confiscated: (⇀ cleaning up well)
Brooks Myers ([personal profile] confiscated) wrote in [personal profile] calloused 2019-03-10 04:49 pm (UTC)

I wanted to, but...

[After everything that happened, taking to Derek didn't feel accessible. Tate's pride was still wounded from blowing up, and although they haven't - and hopefully won't - address it, he doesn't know if he burnt those bridges he was building with the two of them. Derek and he were supposed to be able to talk, but Tate no longer felt confident what he said was truly between them. Not when he could see Stiles and Derek were close, with that hint of jealous suspicion.

He moves his arm and looks at Derek with one uncovered eye, low lidded and still glazed by the shit in his system. It's a blank stare because he's not sure how to open up to the notion of being taken care of when the last slap to the face still stings his cheek. Another night and he might've sat up to walk away to dispel this anxiety, but he can't even lift his head. He just grunts, shutting his eyes.]


I don't trust you yet. And you don't trust me. So I don't know if I believe you, but I want to. That'd be nice, for a change.

[He laughs weakly, without any humor.]

But I did warn you I'm a little fucked up.

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