Chapter Text
The school mornings always started the same way, even when Avery wished for a small change. The bell would ring too loudly through the corridors, followed by the usual rush of students spilling out of classrooms and lockers like everything was suddenly urgent.
The noise never really changed— laughing, shouting and footsteps echoing against tile and in rare occasions, maybe some students cheering to others fighting to who knows what reasons.
Amidst the every five day chaos in every week of every month, Avery had gotten used to finding his way through it without really thinking. Or more specifically, finding someone through it.
Derek Hutchins.
Derek was always easy to spot. Not because he stood out in an obvious way, but because of Avery had already unconsciously memorized the possible places he could be at— every seat, every corner, anywhere.
He is usually at either the usual spot beside the window in the library, his locker or near the end of the hallway by the science building. He would be standing calmly beside his bestfriend Hastur while the two of them talked about whatever assignment or topic they were currently working on or bicker about if pigeons have governments or not.
Derek had always been like that— quietly focused, never loud, never lost, like he already knew where everything was supposed to go. Like he’s always two steps ahead of everyone else.
Hastur, on the other hand, talked enough for both of them.
Avery didn’t even realize he was staring until Valerie nudged his arm lightly. “Bro,” she said, voice flat but amused, “you’re doing it again.”
Avery blinked and immediately looked forward like he had been paying attention to something else the entire time. “Doing what?”
Valerie didn’t even hesitate. “That thing where you zone out and suddenly forget you’re in public situation.”
“People zone out in public, Val.”
“Oh, sorry. Let me put in into a better wording,” she said as she took and exaggerated deep breathe. “Looking at him, I mean.” She quoted.
“Looking at who?” Avery frowned.
“Don’t make me drop the name, bro. You know who.”
Avery sighed through his nose and shoved his hands into his pockets, walking a little faster as if it’d help him escape the conversation. Valerie matched his pace easily, because of course she did. She had known him long enough to know exactly which buttons to press.
“You always look at him first,” she continued casually, like she was commenting something basic.
“No, the hell I don’t.”
Valerie raised an eyebrow without even turning her head. “You literally slow down when you see him.”
Avery didn’t respond immediately, which was already an answer in itself. They walked a few steps in silence before he muttered, “You’re imagining things... and why do you always assume stuff. Me and him are just friends.”
“We’re already in our senior year for Notch’s sake. You ain’t slick. But whatever, bro— sure, just friends.” Valerie hummed, unconvinced, but didn’t push further. That was her thing— she knew when to stop pressing, even when she clearly had more to say.
“It’s just funny,” she said after a moment.
“What is?”
“How you’ve known Derek since you were kids, and you still act like he’s untouchable.”
That made Avery pause just slightly because she was right, and it wasn’t even something he could argue against properly.
They had known each other since they were kids. Elementary school was where it started, though even then, nothing about it was particularly defined. They weren’t close friends, not enemies either. Just… present in each other’s lives. Same classroom, same competitions more often than not and same teachers who liked comparing their test scores like it was a routine part of the curriculum.
In their class, Derek was always the one step ahead.
Not by a huge gap, not in a way that felt unreachable, just enough to make Avery notice. Only enough to make him want to close that gap, even when he didn’t fully understand why it mattered so much.
There were small moments that stuck in his memory more than they should have.
Derek handing him a pencil without saying anything when he forgot one.
Derek quietly pointing out a mistake in his work during review sessions like it wasn’t a big deal.
Derek finishing exams early and sitting there calmly while everyone else was still struggling, as if time didn’t apply to him the same way.
And then there was that one moment Avery never really managed to forget.
It was during a competition they used to take way too seriously back then. Avery had finally beaten him by a few points— something he had expected to feel like victory should feel like. Something loud and proud, something satisfying to thunk about.
But when he looked at Derek afterward, expecting something— frustration, disappointment or anger— he found none of that.
Instead, what Avery saw is a small smile. A smile that only lasted for a few seconds before Derek looked away. Almost like it wasn’t meant to be seen by someone else but him. Somehow, that moment stayed longer than the victory itself.
“You done?” Valerie suddenly asked, shaking him out of his train of thoughts.
“Done with what?” Avery asked back instead of answering.
“Flashbacking and everything.” Valerie chuckled as she hit Avery's shoulder.
“Why are you so weird?” Avery frowned.
“I just wanna tell you to walk a little bit faster or else we’re late for our next class.”
“Then why not just say that...” Avery whispered.
“Did you say something?”
“No, let’s just go.” he answered.
The two walked their way to their next class. As he entered their room, his eyes instinctively glanced to where Derek usually sits. Valerie only snickered at his actions. Avery went to sit at his seat just in time as their subject teacher came in.
High school didn’t change that dynamic much. If anything, it just made everything more defined. Derek stayed consistent— quiet, focused, always either studying or talking with Hastur. Avery stayed aware, more competitive in a way that didn’t feel as simple as it used to.
And sometimes, without meaning to, they ended up in the same space again.
Like right now.
After a half an hour of the teacher teaching, she announced an activity to be done in pairs.
“Alright,” the teacher said, flipping through her list without looking up, “Avery and Derek.”
Avery already knew how this would go before he even stood up. Derek would accept it without reaction, like it was already expected. And he did— glancing up briefly before returning to his materials like nothing had changed.
Avery stood and walked over, pulling out the chair across from him.
“Hey,” Derek said when he sat down.
“Hey,” Avery replied, a little nervous from the interaction.
The silence settled in— Derek already had his laptop open, document prepared, cursor blinking like it had been waiting specifically for them. Avery leaned in slightly, scanning the assignment.
They worked well together. There was no friction, no confusion, no explaining things twice. Derek would point something out, and Avery would adjust it without argument. Avery would type, and Derek would refine.
It should have felt normal, but it didn’t anymore— not when Avery was too aware of every small pause, every shift in distance and every moment that could have meant something and moments that didn’t.
At one point, Derek leaned in slightly to point at a section of the document.
“You missed this part,” he said quietly.
Avery followed his finger, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll fix it.”
Derek didn’t move away immediately. He stayed there for a second longer than necessary, eyes scanning the screen, close enough that Avery could notice things he usually didn’t allow himself to notice. Then he leaned back again like nothing had happened, returning to his usual calm expression.
And Avery hated how easily he could do that— turn what he feel like moments into nothing.
The worst part is Valerie snickering to the side while taking a picture of him (them),— before Hastur, her partner, quietly scolded her to lock in.
Lunch was louder in the way it always was, but Avery barely registered most of it. Valerie sat across from him, talking animatedly about something that happened in another class, her hands moving as she spoke like she was performing the story rather than just telling it.
“And then I heard that she literally argued with the teacher like she was going to win,” Valerie said, shaking her head like she still couldn’t believe it. Then she stopped mid-sentence and narrowed her eyes at Avery. “You’re not listening at all, are you?”
“I am,” Avery said automatically.
“Lying is not your domain, bro. You’re not Spoke.”
Avery exhaled and leaned back in his chair. “I’m listening now.”
Valerie studied him for a moment before sighing. “You’re thinking about him again, are you?”
Avery looked up too quickly. “I’m not.”
Valerie didn’t respond right away. She didn’t need to. They had known each other long enough that silence carried meanings.
Across the cafeteria, Derek sat with Hastur, speaking in a calm tone while Hastur reacted more dramatically beside him. At one point, Hastur laughed at something Derek said, and Derek— after a brief pause— let out a quiet laugh of his own.
It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t attention grabbing, it was just enough for Avery to notice— even though they sit atleast six tables away from each other.
Derek didn’t usually laugh like that.
Not when they were younger, not in elementary school, not when everything between them was simpler, or at least felt simpler in hindsight.
Back then, Derek had always been quiet. Focused. Observant. Someone who didn’t waste words unless they needed to be said.
Now he laughed sometimes, and Avery wasn’t sure when that changed.
Valerie followed his gaze briefly, then leaned forward slightly. “You really should just talk to him properly instead of staring from a distance like it’s some kind of hobby. Avery, bro, if you have no idea— this is actually very creep—”
“It’s not a hobby and I’m not creepy.”
“Then what is it?”
Avery didn’t answer.
Because he didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t just about Derek anymore. It was about everything that came before him, everything that stayed in place even when time moved forward without asking.
After school, Valerie walked with him part of the way home like she usually does. The streets were quieter than the school, but not silent. There were still people around— vendors packing up, students heading home in groups, cars passing slowly through intersections.
Valerie kept talking, mostly to fill the space between them, but Avery didn’t mind it as much as he pretended to. It grounded him in a way he didn’t realize he needed.
Avery listened in fragments, nodding at the right moments, laughing when it seemed appropriate, but most of his attention was elsewhere. It wasn’t that he was ignoring her on purpose—it just felt like his thoughts kept drifting in a direction he couldn’t control.
Valerie didn’t seem to mind. She rarely did.
At one point, she bumped his shoulder lightly. “You know,” she said, “you don’t always have to act like everything is normal.”
Avery glanced at her. “Everything is normal, bro.”
Valerie gave him a look, then smiled slightly like she wasn’t going to argue today. “Sure. If you say so.”
They reached the corner where their paths split, the familiar spot where conversations usually ended without needing a real goodbye. Valerie waved lazily before turning away, already continuing whatever thought she had been on earlier. Avery stood there for a second longer than usual, watching her leave, before finally turning in the opposite direction toward home.
The walk after that felt quieter. The sound of distant traffic replaced Valerie’s voice, and the occasional footsteps around him faded in and out as he moved further away from the school. Still, even without her there, Avery’s mind didn’t feel any less crowded.
It kept going back. Back to Derek sitting near the window in the library. Back to Derek’s voice during group work, calm and steady. Back to that brief laugh across the cafeteria that shouldn’t have meant anything but somehow did. Back to every small moment he didn’t have to remember— but did anyway.
Avery exhaled slowly as he adjusted his bag strap, staring ahead at the road without really seeing it. It would’ve been easier if it felt random. Easier if it felt like something that came and went like everything else. But it didn’t, it never really did.
Because the truth wasn’t something that suddenly appeared today. It had been there for a very long time and Avery just didn’t want to say it out loud. Not to Valerie, not to anyone, not even to himself when it mattered.
He kicked a small stone off the road, watching it roll a short distance before stopping near the curb. His thoughts followed it anyway, heavy in a way he couldn’t fully shake off.
“I’m not staring,” he muttered under his breath, almost like correcting a mistake but even as the words left him, there was no real conviction behind them anymore.
Because somewhere between childhood competitions, quiet shared spaces, and all the times he told Valerie she was imagining things… he had already stopped pretending he didn’t notice Derek, and worse than that— he had already started liking him a very long time ago. It only took him time to finally acknowledge it.