It’s the first time since they found him Derek allows himself to really look at Stiles. They’ve never been alone in a room before today; there’s always been someone. Scott, or Lydia, looming over him like guard-dogs, never letting anyone come too close. And when it wasn’t them (because they had to get back to school, eventually, even if Scott had resisted the longest, had to be literally dragged by his mother out of the hospital room) it was the Sheriff, wearing the saddest, most guilt-ridden look Derek has ever seen.
It’s almost outlandish to see Stiles without his hospital gown, now. For a fleeting second, Derek wonders if his own memories were affected as well, because as hard as he tries, he cannot picture Stiles from before anymore. All his has is the recollection of a boy with a broken body lying on a bed too big for him, soaking his bandages with blood.
“Hey,” Stiles breathes softly.
The sound of his voice is the strangest, because for months Derek only had the atrocious reminiscence of the last time he heard him (screaming, screaming and begging, Derek’s name chanted like a prayer, save me save me save me no please).