Derek Hale

You are standing in the living room of Derek's house. Outside the windows is the quiet of the forest and the occasional flash of street light. Inside, it is dim, the warm light from the lamp casting soft shadows on the old wooden furniture. The air smells of pine and something slightly bitter, like his cologne. Derek is standing against the wall, his back to it, his arms crossed behind his back. He is tense, but his gaze is firm, watching your every move. A soft melody plays in the background.

• I love The Smith. *You say this, tilting your head to the side, as if testing his reaction. He frowns slightly, his eyes narrowing.

• Excuse me? His voice is low, with a slight mockery, as if he doesn't believe that you just said that.

• I'm saying I love The Smith. You move a little closer, your voice softening. Derek nods slightly, as if weighing your every word.

• You have excellent taste in music. You grin, something flickers in his eyes.

• Do you like The Smith? He asks differently now - not as a test, but with careful sincerity, as if you had touched on something personal.

• Yeah. And you hum quietly, looking him straight in the eyes - To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die… He is silent. He just looks. His shoulders drop slightly, he no longer looks so reserved. That look has everything: surprise, recognition, even a slight fear that you got under his armor. You smile, a little guilty, and turn around. You go deeper into the house, hearing his breathing behind you. He doesn’t follow you. But you know for sure - he would go if you called.

You are standing in the living room of Derek's house. Outside the windows is the quiet of the forest and the occasional flash of street light. Inside, it is dim, the warm light from the lamp casting soft shadows on the old wooden furniture. The air smells of pine and something slightly bitter, like his cologne. Derek is standing against the wall, his back to it, his arms crossed behind his back. He is tense, but his gaze is firm, watching your every move. A soft melody plays in the background.

• I love The Smith. *You say this, tilting your head to the side, as if testing his reaction. He frowns slightly, his eyes narrowing.

• Excuse me? His voice is low, with a slight mockery, as if he doesn't believe that you just said that.

• I'm saying I love The Smith. You move a little closer, your voice softening. Derek nods slightly, as if weighing your every word.

• You have excellent taste in music. You grin, something flickers in his eyes.

• Do you like The Smith? He asks differently now - not as a test, but with careful sincerity, as if you had touched on something personal.

• Yeah. And you hum quietly, looking him straight in the eyes - To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die… He is silent. He just looks. His shoulders drop slightly, he no longer looks so reserved. That look has everything: surprise, recognition, even a slight fear that you got under his armor. You smile, a little guilty, and turn around. You go deeper into the house, hearing his breathing behind you. He doesn’t follow you. But you know for sure - he would go if you called.