Stiles puts his jeep into park and sits there for a while, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, looking at the house he hasn’t been to in months, didn’t think he’ll come back to any time soon, if ever. Looks at the silhouette moving in the window and his breathing hitches.
He’s not ready to see Derek this soon. Wants to, but at the same time doesn’t. He knew he was going to have to, with his promise to keep him helping to look for Boyd and Erica, but he doesn’t feel ready, not yet. Not when the last time he saw him, Stiles left him asleep in his bed at the loft, arm stretched over the empty space where Stiles had just been lying.
He takes a deep breath and gets out of the car, walks to the front door as slowly as possible and holds his fist up in the air, hesitating, before he finally knocks.