A/N: hi guys! this is my first fanfiction that's not from a book, and that's a bit weird to me but whatever. anyway, this take place a few seconds after the scene in Afterbirth when Mr. Harmon and Tate are talking, three years after him and Violet split.

plus, i'm sorry, but Tate cries a lot and i didn't really know how to execute that very well. D:

please enjoy!

"In 1994," Tate began, looking at Mr. Harmon's repulsed face, "I set my mom's boyfriend on fire. And then I shot and killed fifteen kids at Westfield High. I murdered the gay couple that lived here before you. And I raped your wife." He paused and let his heart sink in his stomach. It was the first time he had admitted his crimes to anyone in over a decade. "I'll tell you everything."

"I'm not your priest, Tate."

"I'm not asking you to be," he answered. Tears stung his eyes and the room's temperature began to rise. Prickling sweat began to cool on his forehead. "Can we just.. hang out some time?"

Mr. Harmon sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Jesus."

"Please, Mr. Harmon. Please. Talking to you really helped me. All I need is someone to talk to. Please."

"I have to think about it, Tate. I'm sorry."

Through blurry eyes, Tate blinked. And when his vision cleared again, Ben Harmon was gone.

"Dammit!" Tate pounded his fits against the floor of the Murder House. His built-up tears started to spill over. "Dammit!"

Head pressed against the floorboard, sobbing. Violet would never forgive him. Mr. Harmon didn't want anything to do with him. He couldn't look Mrs. Harmon in the face ever again. Nora was upset with him still for denying her the baby in the times shortly before the birth. His mother would never return to the House in fear for her new baby, and Hayden was out of the question. At least he had Beau, but his impartial understanding couldn't provide him with any conciliation.

If he was alive, he would have killed himself. Outside of the Murder House, of course. So he wouldn't have to live forever with this bullshit.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sobbed to the floorboards. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Tate?"

At the sound of her voice, he looked up. Even through the tears, she was unmistakable. The dark patterned dress. Purple. The yellow long-sleeved cardigan. Dark eyes brimmed with tears, looking down at him.

"Violet?"

"Is all that true, Tate?"

He nodded and stood up. He bit back sobs but the flow of water kept pooling rapidly in his eyes. "I'm so sorry Violet. I love you. I love you, I love you. I told you I'd wait forever for you to change your mind. And here I am."

Violet took a deep breath and crossed her arms. "Just tell me one thing, Tate."

"Anything."

"Why?"

"Why.. Why what?

"Why did you do it? Why did you kill those kids? Why did you murder all those people? The gays? The exterminator?" her voice was rising, "Why did you rape my mother?"

Tate's pain trickled to the floor in large sobs. Eyes rimmed with red he sniveled. "I… I thought I was saving them."

"Saving them from what?"

Tate took a step towards Violet and grabbed her wrist. She flinched, but didn't pull away. He pulled back her sleeve. "From this, Vi. From this goddamned darkness! You have to understand!"

"Bullshit! You didn't save them from the darkness, Tate," her tone was hard, "You brought them into it."

"I know. I know that now. I just.. Violet you changed me. I mean that. You did."

Resisting the urge to call bullshit again, she shouted, "you were going to kill that boy! That moved into my old room!"

"I was doing it for you!" Tate yelled, sobbing again. "I was doing it for you! You need someone! You're lonely, Violet. We all are! I am! Please!" he wiped his eyes, but no amount of upkeep could drown the grieving. "It's been three years, Violet. Please. Please. Please! I love you!"

"I know, Tate. But you have to stop. You have to stop! You don't get to decide people's futures!"

"I know.. I know. I.."

"Can I ask you another question though?" she interrupted. "Why didn't you just let me die? When I took all those pills? I mean, yeah I did die but I killed myself. You tried to stop me. You tried to make me throw them up. Why not just let me die and be with you?"

"Violet, I told you. I love you. And you were alive. I wanted you to be with me like this, believe me, but I couldn't let you. You had a life. And as goddamned awful as mine was, I couldn't let you take your own. Not like that. Not then."

Sighing, she pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "Come here," Violet opened her arms and Tate walked into them. His sobs dampened her shoulders but she didn't move. She even blinked back her own tears. Despite his frozen body, Tate felt warm against her.

"Okay, let's start over, Tate. I…think I can forgive you. If you promise never to kill anyone again."

"I know. I promise, Violet. I'll do anything!"

"Promise?"

"I love you, Violet. I promise."

"Okay."

Violet disappeared from under Tate. And before he could lose it again, she reappeared, this time, wearing her black fedora on her head. She extended her hand to shake Tate's. "Hi, I'm Violet," she said, smiling, "I'm dead. Wanna hook up?"

A/N: TOO MANY FEELS. a big EFF YOU to ryan murphy for making you feel such compassion for a character like tate. (no just kidding i actually love you)

originally i wanted this to be a dialogue-only story but that didn't work out so well. so sorry for the bland description in between conversation.

but ANYWAY, thank you so much for reading! seriously. please don't forget to drop me a review, or concrit maybe? thanks. :)