Derek's heart hurt, and yes, he had one. Most people assumed he was cruel and unfeeling, and to a certain extent, that had been true. But really, he had been through a lot, and one cannot just get away from what he had unscathed. His heart-battered and scarred and a dusky shade of gray-ached for what it hadn't ever truly known.
He had known, however, the first time he had caught a glimpse of those dark chocolate eyes and quirky smile they went hand-in-hand with, that he was in, pardon his French, deep shit. He immediately kicked into self-preservation mode, telling himself that the boy with the cheeky dimples and the snarky, groan-inducing sense of humor was the epitome of bad. Very, very bad. Which was definitely not the reason he found himself sitting next to Stiles boy in his rickety old Jeep and having to slam his head into the steering wheel to keep from kissing him. It was also not the reason he couldn't sleep at night, and, in order to console himself, go to his house and make sure Stiles was okay on his side of the window.
They couldn't help it, really. They were like magnets, and, no matter how hard they fought, being brought together was inevitable.
Not that they didn't try to resist it, because oh, did they ever. Derek had begun to lose count of how many times he had had Erica, trying to clear his head, trying to forget. Even Stiles, confused and only a little distraught, had refocused his efforts on impressing a certain strawberry blonde in an attempt to distract himself from the tall, dark, unforgivably good-looking mystery that seemed to keep cropping up everywhere he went.
But oh, did Derek's damaged heart hurt. It hurt because Stiles was something he could never have, the forbidden fruit in the garden of Eden. It hurt because he could only watch from afar, hurt because every time they touched-accidental or essential-his immediate reaction was to give in, to cave. But most of all, it hurt because Derek wasn't, in fact, heartless.
And maybe that, the simple fact that Derek had a beating, blood-pumping heart that yearned and twisted and broke, was what hurt the worst.