[Tate listens and he gets it, sitting forward a bit and leaning to rest his elbows on his knees. He props up his chin on his linked fingers and looks at Derek, once again seeing him from this - upper angle and disliking but tolerating it for the sake of the moment. Derek has an affinity for the woods and that makes sense to Tate. And he talks about Tate's anchors, and... Tate sighs, lightly.

He leans back a little, looking at his hands and wringing them out as something to do while he contemplates his answer. It takes a moment before he looks back up at Derek, staring into his green eyes and finding a polarizing comfort in them - contrasted to the red, the complimentary hazel sedates and relaxes him.]

It's... It's not that it wasn't helping. It was.

[Tate liked it, at least.]

But I guess... I just don't want to hurt. To be the - the guy who has to think about blood or hurt himself to think straight. I'm tired of being the way I am and I want to fix it but I think part of that is... acknowledging that's how I am. Using it for now and... finding a better anchor when I'm in a better place.

[He hopes that makes sense; his brows pinch and he looks at Derek expectantly - he's trying to appease him still but he wants the reassurance as well. He doesn't like the way people talk about him, the way Derek and Stiles exchanged looks about him. Doesn't want to be the guy who inspires someone to step in front of their loved one to protect them but that is who he is.]

That works, right?