[Tate's suddenly so, so tired. He'd been tired before all this started - standing up there on the platform looking up at the stars he could see through the trees, feeling serene and happy for a change. He was going to curl up and sleep, maybe read a bit by pocket light but then he fell. And the adrenaline kicked in, a burst of white hot alertness that's now slowly fading like the pain from his arm.

He starts to lean back again to pull away, touching his hand to Derek's before looking up at him - imploring him to let go. Tate'll heal fast enough - his head no longer rings, all the superficial cuts and bruises are ghosts of what they were. His arm hurts and maybe it'll take a bit longer, but he can work through that alone.]

I don't - I don't know? I wasn't stupid or fucking around, it doesn't make sense. Nobody was around, it was just me. And I'm - I haven't smoked or taken anything, I promise.