[Derek does it for him and Tate's grateful - he melts against him at the slightest pull, like a stubborn child, exhaling with a shudder as he presses his forehead to the center of Derek's chest. Soon after that he shifts, cheek to his shoulder as he leans more flush to Derek, one arm loosely wrapping back around him as if still uncertain about accepting the contact. He needs it, though. He needs the energy, absorbing it with a weak sigh as a hand over the back his head threads through his hair, making him feel six years old again and so fucking happy to be doted on.

Tate listens as Derek lays out the plan of what they can do together - together - to move forward and he feels the sting of salt in his eyes again, but for a different reason. There's a lot to do, a lot he'll get caught up in doing, but he needs to first get over the unfairness of his situation and he's - not ready to do that, not yet.]

Do you think she will? Come back. Will she even remember?

[Does it matter? It's not like he had success in convincing her he wasn't anything but a monster.]

I know I'm supposed to move on. I know. I'm trying - I just. I didn't think she'd go. I never had to think about losing her before. But it hurts.