𝖎𝖓 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖍 𝖍𝖔𝖕𝖊 𝖒𝖎𝖐𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖎𝖘 actually hope stilinski
and lives in beacon hills, unknowing of her real
heritage, until her mother and father and a crazed
family of original vampires arrive at her h...
❛ the one in which we all get put in our feels . ❜
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WALKING UP TO DEREK'S LOFT MADE FIFTEEN STEPS FEEL LIKE A HUNDRED AND TWO. Hope climbed them with an anxious rage swelling in her chest: she was both nervous to learn about herself, but angry about why she had been denied the opportunity to do so before. A billion questions about the former had been bubbling in her chest, yet she could only compile two for the latter. Why did you not tell me? How long have you known? Hope adored Derek, to her he was like a brother, but she had trusted him and after all the betrayal she had experienced recently, another one was not what she had been expecting; from him even less. Anyhow, she finally arrived at the door and knocked.
It opened not a second later. Derek's face remained as emotionless as ever. However, his eyes did widen subtly before settling into their usual narrowed stance, adding to his brooding persona. He lingered by the door unsurely, and his fingers tapped against the metal frame; for once, the man looked nervous. It was unusual for Hope to be greeted with a smile, that she could admit, but Derek looked distant, sheepish...guilty.
So he had known. Hope always knew he had, but there was a difference between presuming and fact that Hope hadn't distinguished between before. Her head tilted slightly as she assessed him before she said shortly, "We need to talk."
And that was that. Derek's shoulder slumped ever so slightly and he opened the door more, allowing her to enter. In the loft, a stack of guns and weaponry sat on the table. Hope barely spared it a glance as she continued forth. She remembered when this place had been a stranger to her, and how it had grown into something more; but now she felt disconnected from it, because it was a place that held secrets. She poised herself on the sofa and gestured for him to do the same, and after a second's hesitation, he did as asked.
Derek didn't seem much like starting the much needed conversation, but Hope was happy to start. Her voice was short, but not filled with betrayal nor hatred, even though both were brief emotions she had felt for the werewolf. "You lied to me." She commented offhandedly, and then she narrowed her eyes, "Why?"
"I didn't lie to you—you never asked if I knew anything." Derek muttered.
"Fine." She shrugged, because he was right. No part of her had thought to ask her friend, because she figured that if he did know anything, he would've told her. "But you still kept information from me. Very important information."
"I did."
"Why?" Derek didn't answer. Hope scoffed, "You always do this. You're the supernatural expert but whenever anyone comes to you for information, you ignore them. We can't figure out all of this on our own—we need people like you and Deaton and Peter and Chris to tell us things to help us. I need you to tell me things that could help me."
