[Tate almost pulls away when Derek draws close, not because he fears him or wants to escape him but he's not yet ready to calm down. Derek plants his hand on him and Tate's still thrumming with energy, lips pulled tight into a grimace and his heels dug into the sand. He pulls back just a little, still wanting to move and shift, but Derek's second palm grounds him and keeps him in place. Tate struggles with whether or not he wants this.
He turns his head to dissuade Derek from tipping his jaw up and examining him, but after a moment he willingly obliges; nostrils flared as he looks up and away at the dark sky and stormy gray waters of the beach. He feels like the unsteady crash of the waves, hitting the rocks nearby with a heavy slap and crash. He's unsteady and unstable and he knows. His hands are balled into fists so tight he might make his palms bleed.]
I pissed him off and - we got into it.
[Not the most elaborate answer, but Tate turns his dark eyes slowly up to Derek's and stares into them - looking for his anchor. Not in the red of his headlights, but in Derek himself. He stares and he stares, and he seems to start to calm. Just barely, in tiny fractions.]
I don't want to go back I just-
[Tate's hit with another wave of hot fury, but it doesn't cripple him; he hunches forward, squinting his eyes closed and grimacing. He doesn't want to go back but in that same breath - he does. The addict that sits in his brain tells him that's the only way he's going to stay as high as he wants. It's in their fucking contract, so... if he just plays nice? Maybe...]
no subject
He turns his head to dissuade Derek from tipping his jaw up and examining him, but after a moment he willingly obliges; nostrils flared as he looks up and away at the dark sky and stormy gray waters of the beach. He feels like the unsteady crash of the waves, hitting the rocks nearby with a heavy slap and crash. He's unsteady and unstable and he knows. His hands are balled into fists so tight he might make his palms bleed.]
I pissed him off and - we got into it.
[Not the most elaborate answer, but Tate turns his dark eyes slowly up to Derek's and stares into them - looking for his anchor. Not in the red of his headlights, but in Derek himself. He stares and he stares, and he seems to start to calm. Just barely, in tiny fractions.]
I don't want to go back I just-
[Tate's hit with another wave of hot fury, but it doesn't cripple him; he hunches forward, squinting his eyes closed and grimacing. He doesn't want to go back but in that same breath - he does. The addict that sits in his brain tells him that's the only way he's going to stay as high as he wants. It's in their fucking contract, so... if he just plays nice? Maybe...]
I'm all out. I'm out.