Chapter Text
"Listen, sweetheart," Derek's mom's voice droned on from his phone's speaker. "I know that you're not a fan of this... situation, but he's been getting better. Really. Or... trying to, at least."
"Yeah, I'm sure he's told you that."
She sighed loudly. The noise crackled. "Please, Derek, just..."
"I know what you're going to say, and you said this last time, too." Derek responded as he began scrambling his eggs - god, it was too early for this. Far, far too early. "I'm trying to build my life, mom. If you want to let him ruin everything for you, fine, but I'm not going to let him show up and ruin things for me just because you asked nicely."
"He really wants to see you, Derek." She said quietly.
Derek pressed his lips together tightly. "I'm sure."
"He does. You're all he talks about. He... He really misses you, you know?"
"Mhm."
"All he talks about is the good old days. The two of you used to be inseparable. Your dad and I... Neither of us could argue with the two of you, when you were together. You wanted to do everything side by side."
"Uh-huh." He opened up his drawer, reaching for one of the bowls he had been bothered to actually wash during the last week of hell that he'd been thrown into. It made a clanking noise as he placed it on the countertop. "Yeah, that was almost twenty years ago, mom. He's done a lot since then."
"I know, sweetheart, I know." Her voice became tense; pleading. Derek felt his shoulders tighten. "And it's up to you, in the end, what you want to do... I only think, well... Life is too short to throw away your relationships with those who matter, you know? And Hastur, well... He's family."
Derek shut his eyes. Counted to five. Inhaled through the nose, exhaled through the mouth.
His voice, unfortunately, was still dripping with what he'd hoped would remain hidden anger as he managed to say, "He threw that away, mom. I didn't. Just because he suddenly wants to repair it doesn't mean that I have to want the same thing."
She was quiet for a few beats. Then, softly, she said, "I understand that, Derek. I do."
"Okay." He swallowed, throat tight. "Then can we leave this conversation alone? It's the only thing we've talked about this past week."
"Oh..." Derek could almost hear her running through her mind to try and find something to convince him - absolutely nothing would. "Oh, okay, sweetheart. If... if that's what you really want, then okay. I only ask that you think about it. Please."
Derek sighed. He could physically feel his nerves fraying. "Okay, mom. Sure. I'll think about it."
It was a lie, of course, and they both knew it.
Neither of them said that out loud.
Derek's relationship with his brother hadn't always been this way.
His mom wasn't incorrect. There had been a time where they were - what had she called it? - inseparable. It wasn't the relationship, either, where Hastur —the older, stronger, more authoritative sibling— bullied Derek into doing his deeds for him. They had never existed in a space such as that one. From the moment Derek had been born, Hastur had been all he'd known; there for every first accomplishment that Derek made. Once upon a time, they'd done everything together. From pranks on their parents to their school homework, one was never found without the other. To see such a thing would be an anomaly. They'd been fiercely loyal to one another from the very beginning.
How had things changed?
That was a longer, and much less satisfying story. One that Derek didn't enjoy dwelling on.
What mattered to him was that they had changed. That was what he focused on. Not the why, or the how - those were questions that could never be answered, because Hastur certainly hadn't been around to answer them when he'd severed himself from the rest of his family. The facts were simpler. The easiest wound to heal. It didn't matter why Hastur had left, what mattered was that he had. Derek had lost his older brother, and he was gone. That tie was cut. It would never be repaired. When he thought of it that way, there was no underlying sting; no sorrow; none of that odd, awful grief that comes in the midst of betrayal, because when Hastur had left, that had been a betrayal. Instead, it was the anger. Burning as brightly as a meteor, at first, and then stilling, cooling, until it became nothing more than a rock. Uncomfortable, always there, but something he could manage.
Something that he could bear.
As long as he kept it that way, it didn't matter to Derek. His brother leaving was an old wound, barely a scar if he never took the time to look at it (and obviously, he never did); something that he could move on from.
At least, that was what he'd thought.
Until his brother had come running back.
Again, and again, and again.
And Derek had hoped, once - once, and only once. The first time it had happened. He'd thought, maybe things can go back to normal, and, my older brother is back, for the entirety of a week before Hastur took that carefully repaired trust and, once more, tore it to shreds.
He hadn't made that mistake again.
And despite whatever his brother was doing now, he never would.
Derek Hutchins lived a fairly boring life.
Boring not meaning entirely unenjoyable, but rather not whole-heartedly satisfying. He lived in a small, vaguely dingy apartment, paying his rent with money he'd saved from the multitude of jobs he'd worked as a teenager, as well as what he was making now as a freelance programmer. He spent his spare time reading, working on spare projects, and playing video games, and, he was never short for company, as he had a pet cat named Romulus that he'd adopted, two months after he'd moved, living with him.
On paper, he should've been very happy.
Unfortunately, he was not.
Not entirely, at least - he simply often found himself very bored. For the most part, though, he was beginning to wonder if this was an issue with himself rather than one of life. His mom would have agreed entirely with such a sentiment, having stated that she didn't think "anything can satisfy you, Derek." after he'd first breached his plans to leave Harvard, too uninterested and unsatisfied to force himself to continue for the sake of education. Derek didn't mind the thought, though, not really. Even if it was an issue that had everything to do with him, that meant it was entirely in his own ability to fix it. And he would. Just because he wasn't easily entertained didn't mean that he couldn't find something, or craft it with his own hands, if need be, that would entertain him. He would - he just needed time.
And, well, working from his parents' house, after leaving Harvard? The option felt slightly limiting. He didn't want to give them the wrong impression about his plans. He wanted them to trust that he wasn't throwing away his future for no reason.
So, he moved out for the second time. On this occasion, though, it wasn't to a student accomodation. He found an apartment that he liked, rented it, moved in, and had been living there with Romulus for the past year and a half.
Other than the boredom, he had very few issues. Sure, there was an occasional leak in his apartment, or his heater would stop working, or one of his locks would break, but that was the extent to which his problems went. Well, that, and the internet connection, but the less said about that issue, the better.
Unfortunately, considering the predicament it had led him to, there was quite a lot to say about that issue.
See, Derek had chosen his apartment well. It was cheap, small, and there was fairly good security. Additionally, hardly anybody bothered him, which was something that Derek, very far from a social butterfly, remained grateful for constantly. Unfortunately, when his decision had been made, and all his checks had been done on the internet provider that the apartment block used, as well as how efficiently it worked, there had never quite been a warning for the sudden change that they would make from a perfectly fine provider to one that was, well...
Derek had, and he wasn't embarrassed to admit it, put up a bitter fuss.
Unfortunately, as their new provider was cheaper, the apartment block wasn't willing to make the change.
And, on account of Derek's tendencies to remain alone, he didn't exactly have the friends to begin a petition asking them to change it.
There were other apartments. Of course, moving was a possibility - a smart one to look into when the entirety of his job relied on access to his computer, and thus, access to the internet. But, though this apartment block had shown one of its downsides, it had upsides that Derek couldn't exactly ignore. The most prominent of all of them was that it was pet friendly, while many other apartments were very strictly not.
Derek wasn't going to give Romulus away. That wasn't ever something that he could bring himself to do.
And the cat, a senior one when he'd been adopted, wasn't exactly good with change. Something that he and Derek slightly had in common. Derek wasn't willing to risk anything when it came to Romulus's health.
So, after long and rigorous consideration, as well as endless searches for new possible apartments that were near enough that moving may not cause any stress, Derek made the reluctant decision to stay exactly where he was. For the sake of Romulus, and that was a good enough reason for him.
That, and the coffee shop right next-door.
For a coffee-shop, the internet connection was ridiculously good. Derek discovered it the day of the provider change in his own apartment, as he'd gone next-door in hopes of getting a better signal so that he could email his first complaint directly to the owners of his apartment block. What he'd been expecting was something good enough to send an email; what he had found, to his great surprise, was a connection better than the one he'd had before the change in provider.
Safe to say, as time went on, Derek became a frequent customer at 'the Beanstalk'. It was a quaint place, mostly filled with older customers who would sit and chat at the tables for a few hours, that every worker knew by name. It had bookcases filled with fairy tales, an ode to its name, as well as the regular myths and legends that Derek could admit he would have enjoyed, if he actually spent any time reading them rather than working. Instead, Derek's days there were spent ordering a flat white every two hours, and then a green tea for the hour in between, going home for a brief lunch, coming back, and working from what was practically opening until closing hours.
This, in itself, was not an issue.
It shouldn't have been an issue.
Except, well...
"Hello, you!" The bane of his existence, holding a flat white, approached his table. "It's great to see you again."
They saw each other almost every-day.
"Here's your coffee. What are we working on today?"
We are not working on anything, Derek thought, his teeth grinding, I am working, and you should be doing the same.
However, as it was a bright seven in the morning, and Derek was the only person there except for the one worker that Derek really disliked (mildly put), there was not much work for Avery to do.
Avery was — how could Derek put it? A nuisance. He was the most social person that Derek knew, which wasn't entirely difficult, as Derek didn't exactly know many people. He constantly felt inclined to chat for ages with Derek, leaping through any hoops and hurdles to have even the semblance of a conversation with someone who hardly put any effort into responding. He didn't know Derek's name, because Derek had refused to give it despite Avery asking, and so he always called him, 'you' in that excited, sociable tone. The only reason that Derek knew Avery's name is because the workers all wore name tags on their uniforms, and because, though he hated to admit it, Avery was the only server that Derek both detested seeing and quite desperately required, because somehow, he had an absolutely excellent skill at making coffee.
Flat whites weren't difficult to make. To Derek, it seemed frankly ridiculous that someone could make them better than somebody else.
But the ones that Avery made were — as unfortunate as it was to admit, divine.
And he knew this, because he could taste when Avery's colleagues had made it for him. Obviously, he never complained, —their coffees were still good— nor did he ever ask specifically for Avery, —god, no— but it was a prominent and quite unavoidable fact that Derek liked the ones Avery made the most, and, over the year, this fact only continued solidifying itself. It didn't matter if new workers came to the Beanstalk. Avery, quite clearly, had something of a stupid talent for his coffee-making. He'd heard others remark on it as well, and each time, Avery smiled bashfully and only said he'd "had a lot of practice" before quickly moving on, so it wasn't only an opinion that Derek himself held. No. It seemed fairly universal, across the web of Beanstalk customers, that it was Avery who was the favourite.
This fact, unfortunately, didn't make it much easier for Derek to share this opinion.
Why did Derek detest Avery so much? Well, that was difficult to answer. Despite his own time he'd spent both pondering and reflecting this exact question, he couldn't quite find an answer to it. Derek wasn't one to detest anybody. He disliked people, often, but this was a vague feeling that slipped away quickly, as soon as he was able to remove himself from the person's presence. Because, at the end of the day, that was the thing. Derek didn't stick around to those he didn't like. It was a waste of time. He cut people from his life quickly, and, to be fair, there were never really that many people to cut off to begin with. Derek preferred it that way. He liked his own company well enough, and he wouldn't allow himself to sit in discomfort simply because somebody in his life was causing him trouble — he didn't care enough about other people's opinions to be afraid of letting them go.
Maybe, then, it was the proximity; the fact that Derek didn't have a choice to cut Avery off.
He and Avery were nothing, really — there was actually nothing to cut off, which was the most ironic thing. But Avery existed, as he did, and he took up a dislikable amount of space within Derek's life. This wasn't something that Derek could avoid. Sure, he could tell Avery that he would prefer another worker, but then he'd miss out on the best coffees he'd ever had. To him, the trade-off seemed unfair, and not one he was willing to make when he hadn't been able to find any coffee shop that didn't mind him sticking around for so long, and had such good internet.
So, though Derek didn't have to set aside his dislike for Avery, he couldn't cut him off either. Instead, it just simmered within him, an irritated feeling that had soon led to Derek, quite irrationally, detesting Avery more than he'd expected to.
"Just... programming. Same as usual."
"Oh, sick. You know, I seriously have no idea how you do it. I mean, I play video games, so I've always been around computers and all that, but coding and programming takes so much patience. I can't imagine how much time you have to put into this all for it to work."
A lot, Derek thought wearily, and I'm wasting some of it now, talking to you.
"I mean, it's my job."
Avery laughed, and the noise was so... buoyant. Derek couldn't help but wince. "Well, yeah, but still. Doing something so complicated, whether or not its your job, must be tiring."
Derek shrugged. "I guess so."
"Well," Avery said cheerfully. "I won't disturb you for any longer. I'll be back around with your green tea in an hour, though. Oh! And, we have some new baked goods that we've been trying out. Just experimenting, you know. We've been thinking of adding more seasonal stuff to our menu. I know you don't usually have anything to eat, but some of these are really good. You don't seem like someone who would have a sweet tooth,"
What, because you know me so well?
"But, I mean, obviously, that's just me guessing," He laughed again. "and, if you do, some of these are really good. You could try some out. On the house, of course, for one of our best regulars."
Oh, god.
"That's..." Derek swallowed, narrowing his eyes. "really nice of you to offer." As soon as he paused, he remembered to add a quick, "Thanks."
"Yeah, of course. So, how would you feel about a matcha brownie with the green tea, roughly an hour from now? We wanna hear what the customers think, and I can imagine you'll be honest with us."
Derek could have said no. He probably should have.
But, for whatever reason (most likely, the fact that with everything going on, his appetite was getting smaller and smaller than usual in the mornings, and he'd had to leave his scrambled eggs in the fridge after one bite), he sighed and said, "Yeah. Sure."
Avery beamed. "Great! See you in an hour, then. Good luck with your work!"
"Yeah." Derek responded, half-heartedly. "Thanks."
And that was his issue.
Avery.
(Well, really, he had a few other issues in his life, all family related, but those weren't ones he was thinking about. Those were ones that he was doing his absolute best to avoid, in fact.)
Avery was a lot. And yes, a few conversations here and there weren't truthfully that much of an issue, even for someone who was an introvert like Derek was. However, for some strange reason, Avery irked Derek more than anybody had in his life. Derek found himself constantly aware of the man; constantly waiting and seeing for when he might approach the table, already predicting exactly how the conversation would be going. What irked him more was probably the fact that he didn't entirely know why, because even he knew that proximity wasn't a good enough excuse. Derek wasn't one to dislike people easily, because nobody was important enough to grate his nerves.
Somehow, though, Avery was.
And Derek, well... Derek couldn't quite figure out why.
It didn't matter. Not really. He had far bigger things to worry about.
For a freelance programmer, Derek was in quite a lot of demand. He'd managed to create a good reputation for himself after completing a few jobs, and suddenly, through word-of-mouth, it seemed as though he had another job offer every day. The time-line of the projects had a very large range. It really depended on who was hiring him. Derek took on whichever jobs he knew he could manage, and declined any that would cause the quality of his other projects to suffer. He was quite nit-picky, but when he was becoming well-known and sought after, he felt that he had the right to be.
The job he was focusing on that day was his hire for a video-game project. This, arguably, he took on due to his own passion for video games, rather than for the pay or time-line. The idea of the game intrigued him, and the person making it was very adept at what they were doing, especially in regards to character design, but could occasionally get confused when it came to the programming. That was where Derek came in, because if there was anything he had experience in, it was—
"Here we are!" Derek was yanked out of his thoughts, much to his dismay, by the voice of Avery. He hadn't even noticed him approaching. "One green tea, and one matcha brownie. On the house."
Derek blinked, and Avery grinned at him.
"Try it! Let me know what you think."
"Oh, I'm—" Derek looked back at his screen, eyebrows pushing together, "a bit... busy."
"You've been working non-stop the past hour, man. I don't think you looked up from your screen once." Avery laughed. "Might be good to have a quick break, no?"
Derek stared at him.
Avery's grin just widened. "Oh, go on. Try it. I wanna know what you think."
No, Derek thought, instinctively, and because Avery was being so persistent that he should, Derek wanted to be just as stubborn in his refusal.
He'll leave you alone quicker if you just eat it, a voice in his head supplemented.
Derek paused, hesitating.
Then he shut his eyes, oh, whatever.
The quicker he got this over with, the better.
Grabbing his fork, he cut off a corner of the brownie and bit into it, not expecting anything too incredible.
But it tasted, well—
Incredible.
He chewed slowly, debating his next tactics. If he told Avery that he enjoyed it, that could easily open a gateway of new conversations that Derek did not want to be involved in. On the other hand, if he told Avery that he disliked it, or, even, was neutral about it, he ran the risk of being interrogated as to why, which would only waste more of his time. And yes, he could tell Avery to leave him alone if that happened, —and he wasn't exactly opposed to the idea— but he was unsure if Avery was the type of man who would see Derek's unfriendliness as anything other than him having a bit of a bad day. He was ridiculously positive, and almost stupidly kind. He'd leave Derek alone, yes, but it wouldn't be a permanent solution.
Arguably, the only permanent solution would be leaving the coffee shop and not coming back.
And Derek wasn't doing that.
"So? Thoughts?"
"Uh," Derek paused, swallowed, made his choice. "Yeah. It's good. Really good."
"I thought so too!" Avery exclaimed, and wasn't that just— incredible? Their opinions matched on something — Derek was about to rejoice. "I didn't take you for someone who'd be a big fan of matcha, though. I mean, I can't really say much, I'm not one. I just really like the brownies."
Derek took another bite of the brownie. "I wouldn't say I'm... a big fan. I've never really considered it."
"Well, I can make a killer matcha if you're ever wanting to try some drinks instead of baked goods." Avery responded. "Not that I'd really know, 'cause I have to base it on what people have told me. Same goes for the coffee, though."
Derek paused. "You don't... drink your own coffee?"
"Nah. Not a coffee person." Avery tilted his head. "Why? Is it good?"
You know it is, Derek thought to himself, at the same time as he felt the grip of infuriation that he had even asked — why was he continuing this conversation?
Finally, he settled for a hesitant, "It's okay."
Avery raised his eyebrows. "Huh. Anything I can improve?"
"No, it's—" Derek swallowed, feeling as though he'd just swallowed a sour lemon.
A look of pure smugness crossed Avery's face. "Oh, so it's good?"
Infuriating, infuriating, infuriating.
"I forgot you'd be the type of guy who says something's okay when he really means great."
"If you already knew how good your coffees were, why ask?"
"I like getting confirmation. And thank you, by the way. I appreciate you saying they're good."
Derek stared at him, unimpressed.
Avery's smile kept growing as he stared back.
"I have work to do." Derek said, finally. "So maybe now might be a time to get back to work, and see if some customers may want any more of those so-called 'incredible' coffees?"
"Hey, you said it, not me!" Avery laughed. "Alright. I'll be back in an hour. Enjoy the tea!"
He wouldn't, after such a heinous interaction, but whatever — at least he was finally alone, at least he could finally work.
And perhaps Avery got the idea, or perhaps it was because the Beanstalk was oddly busy for a Monday, but, though he came with Derek's hourly drinks, he hardly bothered him further than this. A few jests, a few jokes, a few of those regular offhand comments that Derek had gotten used to in the year that he had, in his misfortune, come to know Avery — nothing more. Derek was able to get work done, go home; have lunch, return, and finish his tasks for the day nearly an hour before he'd expected to.
He could have the evening to himself, which, considering the state of everything recently, was something he found himself grateful for.
He thought of what he might do while paying the bill and walking home. Romulus always liked to have at least an hour where he could be in Derek's company, and Derek usually used this time to play some of his more chill video games, so that Romulus could lay on his lap without the risk of any disturbance. Other than that, though, he could get to reading. He had a long list of things he wanted to get through, and looked forward to a relaxing night where he could do so. He liked to call his parents some evenings, to check in, but with how things were right now... Derek thought it might be for the best to avoid that activity for a little while. Until things went back to normal, at the very least. His thoughts moved swiftly to dinner. There were a few leftovers, and he didn't want those going to waste, but...
His phone dinged.
Derek paused in the middle of his walk home.
Half the time, his notifications were emails from clients, the occasional routinely spam, all things that he was used to. Things that he could respond to when he was home, or tomorrow, even, if they weren't hugely urgent. He'd worked hard today. He deserved a break.
There was no reason to check. Not really.
But for whatever reason, Derek felt compelled to.
And so, he pulled his phone out from his pocket and glanced down.
It was a message. From an unknown number.
Derek stared down at it for a moment, feeling his gut twist in this odd, almost painful way, before finally unlocking his phone to see who it was.
Spam, his brain thought, helpfully, or a new client, or something.
Somehow, Derek knew it wasn't.
As soon as he'd heard the ping! he'd known it wasn't.
And there, when he finally read it, was the exact message he was dreading.
[unknown number]: hey Derek, it's Hastur. Please can we talk?