[Derek releases Tate's wrist and he tentatively takes it back, curling his fingers around it as if to rub it although it wasn't squeezed. Then he just rests it in his lap, sitting cross legged with a soft, quiet shift. His eyes fall downcast as the words ring in his head, like the hit of a gong each time. He doesn't like being told he's not polished, even if it's in regards to his anger. He feels defensive, especially when he's called dangerous. It's then he looks back up, quick and sharp.]

I don't want to be dangerous.

[His voice stings and the honesty is there, even if it comes with a dull realization that some things about him may never change. He's not going to be the sweet, kind and friendly kid his mother wanted him to be. He's always going to have this leeching darkness in him and the sooner he embraces that fact, the sooner he can at least work on dealing with it. But he doesn't want to. He wants to be better.]

I don't want to hurt people. I'm not - don't call me that, okay? I just...

[His voice hitches.]

I just want to belong.