[ Tate... cries. This isn't the first time Tate's cried in front of Derek. Won't be the last, either, as much as Derek wishes he didn't have to see him like this, but - this is the first time it... actually feels kind of good.
Derek had thought that Tate's obsession with Violet was... well, that it was shallow and pathetic, back when he thought the two of them were normal, innocent kids. He had assumed they were in love the way he had been in love with Paige, the way Scott had been with Allison. Weak, lifeless. "In love" because they didn't know any better. In love because of-- proximity, and nothing else.
But now he knows that Violet was normal, and overwhelmed, and that a dead kid with anger issues and thirty-something years of loneliness and heartache and restricted, violent depression under his belt was probably too much for her to deal with. Derek can't blame Tate for falling in love with the first person he could, after being so alone for so many years. After needing love as badly as he did when he was alive. He can't blame Violet for being a normal teenage girl, either, but - but he was too much for her.
He's not too much for Derek. Derek knows what Tate's like. Derek needs him all the same. It feels like Tate's crying because - because he understands that, maybe. Maybe he feels relieved, that Derek's still saying that he wants him. They've talked a lot today, but-- but Derek came pretty fucking close to cutting him out. It's good, that they're away from that, and understandable, maybe, that Tate's still standing on shaky feet.
He sighs, lets Tate cry it out, and he drops his hand away from Tate's throat, over his chest, his stomach. He lets go, lets his hand hang limp down by his side, and he feels this hollow, lonely sympathy in his throat. ]
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Derek had thought that Tate's obsession with Violet was... well, that it was shallow and pathetic, back when he thought the two of them were normal, innocent kids. He had assumed they were in love the way he had been in love with Paige, the way Scott had been with Allison. Weak, lifeless. "In love" because they didn't know any better. In love because of-- proximity, and nothing else.
But now he knows that Violet was normal, and overwhelmed, and that a dead kid with anger issues and thirty-something years of loneliness and heartache and restricted, violent depression under his belt was probably too much for her to deal with. Derek can't blame Tate for falling in love with the first person he could, after being so alone for so many years. After needing love as badly as he did when he was alive. He can't blame Violet for being a normal teenage girl, either, but - but he was too much for her.
He's not too much for Derek. Derek knows what Tate's like. Derek needs him all the same. It feels like Tate's crying because - because he understands that, maybe. Maybe he feels relieved, that Derek's still saying that he wants him. They've talked a lot today, but-- but Derek came pretty fucking close to cutting him out. It's good, that they're away from that, and understandable, maybe, that Tate's still standing on shaky feet.
He sighs, lets Tate cry it out, and he drops his hand away from Tate's throat, over his chest, his stomach. He lets go, lets his hand hang limp down by his side, and he feels this hollow, lonely sympathy in his throat. ]
C'mon. We should go.