probably getting on your nerves. If you ever need me, just call, alright? If you ever get over whatever this is, I'll still be your friend. But if your wish is for me to move on, then that's what I'll do. Goodbye, Derek."

"This is what happens when you shut everyone out," Erica fumed, throwing the phone back into the drawer. "We are all here for you, Derek. Everyone keeps calling me to check on you and I have no idea what to tell them. Stiles, your parents, Lydia. They are all worried and they haven't heard from you in months. Please, Derek. Talk to someone, before there's no hope for you anymore. There are other people who have gone through what you're going through. If you won't let your friends help, find someone else. Please." She sat for another minute, waiting for Derek to acknowledge her, but he didn't want her to see him crying, so he was silent. "I'll come check on you later," she sighed, finally getting up. Derek waited until he heard the door close before he sat up and threw the blanket off.

He didn't want to get out of bed, but Stiles' words stuck with him. He couldn't let Stiles think he didn't want to talk to him, but he couldn't show up at Stiles' door empty handed with a story that may or may not be believable. He had to push through his own issues and get help before he could prove what happened to him. Not only to show Stiles, but for himself. He wanted justice for what happened to him, even if he didn't want to talk about it.