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A/N: I was asked by becuz_bruh to make a « teeny sequel » to It All Started With a Flower and I didn’t want to change the ending to my story.  So instead, I wrote it from Derek’s perspective (yes, it was Stiles speaking in the other).  I did my best though it was hard to write in the same style. Enjoy.

He always said that we started with a flower because that’s who I was when he fell in love with me. He always did love to take control of things. If he decided that we started with a flower then we did, however far from the truth it may be.

 So it all started with a flower because I used to hold on to things with a passion that, in his mind, isn’t human.

 *

When we met, I thought that there was a place before birth and after death. I also thought it was the same place. I told him about that one day and he asked why wit the greatest confusion. I told him I liked the idea of not being atoms on Earth, the idea that I was a mind, free of a physical body.

 I would tell him about life and death and my opinion on things. He said he was drawn to my oddness and need for knowledge. To me, it’s quite ironic how he used to think it odd when he, now, thinks that way.

 *

 I loved him when we were both boys. He a senior, I a freshman. He was older by two years only and had the most beautiful, warmest eyes I’d ever seen. And that buzz cut I would tease him about.

 He changed though. He changed a lot.

 When he came back I could barely recognize him. His eyes weren’t warm anymore, they had lost their spark. I ignored it, ignored him, and had fun with my girlfriend, his sister.  I felt guilty in a way but he had told me to move on. So I did.

 He left, she picked up the pieces, we went on a date, then two, then three, and I moved on.

 He bragged about his shags but he was hurt by me, I could see it.

 *

 I loved him. I suppose that was the start of the end.

You see, our story isn’t like others. It’s sad but not because one of us died and it’s happy but not because we got back together.

 It’s sad because we were each other’s first loves and we’ll probably always love each other that way but it just won’t ever work again like it did that first year.

It’s happy for the same reason.

 *

 We met because I was a close friend of his sister’s. I was a freshman and so was she but she would talk about her senior brother all the time. One day, she introduced me to him and we hit it off immediately. He fell in love slowly, I fell fast.

 Then one day, I kissed him. It had taken all my courage and I just remember a blur around me, my heart beating a crazy tempo and his stunned look when I pulled away. I told him to think about it and left.

 I was proud of myself that day.

 Prouder than I ever was again.

 *

 In a way, we were always meant to be. That became sure in my mind when he kissed me after a week of silence and confused eyes on his part and fear on mine.

 He kissed me and I kissed back harder.

 The smile I wore that day was reserved for him and his eyes only, even after he left.

 *

 Our lives didn’t change, we had each other and the kissing and hand holding but nothing else was different.

 At the end of the year, he took me to a house without a roof. We watched the stars and he told me he had gotten accepted in a school in New York. I was scared he would leave me and asked when he was going. He told me he would as summer ended. I was terrified but told him we had a few months to enjoy.

 *

 That summer had some of the hardest months of my life. And finally, the day before he left, he took me back to that house and we had sex. It wasn’t planned, at all, but it was great. He told me he was glad I hadn’t lost my virginity to a random person and I could hear a continuation to that sentence but I never knew what it was.

 The next morning he told me to move on, to never look back on how we were. It was best for both of us in his eyes and deep in my heart, I knew he was right. I cried and he held me.

 He cried as well, he never let me see him but I know he did.

 We stayed close together, cuddling and kissing. Then we had to go back. He said goodbye to everyone, including me, than he left. We looked at each other and I did what was right : I looked away and walked towards my house. I didn’t look back and I know he didn’t either. It was hard, but it was right.

 *

 The next year was the hardest of my life. His sister was a constant reminder of him but she was there and he wasn’t. I started loving her as more than my sister and eternal best friend. I started loving her and my heartache slowly became a dull throb instead of that sharp, cutting, pain.

 I couldn’t fall in love with her, not really. I went to the house and wrote the question that was on the tip of my tongue in the ground. Then I went home and cried myself to sleep.

 I started becoming better afterwards. I asked her one a date and things went great. I asked to be my girlfriend a year before he came back. She said yes.

 *

 The day he came back, he kept looking at me like there was something he couldn’t figure out about me that he hadn’t known before.

 After four years he asked me what had changed, why I had lost my passion for things. I brought him to the house, to the only answer I had. I gave him a note saying I’d be back the next day.

 I left him there and didn’t look back. I cried myself to sleep again that night. This time, I wasn’t the only one in the bed and I knew I wasn’t the only one hurt by my crying.

 *

 I went back the next day.

 I ran from the house when I saw his words under mine. I panicked, my breathing quickened, I started crying. I couldn’t help it.

 After an hour or two, I went back home. I went on with my life, he went on with his. It was our closure. Those sentences meant more than my wedding ring or my children. They meant more because they were stronger.

 But who knows, maybe one day we’ll give us another chance.

 *

 Why won’t you give me my heart back ?

 The same reason you won’t give me mine back.

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