[ Not much of an answer. Derek doesn't know what's going through his head, but Tate seems kind of defeated. Resigned, maybe, might be the better word. Derek, again, feels like he's not doing enough for him, and that guilt eats away at him. Slowly, he takes his hand back. ]

You both play very different roles in my life. What I get from him, I can't get from you, and what I get from you, I can't get from him.

[ And that might not be enough for Tate, who seems pitiful and small in the wake of Derek admitting he loves Stiles, and that guilt eats away at Derek a little bit more. Maybe he shouldn't have said it. Maybe this is a sign that he's been right not to say it. Derek kneads his thigh with the heel of his palm, just anxiously looking for something to keep his hands busy. He still smells blood, just a little. ]

You're the only person I've invited to the den. The only person I will invite to the den. Making friends isn't... easy, for me, and I don't...

[ Derek drops onto his back, rolling onto his side. He should be wearing something other than his regular clothes - gonna be digging sand out of everything for weeks. ]

I don't want you to think I'm not treating this with the weight it deserves. Our friendship matters to me a great deal.