𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍, derek hale ✓

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

┏━━━━⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆━━━━┓

SOFT

DEREK COULD PINPOINT THE EXACT MOMENT WHEN THINGS STARTED TO CHANGE.

He thought about the events from the abandoned mall often enough, but it was the aftermath that really lingered at the forefront of his mind as of late.

Since he first met her, all Derek did was use Emerson Avery. If he needed a favour, he knew who to ask, and if he needed help, he knew how to find her. It was a rather selfish plight at first, the man seeing the obvious advantages of having her around, and he was incredibly aware of just how many favours he owed her in return.

Emerson, with her snarling demeanour and brash threats and all of it, was compassionate. She had to be, considering the amount of times she leant Derek a helping hand when he certainly didn't deserve her charity. Yet, he never expected her to turn her back on Deucalion for him... not when so much was at stake for her.

Hannah's life was in Deucalion's hands, and Emerson was the only person who knew just how serious that implication was. In helping Derek, the blonde all but abandoned her uneasy alliance with Deucalion. She didn't have to help him when she stumbled up to her car on the brink, because really, most of the problems with the alpha pack would fade if Derek wasn't around for them to seek out.

She didn't have to, but she did— she did because she was as selfless as they came. That was a thought that well and truly dawned on him when he'd woken up the night she helped him heal.

Derek remembered waking up, limbs sore and the wound on his chest only just beginning to heal. His eyes scanned the room, picking up on the gentle beating of her heart from across the room. He pushed himself upward, breathing sharply through his nose before finding the strength to hobble over to the couch.

He looked at her for a moment, noticing the twitching of her hand and the furrow of her brow. She looked like she was in pain, like she was the one with deep wounds on her own chest.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that she'd taken his pain. Of course she had.

"You're such a brat," he murmured lowly before he lowered himself onto the ground right next to the couch.

Derek instantly reached for her hand, black veins crawling up his own arm dully.

Her hair always looked so soft.

Without a second thought, his hands reached out once more. This time, it wasn't because he was repaying a favour— no, he brushed some of her hair away from her face. Because he wanted to.

And shit, it was as soft as it looked, he thought. His lip quirked up when her brow softened ever so slightly.

The moment was gone the minute her heartbeat sped up, indicating she was waking up. His hand retracted at the same time that his face neutralized again. The Hale man watched her blink a few times, consciousness returning to her while his hand seemed to tingle.

"You should be resting," she whispered, the back of her hand groggily going to rub at her eyes. "Y'know, lying down as opposed to sitting on the concrete."

Always a smartass, he thought while withholding the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he opted to address the elephant in the room. "I got your voicemail."

She pushed herself to sit upright, gesturing for him to take a seat next to her just so she didn't have to look at him head on. It took him a moment to rise, but he complied.