[Tate doesn't protest to being pulled along, showing no signs of resistance until his heels are sinking into the wet sand and water's washing up and threatening to lick at his shoes. But after that beat of hesitation he continues forward, letting the cool water soak into his jeans and wrap around his feet in a way that makes him feel solid again. He looks up to Derek while this goes on, following his gesture with his eyes and staring off at the darkening waters.
That beautiful, limitless expanse. He swallows hard - staring in silence. His hand shakes but it's not from the pain or the cold, he's jittery for a thousand other reasons but his fingers relax and his shoulders slowly slump. He looks out at the horizon line, the divider of the water and sky and then he closes his eyes. Just listens to Derek, while tilting up his chin.
It's what he wants, to be taken care of. To be given this gift of freedom and while it may not scratch the same itches Kavinsky can... Derek's promises make him want all the same. He blinks open his eyes and then wipes at them hastily with his free hand, wiping away tears that fell loose all on their own.
It's never going to work. But he smiles, just weakly, for the thought.]
I should've asked you first. I'm sorry. If... you get frustrated with that still, I'm sorry.
[ Derek won't take his eyes off of Tate. He's watching him in silence, absorbing every minute shift of his expression, shallow waves crashing against his legs and drenching his jeans all the way through. There's a part of him - a small, unrealistic part of him - that just wants Tate to say something magic and easy that'll fix everything, make it all better.
But he won't. He can't. Can't break his contract, can't turn back time. Derek learned, after the fire, that hoping for easy outs is just - cowardly. Tate looks at him like he doesn't believe him, and that breaks Derek's heart, but - again - he knows there's no easy way to convince him that this could work. That this will work.
He doesn't push it. ]
I don't get frustrated. I get scared.
[ But it's - fine. This is a dead horse. Derek shakes his head, stepping forward, treading water as he walks. Again, this is such a human fucking problem, and he doesn't know if he'll be able to help Tate the way he wants to, but if trying is all he has, then - trying is all he has. Derek reaches his hands out, tugging lightly on Tate's wrists. ]
[Tate turns his wrist around so their palms brush, and then extends his other hand as requested to match. He's still not sure standing out here in the water's what he wants to do but it'd be a lie to say it isn't somehow distracting him from the bigger picture, clearing his head. Hard to stay focused on bitter black tar in your chest when water's licking at your legs, and the thrumming urge in your chest wishes to just completely submerge you in that refreshing rock of the waves.
Derek says he's scared not frustrated, and Tate frowns but keeps nodding.]
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That beautiful, limitless expanse. He swallows hard - staring in silence. His hand shakes but it's not from the pain or the cold, he's jittery for a thousand other reasons but his fingers relax and his shoulders slowly slump. He looks out at the horizon line, the divider of the water and sky and then he closes his eyes. Just listens to Derek, while tilting up his chin.
It's what he wants, to be taken care of. To be given this gift of freedom and while it may not scratch the same itches Kavinsky can... Derek's promises make him want all the same. He blinks open his eyes and then wipes at them hastily with his free hand, wiping away tears that fell loose all on their own.
It's never going to work. But he smiles, just weakly, for the thought.]
I should've asked you first. I'm sorry. If... you get frustrated with that still, I'm sorry.
no subject
But he won't. He can't. Can't break his contract, can't turn back time. Derek learned, after the fire, that hoping for easy outs is just - cowardly. Tate looks at him like he doesn't believe him, and that breaks Derek's heart, but - again - he knows there's no easy way to convince him that this could work. That this will work.
He doesn't push it. ]
I don't get frustrated. I get scared.
[ But it's - fine. This is a dead horse. Derek shakes his head, stepping forward, treading water as he walks. Again, this is such a human fucking problem, and he doesn't know if he'll be able to help Tate the way he wants to, but if trying is all he has, then - trying is all he has. Derek reaches his hands out, tugging lightly on Tate's wrists. ]
Give me your hands.
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Derek says he's scared not frustrated, and Tate frowns but keeps nodding.]
I don't want to make you scared.