Derek shook his head and resisted the urge to tear it all down, tearing his eyes away from the picture of her in the middle of all the flowers. He had to get to class. He’d already missed a week of school. His teachers had all been very sympathetic (not that he deserved it) but he knew that if he didn’t get his assignments done he’d lose his spot on the basketball team.

And if he lost that...he’d have nothing left. Nothing except blue werewolf eyes and a foggy memory of cradling her body close to his chest.  “Derek! You’re back.” He let his eyes fall closed and took a deep breath, counting to ten. If it had been most others he’d have just kept walking, ignored them, but of course, it had to be him. “Hey Jordan,” he said, trying to put some amount of emotion into his voice. He turned when a hand clapped him on the shoulder, Jordan’s concerned green eyes landing on his face, his lips quirked in a small, genuine smile.  “Everyone’s been worried about you. I’m so, so sorry.”  Guilt stirred in Derek’s gut. He was glad Jordan wasn’t a werewolf to smell it. “Yeah, I uh, thanks,” he stuttered. How was he supposed to respond to people showing him sympathy? Did he accept their condolences? Did he just let himself believe the narrative that some  animal had killed her and pretend like it hadn’t been his harebrained plan that had gotten her into the mess, and his claws that had hastened her death?  “Did you hear me?” Jordan asked, squeezing Derek’s shoulder gently.  No, he hadn’t, too lost in the sea of guilt and blame and anger to pay any attention outward. “No, I didn’t, sorry.”  “I said that Coach is looking forward to you being back,” Jordan said, moving his hand from Derek’s shoulder and tucking it into his pocket. “We need you, man. I’ll see you at practice.” Jordan grinned and headed into the sea of people and towards his class. Derek reached across his body to place his hand over the spot on his shoulder where Jordan had gripped him. He’d touched Derek – a monster, a killer – without hesitation, or fear. Such a simple touch was more than most of Derek’s family had given him in the last week, a mix of fear for him and fear of him.  Derek found himself touching the spot on his shoulder a lot that first day. -- “Hale, are you even trying?” Coach called out after Derek missed his third 3-point shot in a row – something he was usually very good at. “I know you’ve got personal stuff, but if you wanna stay on the team you need to get it together.”  Anger flared in Derek because how fucking dare Coach try to reduce Paige’s death to nothing more than just personal stuff. He resisted the urge to growl but turned towards Coach, hands clenched at his sides, ready to fight when suddenly his view was obscured. Jordan, beads of sweat dotting his brow, had stepped between Derek and Coach, one of his hands outstretched. “Take a breath,” he said softly. “He’s always like this, remember?”  “I can’t do this.” Derek said, shaking his head and spinning away from Jordan, jogging towards the locker room despite the calling of his coach and teammates. Angry tears burned in his eyes when he got there, sitting down heavily on one of the benches and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to stem the flow. “Derek.”  Derek jumped, and then had to laugh because for fucks sake he was a werewolf, no one should be able to get the jump on him like that. “Let me guess, Coach wants me back out there?” Jordan dropped onto the bench next to Derek and shrugged his shoulders. “No idea. I didn’t wait to find out.” He nudged his shoulder into Derek’s. “Are you sure you’re ready to be back.”

“No,” Derek said, the most honest he’d been about the situation. “I have no idea if I’m ever going to be ready to be back.” “Is there anything I can do?” Jordan asked. Derek noticed that he hadn't moved away since the shoulder bump, his body a warm, constant weight against Derek’s shoulder. “I hate seeing you like this.” Derek turned to Jordan finally, ashamed of the tears in his eyes but also comforted by the open, honest smile of the other boy. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “It’s gonna be okay, Derek.” Jordan said, before he slowly – so, so slowly – brought his other arm up to tug Derek into a somewhat-awkward side-hug. “You’re gonna be okay.” Okay. That word had been thrown around a lot in the last week or so and Derek hadn’t believed it. But, in that otherwise-empty locker room, with the muffled sound of Coach’s whistle in the distance, his face pressed awkwardly against Jordan’s shoulder, he might have believed that Okay was possible. -- Derek kissed Jordan without thinking about it two months later. They were sitting in Derek’s bedroom working on algebra homework and laughing about things Coach had said at practice the day before. There was a big game this weekend, so they’d both agreed to sit and get as much homework done as they could.