[Tate feels like if he asks about any shred of proof of that, Derek's certainty will dissolve. Does he know anyone that has come back? Has anyone ever come back? Tate doesn't know, doesn't know how to begin to look into it and he's. Tired. He's stressed. And the second he's started to deflate from the teary eyed panic, that tiredness has washed in over him and made him feel as cold as his skin really is. His teeth chatter and he keeps his face planted against Derek's chest, trying to fight off having to pull away. The tactile run of Derek's hand over him is everything - he wishes he could just curl up and fall asleep to it, were he not drenched and shivering.]
I... I don't want to.
[Okay, that's just his last little petulant whine, his voice thick as he murmurs the words against Derek's chest. Then, finally, he presses his hand to Derek's shoulder and leans back to break away. He's not crying anymore, but his face is splotchy and his eyes red. He's still soaked through and retched looking, hair mussed and a dullness to his eyes. Distance sits in the way he looks off to the side, lost in his own head.]
She has nothing to go back to. She should've stayed. She deserved to stay.
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I... I don't want to.
[Okay, that's just his last little petulant whine, his voice thick as he murmurs the words against Derek's chest. Then, finally, he presses his hand to Derek's shoulder and leans back to break away. He's not crying anymore, but his face is splotchy and his eyes red. He's still soaked through and retched looking, hair mussed and a dullness to his eyes. Distance sits in the way he looks off to the side, lost in his own head.]
She has nothing to go back to. She should've stayed. She deserved to stay.