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The phrase ‘it says more about that person than it does about you’ has never made any sense to Derek. It doesn’t reassure him and it doesn’t solve anything; the sentiment is useless.
He’s heard it multiple times, directed at his siblings. Like when Spencer first skipped a few grades, joining Derek in high school, and he was being picked on by members of the football team. And when a boy had made a rude and dismissive comment towards Emily and her friends. Or when a girl intentionally slide tackled JJ during a soccer game when she didn’t even have the ball. Penelope had even parroted it back to Dad when he was complaining to Papa about his boss at work.
It’s never been said to Derek, though. He’s never admitted to, or went to his parents for help about, being bullied. When he was small he used to come home with the odd scratch or bruise but he’d come prepared with excuses, though he could tell no one was actually buying them.
They never brought it up, so neither did Derek. Now they assume it’s stopped, and it’s a fair assumption.
He’s older, bigger, and stronger. He’s on the football team, he’s popular, he’s keeping his grades up. He’s fine. He’s Derek.
Well, he wishes they wouldn’t assume. He wishes they could magically read his mind and find out what’s happening to him, find out how he really feels beneath the false bravado, because there’s no way he could admit it. He knows it’s illogical and he knows it’s stupid, but he can dream.
“Derek?”
On the other hand, he knows why this is a secret. He knows why he’s kept the crushing weight of this to himself. He let this happen to himself and he’s ashamed. He’s dirty and stupid and pathetic, and he knows if his family found out they’d think the same.
Then, back in the system he goes. And for good reason, too. Not even Coach Buford would want him if he had nothing going for him anymore. He told Derek that his talent was a part of his charm. He wouldn’t be special anymore.
“Derek, are you okay?”
His dad’s voice unwillingly drags him back to reality, reminding him of the maths worksheet in front of him. Frequency tables, he groans. Then he remembers the question he was asked and nods almost immediately. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Was just thinking.”
Aaron looks at him disbelievingly but doesn’t poke any further, instead turning back to the dinner cooking on the stove. Dave is working a case, leaving Aaron to make dinner.
Spencer shuffles closer to Derek’s seat, curiously looking at the problem his older brother had spent the past ten minutes stuck on. Derek purposely moves his arm to try and cover the question from Spencer’s sight, but with the speed at which his younger brother could read it was too late.
“Do you need any help?” Spencer offers genuinely, looking up at Derek.
Derek shakes his head, avoiding lifting his head up. “No thanks.”
Sensing the lie, Spencer drones on. Derek takes a deep breath, ‘he only wants to help’. “The median probably is the hardest to work out, but it really isn’t that hard. Did you learn what a cumulative frequency is? It’s a running total of how many values there are. It’s the easiest way to figure out the median.”
“I don’t need help, Spencer. Just because you’re in advanced classes doesn’t mean you’re better than me,” Derek retorts, scribbling nonsense on his page in an attempt to look busy.
“Derek,” Aaron warns.
“Well, technically it does, doesn’t it? If we were on the same level we’d be in the same classes—”
Aaron, not wanting an argument to break out, interrupts Spencer. He knows Spencer doesn’t mean to come off as belittling Derek, but that’s definitely how it sounds and how definitely Derek will interpret it. “Spencer, can you go get your sisters? Dinner’s almost ready.”
Spencer shoots a challenging smile to Derek, who doesn’t return it like he normally would. “Do you think you can handle finding the 25th value of a frequency table while I’m gone, Derek?”
He doesn’t like to yell. He hates yelling and he hates being yelled at, but the months worth of pent up shame, guilt and anger come flowing out before he can stop himself.
“I didn’t even ask for help, Spencer! I don’t need it and, honestly, I don’t even want it. Not from you. Maybe if you could read the room, or be a better brother, you’d realise I’m not in the mood, and we wouldn’t even be here!” Derek grabs his books and papers and scrapes his chair back against the floor, pushing himself up.
Spencer’s frozen in place, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. His eyes are starting to gloss over and Derek has to force himself to look away. Aaron’s looking between him and Spencer, not knowing what to say or now to de-escalate the situation. He’s abandoned plating up dinner in favour of putting his full attention on his two sons.
“Derek, that’s not fair,” Aaron finally speaks, aware it’s probably not the best thing to say.
“What?” Derek whips around, tears starting to build up in the corners of his eyes now, stinging from being held back. “And him making fun of me is? Just because he’s the favourite he can do whatever he wants?”
“Derek, you know that’s not true,” Aaron tries to assure, stepping forward. Derek immediately flinches back.
“Do I? Don’t bother making me a plate, I’m not hungry,” Derek bites back accusingly, storming out of the room.
His outburst has attracted the attention of Penelope and JJ, who were previously in the living room playing. They’re standing outside of the kitchen, looking in with fear and confusion.
Derek storms past them into the bathroom, feeling his heart break as he does. He hadn’t had time to shower after getting home from practice, from seeing him, since he was told to do his laundry, then to do his homework, now this.
He’s so stupid. Spencer was only trying to help. He’s only eleven. He resists the urge to punch a hole in the bathroom wall or smash the small mirror with a completely different person staring back at him - he can’t cause any more damage than he’s already created.
He opts for frantically removing his clothes, eager to get any reminder of his Coach off him physically. He can’t count on mentally or emotionally, though.
He stays in the shower way longer than necessary, the water purposely scalding as to remove all feeling over his body. That way he can’t feel Buford’s hands on him, not until the next time they’re alone together.
He moves straight into his and Spencer’s room as soon as he’s done in the shower, thankful that it’s empty.
He drops his towel carelessly on the floor, throwing on a t-shirt that really should have been done with his laundry and, for once, pyjama bottoms. Right now he wants nothing more than full coverage.
To avoid talking, he grabs his phone and headphones to play the first playlist he comes across. He turns the volume to full blast, climbs into bed, and prays that he’ll actually fall asleep.
He doesn’t sleep. He can’t. Not with all the disruptions.
The first person to try and talk with him is Spencer. He knows it’s Spencer without opening his eyes because the light is immediately switched back on.
He wants to hear his brother. It’s the least he can do after treating him so horribly, so he turns his music down but still keeps his eyes closed.
“Derek? I’m- I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, really. Dad doesn’t know I’m in here, he told me to give you space, but I feel bad. I’m sorry I make you feel- uhm, stupid? Lesser than? I don’t know how to accurately describe it, if I’m being honest. I can’t speak for you and your feelings. I’ll give you the space to do your own work at your own pace, but- but please don’t hesitate to reach out if you ever do need help. With work.” You know I’d be happy to.”
Spencer wanting him to open up goes unsaid, but both boys pick up on it.
Derek feels the guilt crushing him. He’s only a kid, the smartest kid Derek’s ever met, and he’s apologising for something that’s not even his fault.
“It’s not your fault,” is all Derek says, keeping his eyes shut - even tighter now to keep his tears at bay.
Spencer shuffles in his spot, clearly believing the opposite. “Isn’t it? I caused you to yell, it’s my fault. I just- if I ever do something annoying or demeaning I want you to tell me. You’re my brother, and- I’m sorry for being a bad one.”
Derek’s the bad brother. He yells, acts out like a petulant child, and storms off without an explanation and he’s meant to believe that Spencer’s the bad brother? Spencer is eleven and more mature than him.
Derek clears his throat, wiping at his eyes. “Leave me alone, Spence,” Derek manages, wanting this to be over. He hopes the nickname is a clear indicator that Derek isn’t mad anymore, but that he just needs to cool off.
Spencer nods. “Of course. Yeah, of course.”
He turns off the light as he makes his way out.
When Derek lived with his mother and his sisters, they’d always turn to religion in crisis. Specifically his mom, who got her children into the habit.
Derek always had his doubts. If God was real, why did he let Derek fail his spelling test? If God was real, why did he kill Dad? If God was real he was cruel and Derek would never forgive him. Not after taking his father, then for separating him from his mom and sisters.
He misses them everyday. He wonders what they’re up to and how they’re doing. What are their interests? What do they want to be when they grow up? Would they blame everything on him? Would they look at him with disgust if he revealed what he was going through?
But no amount of love towards his biological family could get him to turn to religion again. He can’t bring himself to mutter a short prayer under his breath or step foot in a church, not after how God targeted him mercilessly.
He wonders if this is his punishment for turning his back on Christianity.
Dad tries to talk to him next, just before he puts Spencer to bed. Spencer and Penelope must be brushing their teeth from the bustling he can hear coming from the hallway. They’re (well, Penelope) is raging on about Doctor Who, but Spencer is uncharacteristically quiet.
“Derek? Are you feeling up to talk, buddy?”
Derek is angry at himself. Aaron had the decency and kind heart to take him in when no one else wanted him. Aaron knew he was a troublemaker, knew he didn’t trust easily, knew how reckless he was, and yet he and Dave still adopted him.
And this is how Derek repays him? He throws a tantrum, he acts out, he’s ungrateful. He should be thrown out, punished, something.
Derek just hums indifferently, letting Aaron know he can continue talking if he so wishes, but he’ll be remaining quiet. Aaron takes a slow breath and swallows.
“I didn’t handle the situation properly and I’m very sorry, but I really hope you’ve realised how your actions have affected us, too.”
He doesn't need to tell Derek twice.
“We want to help, but we can’t if you won’t tell us what’s going on. Nobody blames you. Not Spencer, not me, not your sisters. We all have our days, and you’re allowed to have days where you’re upset, but- but I hope you know that if there’s something bothering you I’m always here. If there’s something upsetting you or stressing you out, you can tell me. You can tell Dave, you can even confide in one of your siblings. We just don’t want you going through anything alone. No one deserves that.”
“There’s nothing bothering me,” Derek lies, wanting the conversation to be dropped. He feels the urge to scratch at his skin, openly cry, show his emotions. He so desperately wants to contradict his words and let his family know something is wrong. He wants them to help even if he can’t (won’t) directly reach out.
“I know,” Aaron replies hesitantly, knowing something is wrong. He’d never push Derek to talk about it, though. He’ll be told when Derek is ready. “But, if there ever is. I want you to know our love is unconditional, no matter what. We’ll always love you and we’ll always be a family.”
Derek sniffs, turning away from Aaron. “I will. If something is wrong.”
Aaron smiles sadly, only replying with a whispered, “good.”
The door clicks shut once again and the bathroom light flips off. He hears the shuffling of feet. Before he can turn the volume of his music up again, he overhears the conversation going on outside of the door.
“Is Derek okay?” He hears Spencer ask, voice dripping with concern and guilt. ‘He blames himself. You warped an innocent eleven year old’s mind when he didn’t even do anything to hurt you.’
Penelope repeats the question, worded slightly differently (“Please tell me he’s okay?”). When their dad doesn’t respond both children seem to grow more worried by the silence.
“He’s okay,” Aaron replies, the plastered smile on his face clear from his tone. “He’s asleep, I think.”
The house is quiet now that everyone’s asleep. The soft lull of Spencer’s calm breathing is almost enough to send him to sleep, but not strong enough to overpower his regret and guilt.
He wants to sleep. He wants to be well rested for the morning, to start afresh and apologise to everyone. He wishes it was that easy, that he could just close his eyes and he’d fall into a peaceful sleep.
Feeling restless, he clambers out of bed. His throat is scratchy and he hasn’t moved around any since he got into bed. His legs cramp for the first few steps, but are relatively fine by the time he gets to the kitchen. He reads the clock hanging on the wall. It’s around 2:50am.
He holds back a sob by coughing and practically drowning himself in a glass of water. He really needs to apologise, and he wishes he could do it now, but he’d just be considered a bigger problem for waking everyone up at almost 3 in the morning. He takes a loud sniff and wipes his eyes before turning around to leave the kitchen, maybe even go out for a run—
The front door clicks open and Derek freezes in his spot. Hearing how softly and considerately the door is closed, he can tell it's Dave coming home from his last case.
“Derek?” A confused voice whispers from the doorway. That’s not Dave—
“Emily?” His voice cracks and he tries to subtly clear his throat. “Uh- hi.”
“What are you doing up?” She asks suspiciously, inching closer to him. Instead of facing him, she opens up a cabinet and rummages around for something to eat.
Derek shuffles in his spot, staring down at his feet. “I could ask you the same thing. Where were you?”
Emily laughs, grabbing a chocolate biscuit and taking a bite. “It’s different for me, c’mon. I’m 18, I can do whatever I want.”
“That’s not what Dad says,” Derek retorts under his breath.
Emily rolls her eyes. “Since when do you listen to Dad?”
It hits Derek then, how bad of a son he is. He doesn’t listen, he acts out, he rebels, he lets this happen to him. Derek hasn’t even told him about what’s going on, who Coach Buford really is, he hasn’t offered an explanation.
“Woah, Derek, hey, what’s wrong?” Suddenly Emily’s in front of him, but he can’t see her because his vision is clouded with tears and his only focus is how he can’t control the heaving of his chest.
He shakes his head, stumbling back from her. “I’m sorry- I shouldn’t- I- go to bed, Em.”
It’s Emily’s turn to shake her head, slowly approaching her brother. “It’s okay, you don’t need to apologise. Can you tell me what’s going on?”
He scribbles his hand over his cheeks, willing for the tears to stop. When Emily is close enough, he lets himself fall against her, lets her wrap her arms around him in a tight embrace.
“It’s okay, Der, I promise. You’re with me - it’s Emily - you’re not back there.”
Derek just shakes his head - no, it’s not that. It’s much worse, it’s so bad. I wish I was back there, anywhere but here.
“I can’t hear you,” she says soothingly, running one hand through his curls and the other along his back.
He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “He’s gonna send me back, Em. They all hate me, I’m no good—”
“Woah, woah! Slow down, what are you talking about? Who’s sending you back?” She lightly pulls Derek back to look him in the eyes. Her heart breaks at how scared he looks.
“Dad,” he breathes out, like it’s obvious.
Emily’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Dad wouldn’t do that, Derek.”
“I yelled, Emily! At him and at Spencer. I didn’t even apologise - they apologised to me. Neither of them even did anything wrong, it’s all my fault—”
“Derek, hands up,” Emily coaxes softly.
Derek didn’t even realise his hands had made their way up to his hair, gripping and pulling on it in stress. Being the first two kids in the house, and both being relatively young, Derek and Emily had helped each other overcome their fears and nightmares together. One of those ways being Derek’s simple ‘hands up’ for when he started pulling on his hair. He’d done it much more when he first joined the family, not so much any more. In fact, Emily hasn’t seen Derek this bad in years.
Slowly, Derek holds his hands up in front of him. Emily nods reassuringly at him with a small smile.
“Derek, let me tell you, Dad and Papa aren’t just going to throw you out. Ever,” she starts walking out of the kitchen, confident Derek would follow. “Hell, have you seen some of the things I’ve done? Way worse than yelling.”
“Way worse?” Derek asks worriedly.
“I’ve come home drunk, do you not remember that? You and Spencer were trying to investigate from the hallway with your new spy kit,” Emily reminds, laughing at the memory. Derek can’t help but crack a smile, too.
“Point proven, I guess,” he admits, joining Emily on the couch.
She stares at the blank TV screen, hesitating to ask her next question. “Can I ask why you yelled?”
Derek bites down on his bottom lip. “I can’t tell you.”
“You can tell me anything. You know I won’t snitch—”
“No! Because- because it’s way worse than yelling, or coming home drunk, and it’s all my fault, too. No one will ever forgive me,” he rushes out breathlessly, moving away from Emily. He can’t let anyone know, he’s too strong and independent for that. He can handle this by himself.
“Derek,” Emily floats her hand on top of his, and when he doesn’t flinch away she intertwines their fingers. “If you explain what’s wrong, I can help. I can tell Dad—”
“You can’t tell, Dad, Emily. You can’t,” he panics.
“Okay, okay,” she slows down, nodding in an understanding manner. “I won’t. Are you going to tell me?”
Derek shakes his head immediately. “I can handle it myself, I promise. I’m just scared.”
“It’s okay to be scared. It happens to everyone.”
“I know. I know, it’s just- why am I scared if I started it?” He looks up at Emily, eyes wide and glossed with tears.
“If you did start it,” Emily starts, clearly not believing it’s her brother’s fault. “Fear is triggered by a- a threat stimulus, so you can still be scared.”
Derek chuckles, “I didn’t know I was talking to Spencer.”
Emily grins, “he’s the one who told me that. I was nervous about going on a date with a guy.”
The silence hangs in the air for a while, not that either of them mind. It’s not awkward, it’s comforting and it’s real. Derek can appreciate that.
“Thank you, Emily. It seriously means a lot,” Derek says sincerely, leaning against her.
“Anytime. We’re all here for you, understand?” She asks seriously, squeezing his hand.
“Copy that,” Derek murmurs.
Derek finally feels that he’s able to rest, growing tired already. His head falls to rest on Emily’s shoulder, his eyes drooping closed as he lands.
“Love you, Em,” he whispers.
Emily smiles, “I love you too, Derek.”