Work Text:
They’re sitting in a coffee shop. It’s not his parents’ house, it’s not his apartment, it’s not even a coffee shop he’s been inside with Phil before.
It’s someplace new.
A neutral place, his therapist would call it. A place where there is no fear of territory being encroached.
Meeting with his parents still strikes a deep sense of dread within Dan, but he can breathe a little easier knowing that they aren’t invading his apartment, his home.
Dan’s mother stirs her tea absentmindedly. She technically was not even supposed to be here. It was only on Dan’s request that she tagged along.
Dan stares into his own murky coffee. It’s dark, cloudy, and bitter – not that different from how he feels.
He’s tired of dealing with his parents one at a time, letting each say what they want about the other and leaving the burden of their multiple inconsistent truths for Dan to juggle.
He won’t do that anymore. He won’t needlessly take that responsibility.
“I’m glad you wanted to meet,” Dan says to his father who sits across from him with folded arms. It’s not true – he desperately wishes his father hadn’t contacted him at all – but he’s known from the outset that this conversation won’t be fully honest. He might as well start it off with a lie that is kind.
“Well, you don’t answer your texts, never pick up the phone that we’re paying for...” Dan’s father says gruffly. “We had no other choice.”
Dan winces. The monetary issue is a bit of a sore spot – what he wouldn’t give to be financially independent so that his parents no longer have that leverage over him. But he’s slowly making progress.
By joining Phil and the others to make Caves and Gardens, he’s kind of found himself with a second job. He loves working at the clinic and the work gives him structure and purpose, but the hours are short. That’s intentional. He certainly could ask to be put more frequently on the rota, but he knows his limits. Too much of the same transforms repetitiveness into mindlessness into nothing. Just the numb feeling that leaves Dan grasping at anything that can make him feel. He never finds anything worthwhile.
But Phil is. And what Phil offered was a perfect way for him to fill his time with interesting, meaningful work. His official job title is Continuity Supervisor, and he works primarily with Phil to develop and tweak tie-ins from the original game. He has also cultivated a rapport with PJ and helps him create magnificent color themes that grow with the characters in the new game. It’s a thrilling challenge to make designs that are innovative rather than imitative. He also gets to sit down at the piano every once in a while, tapping out new melodies, as he sits with Angie to find motifs from the Fall Whisperer soundtrack that can be hidden, deconstructed and inconspicuous, within the prospective music.
The job overall is incredible, and he is thrilled to have this opportunity. He still has to occasionally remind himself to breath when he becomes momentarily star-struck by these people he admires but who are also, somehow, his friends.
The job itself doesn’t pay, that was just too weird for Dan. Phil tried to negotiate – he even wrote up a contract – but Dan didn’t budge. He knows that Phil is probably right that it’s best to have employment details in writing, even if just in case his relationship with Phil goes south. But he wants to let himself be a little careless. To not think so much and just enjoy the moment.
It all balances out anyways. Dan isn’t salaried, but he also doesn’t pay rent or use his own money for groceries when he makes the rare solo Tesco run.
It’s a financial arrangement that’s unconventional, but it’s definitely not absurd. Dan is comfortable with it. But he doesn’t know how to explain the situation to his parents so that they’ll see it the same way.
He doesn’t want to go into all of the details, to share Fall Whisperer with them and let them see what it means to him. That part of himself is... sacred. And, to prevent that part of him from being stained with his father’s disdain, he needs to keep it secret. Impenetrable. Invulnerable. Opaque.
Although he has previously spoken about the game to his mother, he has since put on a facade of adulthood that implies he left Fall Whisperer behind. It’s not true, of course, that he needs to let go of those favorite pieces of himself in order to become an adult. But that conversation requires a level of trust he still hasn’t reached with his mother.
In order to protect his mother and be there through her struggles, Dan needed to hide himself bit by bit – first from her and then from himself – until the shell he presented actually became his identity.
The physical manifestations of the stresses in Dan’s life became the lens though which his parents still view him. And so, if Fall Whisperer reminds them of how defective they think Dan is, how juvenile they consider him to be, it’s not something he is willing to share. If they are so stuck in their delusions that they won’t accept the truth, regardless of what Dan says, then there is no reason why he should force himself to say it.
So, Dan sticks to the topic at hand: the guilt Dad is trying to impose on him for not always dropping everything according to his will.
Dan has gotten better at noticing all the subtle ways his father tries to take control of Dan and his emotions, but there’s a difference between recognizing the manipulation and being immune to it. That part doesn’t come as easy. That requires effort, practice, and therapy which have together helped him learn that there is a tactful way to show he won’t back down, to demonstrate that he won't cave to his father's every whim.
“I appreciate when we schedule our meetings in advance,” Dan says.
He doesn’t say it’s easier for him, he doesn’t say he can’t function otherwise, he just says he appreciates it. Like a good steak. Or a more suitable vegan alternative.
“Why? Because your schedule is so busy? We know how much you work, or, rather, don’t work.”
The retort is quick, like he’d already been planning to criticize before Dan even spoke a word.
It’s not particularly surprising, Dan recognizes. It’s one thing to battle when each side takes its turn to attack, like a poorly scripted fight scene in a movie. It’s a whole other challenge to fight to the top when the enemy already has their all of their bows drawn and ready to shoot.
But it’s okay because Dan expected this. Planned for it.
“Yes, I do have limited hours at the clinic. I recognize it’s not my dream job, and I don’t want focus too much on it to the exclusion of finding a more permanent placement.”
“Dream job.” Dad scoffs.
Dan knows he’s baiting his father a bit, and it’s becoming more difficult to hold himself back from saying something witty, something sarcastic, something harsh enough to pierce him right to the rotten core. Something like ‘Well, I know how much you like to work – staying extra hours, asking me to rush home to watch Mum instead of you going to check on her yourself… I just want to have the same level of occupational fulfillment.’ And, were he to pair that with the sweetest smile he could possibly muster, he knows his father would start to see red.
But that would be the coward’s way out; deflecting, manipulating, attacking. Dad might not be above all that, but Dan certainly wants to try to be.
So instead, he looks at his mother, and, somehow, through a silent connection that still doesn’t feel quite comfortable, he knows that she will back him up. And she does.
“That’s great,” she says. “Have you had any luck?”
Dan can feel himself start to smile, and he wishes, not for the first time, that he were better at hiding his emotions. He doesn’t want them to see how happy he is. He doesn’t want them to know what it looks like when his face lights up. They don’t deserve it.
He tries to tamp down his excitement and says, “Yes, I’ve found another job. I work for a game development company.”
“Game development – like video games?” his mother asks.
Dan nods. He doesn’t want to say anything else until he can gauge his father’s reaction. He doesn’t have to wait long.
“That’s the dream job, huh?” Dad sneers. “Getting coffee for some company that makes games for a bunch of kids?”
Dan bristles. He wants to argue, to fight back, to say he does more than get coffee and the company’s work is important. But, even more than that, he doesn’t want to give his father the satisfaction of getting him upset. So, he doesn’t say anything.
“You always did like video games,” Mum says. She smiles wistfully into her tea. Dan wonders if she’s made the connection that this company is that which made Fall Whisperer. He wonders if maybe she knows him a little bit better than he gave her credit for.
“Video games rot your brain,” Dad says, like it’s a brilliant new insight that hasn’t been repeatedly disproven. He raises his eyebrows and looks off to the side. “I guess like hires like,” he mumbles.
And, for some reason that Dan can’t quite understand, that feels like a win.
Maybe it’s because being compared to Phil, Angie, and PJ is somewhat of an honor – even if Dad didn’t mean it that way. Maybe it’s because, even if his father isn’t happy about it, at least he’s accepted that Dan has gotten his life together. Maybe it’s because Dan knows that biting words and wildly flung insults are the only power Dad has left.
“It’s going really well,” Dan says, pointedly ignoring his father’s remarks. “At this point it’s almost a full-time job.”
“That seems like a lot – working both this job and at the clinic. Are you sure you can handle it?” This time it’s Mum that speaks and, while it’s not said with his father’s scorn, it's just as disheartening.
It shows she still thinks of him as broken, even though, all along, it was her viewfinder that was cracked and hazy. She remains unaware that her distorted reality doesn’t exist beyond the edges of the frame. Dad only encourages that warped perspective, turning Dan into a scapegoat, into a problem.
He tries to do that now.
“Yes, we certainly don’t want you to get… overwhelmed… and have to move back home.”
For a moment, even though Dan knows better, his father’s tactics are effective. Dan bites his lip and starts to second guess his decisions. Is he taking on too much? Is it a bad idea to suddenly shake up the stability he’s been able to create for himself in search of something more?
He takes a deep breath. Steadies himself.
Dan knows what he wants, and, for the first time, he might actually have a shot at getting it. He’s not going to let his father – or anyone else – take that away from him.
“Actually, I did want to talk to you about moving out of the apartment” he says, and, maybe he’s imagining it, but he thinks he can see a glint in his father’s eye, like he’s already won this sadistic game of keeping Dan under his thumb. “I’ve found a really great place with some wonderful roommates.”
His father’s expression sours.
“I don’t suppose you think you can pay for it all, yourself, now that you’re this hot-shot with two jobs.”
Dan chuckles.
“That’s the plan,” he says cheerfully.
It’s getting easier to fend off his father’s barbs. But, now that he’s said all that he wanted to, there’s no reason to draw out this unpleasant experience.
“Alright,” he says, looking at the clock on the wall. He doesn’t bother to actually check the time – they could have been here for only five minutes and he still would be desperate to leave – “I should head back.”
“You’re leaving us?” his mother says, and Dan can’t stop his heart from breaking just a little.
Despite all they’ve been through, he still has a soft spot for her. It’s not easy to pull away from someone he loves – and who loves him – even when that love is not enough to prevent them each from getting hurt. Even when that love is not enough to prevent them from hurting each other.
“I’m not going far,” he says with a sad smile, “I’m just growing up.”
There’s a pause, as though they all feel the shift in their family dynamic and are taking a moment to adjust.
It’s Dan’s father who breaks the silence.
“Growing up doesn’t mean abandoning those who love you.”
He doesn’t sound combative, and Dan feels a pang in his chest when he considers that it’s possible his father might actually miss him. Their relationship is probably the most strained out of all of the twisted, taut strands of connection Dan’s weaved through the course of his life.
Perhaps there’s a path forward for them that doesn’t require they fully part ways. There might not be a way to mend the past, but Dan knows the future is always worth hoping for. And, if his father is willing to start opening up emotionally, Dan can try to not write him off.
So, he tries to listen with an open mind as Dad continues –
“You’ll never find love like the love of a parent.”
His words douse Dan in ice-water. Frozen fire burns cold in his veins and numbs his heart. There’s a brief flicker across his consciousness of ‘I should have known better,’ but he stops himself; having hope is never something for which he should be ashamed.
It has taken him so long to get to this point – to have hope and to see the best in people – that, if he were to start chastising himself every time his optimism led to disappointment, he’d undo all of his hard work over the past months and years. And he doesn’t want that.
He doesn’t want to shrink back into where it is undoubtedly safer but is also so much darker. This new life he has created, with Phil and friends and hope, is a fuller existence than he could have ever imagined for himself. But it’s a life that requires he be so incredibly vulnerable.
Dan knows, now, how to protect himself within this vulnerable space, how to stop himself from falling when there is nobody there to catch him. How to ensure that every relationship he maintains is healthy, beneficial, and worth the investment of his energy.
It’s a novel sort of concept. Dan doesn’t have to make himself available to the people who claim to love him just because they say they do. He doesn’t have to take the love he’s given just because that’s the only love he’ll ever know. He doesn’t owe it to his parents to make himself vulnerable just to show he is grateful for their love.
The only person he owes is himself.
It's as clear as crystal.