[ Derek listens. He listens, and he's suckered in. After spending all night with Tate, watching him writhe in his sleep, listening to his breathing go shallow and almost stop, watching him sweat and shiver and drift close to this-- fucked up, half-dead state that Derek can't describe, it's hard not to be swayed by him now that he's finally awake. ]
I didn't know I was doing that.
[ Finally awake and - upset, again. What the fuck is Derek supposed to do? Let him stay angry and isolated, when being angry and isolated is what lead him to getting high and hooking up with strangers somewhere hidden away in the down? He said he could have called Derek, but didn't. There's a distance here. Derek is sick of it.
He moves again, climbs onto the bed. He folds his legs under himself and moves as close to Tate as he can without invading too much of his space, and he holds his hand out, silently prompting Tate to hold out his own. He frowns, and he waits, and he drops his voice, keeping it monotone and flat. Like that'll make it easier to ask what he needs to ask. ]
no subject
I didn't know I was doing that.
[ Finally awake and - upset, again. What the fuck is Derek supposed to do? Let him stay angry and isolated, when being angry and isolated is what lead him to getting high and hooking up with strangers somewhere hidden away in the down? He said he could have called Derek, but didn't. There's a distance here. Derek is sick of it.
He moves again, climbs onto the bed. He folds his legs under himself and moves as close to Tate as he can without invading too much of his space, and he holds his hand out, silently prompting Tate to hold out his own. He frowns, and he waits, and he drops his voice, keeping it monotone and flat. Like that'll make it easier to ask what he needs to ask. ]
Tate - can we trust each other? I need an answer.