[Tate says with a voice that feels like it was put through a steel grinder, arms pulled under his face so he can rub it up against them before shakily pushing up onto his elbows. He just stays there for a moment, uncertain like a newborn deer that's only just gotten its legs under it. He doesn't know what to do next but he's still refusing to acknowledge the bucket, even if he does feel like hurling would be nice to do.
He should be dead three times over by how much shit he did last night, so when he looks up to Derek he blinks at him with tired eyes and then gives up. He collapses back onto the bed, but rolls over onto his side, facing him. Head lolled sideways on the bed, so he doesn't have to hold it up. The room's no longer spinning or oozing blood, so that's nice.]
How long have I been here?
[He can't tell. He doesn't even know what time it is now, or really remember how he got to this place. Is it Derek's? He knows that he knows the answer to that, but his brain's struggling to come up with it. All he can think of is the pulsing music from the party. Insistent. Continuous. And infiltrating his every thought. He groans and rubs at his eyes, complaining quietly about his head hurting under his breath.]
no subject
[Tate says with a voice that feels like it was put through a steel grinder, arms pulled under his face so he can rub it up against them before shakily pushing up onto his elbows. He just stays there for a moment, uncertain like a newborn deer that's only just gotten its legs under it. He doesn't know what to do next but he's still refusing to acknowledge the bucket, even if he does feel like hurling would be nice to do.
He should be dead three times over by how much shit he did last night, so when he looks up to Derek he blinks at him with tired eyes and then gives up. He collapses back onto the bed, but rolls over onto his side, facing him. Head lolled sideways on the bed, so he doesn't have to hold it up. The room's no longer spinning or oozing blood, so that's nice.]
How long have I been here?
[He can't tell. He doesn't even know what time it is now, or really remember how he got to this place. Is it Derek's? He knows that he knows the answer to that, but his brain's struggling to come up with it. All he can think of is the pulsing music from the party. Insistent. Continuous. And infiltrating his every thought. He groans and rubs at his eyes, complaining quietly about his head hurting under his breath.]