Okay. Stop typing. Just - rest. Don't move. I'll be there soon.
[ Any other night, Derek would be going out of his way to hide the sound of his boots crunching over dry leaves and dead branches, but he's impatient and anxious and these woods feel safe enough that he just - doesn't bother keeping an eye out for danger. He walks a little faster, and then he jogs, and then he runs, and when he finally, finally gets to the treehouse, he practically has to skid to a stop beside Tate's body, kicking up dirt and hurting his heels.
He drops to his hands and his knees and shuffles in close to Tate, wincing when he sees the state of him. His eyes are still red, and he's not really thinking about the effect it might have on Tate - he just needs to see him as closely as he can. He smells blood, and that's-- bad. Derek holds his hands out to Tate, gingerly, like he wants to hold him and doesn't know how to do it without making things worse. ]
Easy. Easy, I'm here. What-- what happened? Where does it hurt?
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Stop typing. Just - rest. Don't move. I'll be there soon.
[ Any other night, Derek would be going out of his way to hide the sound of his boots crunching over dry leaves and dead branches, but he's impatient and anxious and these woods feel safe enough that he just - doesn't bother keeping an eye out for danger. He walks a little faster, and then he jogs, and then he runs, and when he finally, finally gets to the treehouse, he practically has to skid to a stop beside Tate's body, kicking up dirt and hurting his heels.
He drops to his hands and his knees and shuffles in close to Tate, wincing when he sees the state of him. His eyes are still red, and he's not really thinking about the effect it might have on Tate - he just needs to see him as closely as he can. He smells blood, and that's-- bad. Derek holds his hands out to Tate, gingerly, like he wants to hold him and doesn't know how to do it without making things worse. ]
Easy. Easy, I'm here. What-- what happened? Where does it hurt?