[ Derek just - breathes it in. The sympathy, the perceived sincerity, the complete and total lack of judgment. The understanding. The kindness. He needed this. He needed this, but fuck, he sure as shit didn't deserve it.

He nods, emphatically, a display of unbridled, enthusiastic emotion that he doesn't ever really let slip between the cracks of his constantly practiced stoicism. Tate sets his hand against his own and Derek quickly squeezes back, putting his other palm over the back of Tate's knuckles to just - hold him with both, hold him as tight as he can. He's still nodding, because he doesn't have the words to express how he's feeling - that this is part of why Tate's so important to him, and that this is why he's ultimately too afraid to lose him.

Tate's angry, and he's made mistakes, and he doesn't trust himself, and Derek already knew all that, and he just-- he doesn't have a choice. He can't lose him. Can't ever give up on him. Couldn't bear it if people gave up on him. Won't be able to bear it, when it happens back home. ]

I know - you're doing better. I've seen it. You're caring, and you're kind, and you're a good, good person. I'll remind you of that for the rest of my fucking life, if I've got to.

[ Just - stay, and do the same for him. ]