Distance [Derek Hale]

Chapter Four

Staring up at the door in front of her she tried to find the courage to knock. Her heart was beating uncharacteristically loud within her own head and she couldn't remember the last time where it had been so loud. It was during high school she knew that much. Bringing her shaking hand up she knocked on the door gently before taking a step back and looking around at the forest. She'd never been afraid of the woods but when there are bodies out there something inside you tells you to be scared.

She was at the Hale house of course, and she couldn't help but think if there really were murderers out there then she probably should have worn something different. She was in a red wrap dress which fell just a couple of inches above her knees and had small white flowers embroidered all over it, and a pair of converse. Of course, due to the weather, she'd put a denim jacket on top but truth be told it didn't do much to help. A tatty yellow back-pack was also perched on her shoulders and she'd had it since middle school but she loved it and didn't have the heart to replace it yet.

Biting down on her lips, she looked around for a second time her heart beginning to ache at the fear that was creeping into her. The question as to why was there a dead body on this ground was filling her.

The door swung open and she jumped looking up to meet Derek's eyes. He was stood differently. Like a wall had been built between them overnight and she couldn't tell if she had built it or if he had.

"I came to see if you were alright," she admitted, and he raised his brow before opening the door wider. She stepped in leaving a small space between them as she did. "And, I'm sorry about...about your sister." She couldn't say her name. It felt wrong to do so.

He gave a gentle nod both of them simply staring at each other. The room was as quiet and as still as an empty church. It was him though. She'd seen it after Paige had died, the same vacant body which was filled with anger and desperation and hopelessness that no-one could even try to comprehend.

"Oh, I also brought you something..." she muttered opening her bag and pulling out a box. "They're Avocado egg rolls with a vegan cilantro ranch," she admitted passing it over to him. "I know you're a terrible cook so I thought I'd make something... posh. I wrote about them on my blog actually, everyone liked them."

He took it and looked down at it trying to fight off his amusement, "I know," he admitted. It was strange to hear that someone knew what you wrote about and had actually read the posts and the comments which followed, "when did you become vegan."

"Oh, I'm not. I would miss the cake too much." Her eyes then spotted the sleeves of his leather jacket which were unopened at the cuffs and it was driving her insane. "Jesus, it's a good job I brought them. You can't even dress properly," she scoffed although her eyes were incandescent with humour as she stepped forward beginning to zip the cuffs up and he could only watch her amused. Feeling his burning gaze, she pushed her eyes up to meet his and she hesitated. She could hear the pulse of her heart and the warmth it brought. "What?" She asked, her voice a wavering whisper.

It was a few seconds before he moved to walk up the stairs, "come on," he urged and blindly, mechanically she followed.

It was an unspoken thing but they both knew what to do. Like much of their time spent together they ended up sitting down with books in their hands. Derek was perched on the bed leaning back against the headboard and one leg lying across the bed whilst the other was hanging from it. His nose was in Alexander Dumas' The Three Muskateers and he was around halfway through it. Margo was sat on the floor although she had been offered the bed and chair but found she didn't want to sit on them. Instead of a reading book she had her yellow notebook out and a pen and at some point she'd begone leaning back against his leg.