[It's - more slaps to the face for Tate, even if he's heard the words already and knows where Derek's coming from. Why should he trust Tate? Tate can't come up with an answer, not easily, but he still looks stretched in response to being told he's not believed. It hurts, it's evident, because his eyes shutter and glean with a wet show of tears and his lips turn to a very thin line. He crosses his arms defensively, looking away, nostrils flaring as he tries hard not to lose his cool.

Then he scoffs, humorlessly, wetness coming from his eyes being rubbed off on his knuckles. He's turned from the first response of being startled at the confrontation to now just being offended. One sided? One sided? Tate looks at Derek, eyes narrowed.]

I don't know what you want from me. I promised you no lies. I've told you how much... how much I missed you. I come to you first with my problems and - isn't that being pack? And you still... you're telling me you don't trust me. You don't want me around. You want so much from me but you're telling me it's not enough at the same time. How am I supposed to trust you'll ever really want me? How am I supposed to feel like you - like this place is safety if I...

[He sniffs, rubbing at his eyes again. He shakes his head.]

Nevermind. It's fine. I don't give a shit. And I'm not hungry, so.

[Fuck you and your pasta. He cracks open the beer can instead, taking a long swig.]