[ Reggie. Derek's not surprised that this is where Tate's mood lately has come from - but he's not sure how to combat it. Derek rolls onto his side, too, his ear on his arm, folded up beneath his head like a pillow, his other carefully withdrawn from Tate's tattoo. He can sense it, now, more than he already did. The acidic chemosignals in the air, the accelerated heartbeat. Signs of jealousy that Derek doesn't know how to talk down. ]

Tate...

[ He's buying time, saying Tate's name like he has any idea how to follow it up. The stretch of silence goes on long enough that Derek worries if he doesn't say something soon, Tate will just get frustrated and leave. It's pressure, really, that has him saying what he says next. ]

I have feelings for you. Feelings that I don't have for anyone else. You're in a league of your own.

[ Romantic feelings, they're a part of this, sure, he doesn't think he's dropping too big of a bomb by finally putting words to that - but worry, too, a possessiveness and a need to make sure that Tate's okay. An unhealthy obsession with Tate's safety, a concern for him that overrides sense due to a loyalty thats been worked into him through crying fits and thoughts of death and threats of what Tate's life would look like if Derek wasn't there to try and fix it. Toxicity in droves, but - he doesn't worry about Reggie half as much as he worries about Tate. That's gotta mean something. ]

My relationship with him is different to my relationship with yours. You're the one I'm signed with.