Chapter Text
There was one thing weighing on Derek’s mind as he spiralled into an architecture of vivid colors and shelves of overfilled knowledge, all attacking any semblance of coherent thought.
Avery.
As he wrote the letter, the King, the lumping moron, struggled to break free from fusing with a corrupted, impure mind. For a God, they sure were a nitwit. They should be smart enough to stop any futile attempt of putting a halt to the fusion.
Honestly, it's no surprise the creep was still stuck in a game.
Hitting the post button, he aimed his cursor at the windows logo on the bottom of the small screen.
Avery.
He had no regrets, he thought, as his eyes slumped almost shut, his vision waning to swirl into each other in a woozy daze.
Avery.
His parents had passed away long ago, while he was studying abroad. A car crash, he found out.
He discovered it a little too late.
His parents cared for him, they really did. But not once did they call or text him to ask how he was in college.
That was the level of trust they had in him, he figured.
Hospitals usually called a patient’s emergency contact or immediate family they had knowledge of, but his parents always lived alone - no friends, no contact with relatives.
Like him.
Once the hospital delved into their family history, they found out about him. They called his number 2 weeks after his parents’ deaths.
He didn’t cry.
Avery.
He was a computer science major, driving to become a coder for a famous company or at least his own game.
However, without his family’s support, he struggled with debt and deadlines.
He dropped out.
With his passion extinguished, he lived in depression for a specific amount of time.
His apartment was in disarray - clothes scattered everywhere, cups of noodles stacked in the dirty sink, dirt clogging up every crevice possible; hell, he even saw a rat in the corner of his eye once.
That’s when he discovered a game.
Minecraft.
It wasn’t a simple liking, it was pure obsession.
He made mod packs, shader packs, coded whatever he could add to the game, and everyone ate it up.
He went under a pseudonym - d3rlord3.
If someone asked him, ‘Were you popular in the Minecraft fandom?’, the answer would have been no.
No one cared enough to remember a random mod pack’s creator.
But nevertheless, he felt… alive.
His ambition that had been watered down sparked alive again.
Starting from that, he took a ton of coding gigs. If someone requested him to make something, he never questioned.
‘Hey, can you code a personal website where I can talk to Miku-’ Done.
‘Hi! My irl dog died and I wanted to remember him, so can you make it so that my Minecraft loading screen always has a wolf?’ Done.
‘I wanna talk to furry femboys in my game-’ … Done.
While the money he earned from those jobs were meager, he never really wanted for more. Though he was a naturally curious person, he didn’t act on them. He lived like a hermit, going out to get groceries or new clothes, but never leaving his safe den.
Avery.
Truth be told, he truly didn’t have anything to live for.
He had nothing ahead of him.
But Avery had so much ahead.
So he tore his eyes away from the screen, ignoring the blooming headache taking its place in the depths of his head.
With a limp and multiple sways in his movement, he trudged to the small mattress in the corner of his room.
Until darkness consumed him whole.
Derek Hutchins ceased to exist on January 1st, 2016.
Avery.
I’m truly, truly sorry.
I would have never imagined myself deceiving you.
I’m currently on my bed with a splitting migraine, and I’m undoubtedly dying, but I'll die without regrets... Or that's what I'd like to say.
The truth is, I do have one.
…
…
…
…
It's that I never got to know you.
—
When he opened his eyes, light had flooded every sense. He was cold, yet somehow sweating, and his nostrils flared with the smell of incense.
‘Ugh…’ He groaned internally. His limbs felt numb, if not aching due to prolonged unuse.
Forcing his body to push up, he squinted and scrutinized the lumps of blankets embracing him.
“What the fuck.” He swore.
The apartment around him felt alien - everything sharper, louder, heavier. The hum of the refrigerator, the distant car horns, the flickering of streetlights through the window - it all assaulted his senses.
He stumbled toward the door, hand brushing the wall for balance. His reflection in the mirror caught him off guard - he barely recognized the hollow-eyed boy staring back.
The version of Derek that had disappeared in 2016 felt like someone else entirely, like a ghost looking through his own body.
Outside, the world moved faster than he could process. People rushed past him, voices blurring into incomprehensible noise. Screens glowed everywhere - ads, phones, monitors - each one a little portal into a life he didn’t belong to.
“Is this… the future?”
He scrambled to pick up the phone he found on the nightstand beside the bed, glancing at the date.
January 2nd 2026.
It hit him like a truck.
10 years. Into the future.
He froze, fingers twitching, heart hammering. Not knowing why, not knowing how, but knowing.
He swiped up, a keypad staring right back at him.
He didn’t know the password.
‘1234… 4321… I can enter all the possible combinations but that would take weeks, if not months… And this phone…’
It was an iPhone.
Although he had no idea what the model was, he could assume that after 5 failed attempts of entering the password, the phone would lock for a period of time. After 10 attempts, it will lock completely.
It was a complete gamble, and he could only try to find more clues in this unknown place.
He lifted his eyes to his surroundings - observing, watching.
He could not find a mirror, and his features were indiscernible on the small black surface of the device he found.
It was a bedroom. A small red bed with creeper-pattern covers was tucked away in the corner with a small wooden stand next to it. There sat a fluorescent lamp that coated the wall and top of the stand in a dull, yellowish-green glow. A remote control laid beneath, presumably for the air conditioner.
Speaking of the air conditioner, it was freezing. He carefully took the remote control to examine it, and pressed the green button that blocked the air flow.
The coldness slowly settled, creating a much more livable ambience.
He let out an exhale that he didn’t even know he was holding in.
The stand had 2 drawers, both with dull, golden knobs that looked as if they were about to fall off with one harsh pull.
He gently pulled out the top drawer, finding nothing but crumbled balls of tissue. He picked one up to find snot that hadn’t dried.
‘These are recent.’ He concluded.
The next drawer held nothing, which he closed with a drawn out sigh.
Next was the desk, on which all kinds of paper littered and spilled onto the floor.
‘Com-sci papers… assignments… Bills…? Interesting…’
He sank into the chair in front of the desk, hands hovering over the scattered papers like a kid staring at a Rubik’s cube for the first time.
None of it made sense - formulas he didn’t recognize, handwriting that wasn’t his, bills with dates he didn’t understand.
Then he noticed a laptop, open but asleep, its screen reflecting the dim light of the lamp. Something about it… tugged at him.
He reached out, fingers trembling, and tapped the trackpad. The screen blinked to life, the login page glowing.
‘Derek’s Laptop’
He froze, eyes drawn to the name.
“Derek. Huh.”
For someone who knew all the knowledge of the universe, it seemed like many things could surprise him in this life.
He paused.
His fingers flew to each key before he could stop them, typing out the password.
‘0128’
His birthday - January 28th.
It unlocked.
Many things did not make sense to Derek:
Was this his own body?
Was this someone else’s body?
Was he dreaming?
Was all of that with Avery and the King in Yellow a dream?
If this was someone else, how many coincidences were there that his name was Derek and was born on the same day?
He quickly opened the camera application on the laptop, and a foreign, alien, face stared back.
All the features were wrong - the slant of the nose, the arch of the brows, the shape of the face, the color of the eyes. Honestly? Only the hair style was right.
His hair was messy and stuck out everywhere - a shag haircut. The strands of hair fell around his face in disarray, framing his face snugly.
His eyes were more narrow, and his cheekbones were slightly sharper. His face was slightly more rectangular instead of round, and he definitely looked much fitter.
He had, what most people called, a frail build. His old body hadn’t worked out much, much less even stepped out of his comfort zone. He wasn’t too thin because he cooked himself meals regularly, but nevertheless not fit in any way.
This body was more toned, though not muscular, and a bit taller, he guessed.
“Hm.” He hummed.
The contrast was stark.
He leaned back on his chair, hands coming up to rest against his face.
This was a mess.
—
Fortunately, he found a notepad on the computer in which the previous Derek noted down all his passwords and accounts. A security issue, if you asked him. Seriously, this guy was a Computer Science major, yet he wrote down all his account details on a notepad. How much more idiotic could he be?
He got that answer soon enough, when he discovered a stash of… inappropriate manga under the bed. He quickly threw those in a random plastic bag to throw away (or burn).
The smart choice would be to sell those things, obviously, since he still did not know what this Derek did for a living, but he didn’t think he could even bear taking pictures and posting them all on a sketchy website.
He looked through all his social media and messages, discovering many things about the previous Derek.
Full name: Derek Kenn
Age: 22
Birth Date: 28/01/2004
Relationship Status: Single (He didn’t know why he even noted this down.)
Job: Unemployed (Supported by parents)
Family: Flore Kenn (Mother), Asher Kenn (Father)
Friend circle: A loner (except one friend with the user serrr_vus, who he would have to look into later)
Relationship with parents: Extremely tight-knit, they video call every week (He would have to figure out how to talk to them so he wouldn’t be suspicious)
College: University of Plymouth
Major: Computer Science (Obviously.)
The apartment was overall small, but spacious. There was a bathroom with a small bathtub, which he used gladly to wipe away all the sweat that had clung during his frantic search. The bedroom was attached to a small kitchen, though the fridge was small and filled with energy drinks. (Would it be weird to other people if he suddenly learnt how to cook?)
He found mountains of cup noodles in the trash can, which he could understand, because he lived on cheap ready-made food from the convenience store during his college days. (It brought unwanted memories of when his parents had died.)
He wondered if he could achieve his dreams of truly graduating and receiving his degree.
But besides that, everything was normal for a college student. Piles of papers on and around the desk, clothes hanging loosely everywhere, and the smell of incense from a corner of the bedroom. (The incense would be seen as strange by a normal person, but nothing was normal about him, at this point.)
He figured out his college schedule, the times his ‘parents’ usually called, and the texting style the previous Derek used.
He also discovered ‘Derek’s’ likes and dislikes, which were a bit similar yet different to his own.
First of all, Minecraft. The bed had creeper-pattern covers, and there were small Minecraft figures that decorated the desk. He loaded up the game on the computer later, after much thought.
‘The King in Yellow is gone. I don’t have to worry.’ He whispered; whether or not it was to assure himself or to comfort, he didn’t know.
Next, anime. Derek used to watch a few anime (in 2016), like Naruto, but it seemed like many new ones popped up in the next few years. He would have to watch the ones ‘Derek’ liked and talked about with the user serrr_vus.
Speaking of serrr_vus, the person was probably an online friend. Even though he scrolled to the very start to their conversation, there was not a trace of their real name.
The last one was coding. Something he and ‘Derek’ both shared a love for. His computer was filled with random coding programs that ‘Derek’ supposedly worked little projects on. While looking through one of the projects, his computer buzzed with a notification.
Discord.
A social communication application that was created in 2015. It was fairly new in 2016 and wasn’t as popular as it was now. There were multitudes of features and things he would have to get used to, but it was fun overall. He personally didn’t use it when he was… how could he put it, ‘alive’ in his old body, but he knew it because, well, he knew everything about the universe up to the year 2016.
He looked through the servers and discovered many friends that ‘Derek’ made. He made a mental note to change the ‘Loner’ status later.
Derek spent the next few days in a weird limbo of observation and trial-and-error. Waking up in a body that wasn’t exactly his own meant every little thing. He kept a mental log: “Don’t stand out. Don’t say something that will get you outed."
Food was… a challenge. Energy drinks were fine, cup noodles were fine, but grocery shopping? The prices were too much. Inflation, he cursed.
Social stuff was a nightmare. His phone buzzed almost constantly with messages from discord and college groups. He replied awkwardly at first, pretending to be Derek Kenn while secretly trying to memorize texting habits and slang. One slip-up, and someone would notice he wasn’t the same guy.
(What was the deal with today’s slang, anyway? He kept seeing the number 67 which people made a big deal of, apparently.)
Minecraft, however, was a sanctuary. Loading up the world, Derek felt something familiar and grounding in the clunky blocks and coded mods. Hours slipped by as he explored, rebuilt, and even tinkered with modding again. It reminded him of… himself, the old him. Not this new shell, but Derek.
Sleep was strange. Dreams were loud, vivid, sometimes mixing 2016 memories with 2026 faces and streets. He’d wake up sweaty, heart racing, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers.
Outside, the world moved like a blur. Derek tried walking to the campus, noticing the city had changed. Streets were busier, tech was slicker, people were faster. He stuck to quiet routes, taking notes on how this life worked, almost like an anthropologist in his own body.
“Rek! How are you adjusting?” His ‘mother’ cooed at him from the screen, face taking up half of it. Her upper half, to be exact.
He forced his lips to move, stretching them into something that hopefully resembled a smile instead of a grimace.
“I’m… good.” he said, voice a fraction too slow. “Just busy with assignments.”
His mother beamed, the kind of warmth that felt foreign and invasive all at once. “You always say that. Are you eating properly?”
There it was.
Derek’s mind scrambled through the mental notes he’d built over the past few days.
“Yeah.” he lied smoothly this time. “Been cooking more.”
A pause.
His father leaned into frame, brows raising slightly. “Cooking?”
Right. The old Derek probably survived off instant garbage.
He shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just… trying new things. It gets boring eating the same stuff.”
Another pause.
Then his mother laughed, soft and relieved. “That’s good! I was worried you’d just live off those horrible noodles forever.”
Crisis… avoided. Barely.
His father studied him a second longer before nodding. “How’s your sleep?”
Derek almost laughed.
Bad. Loud. Full of memories that don’t belong to this timeline.
“It’s fine.”
“Rek,” his mother cut in gently, her tone shifting, “you look a bit tired. Are you overworking yourself again?”
Derek blinked.
There was no suspicion in her eyes. Just concern. Real, unfiltered concern.
It hit wrong.
He wasn’t used to that. Not like this. Not directed at him.
For a second, he didn’t respond.
“…I’m okay.” he said finally, quieter this time.
His father exhaled, leaning back slightly. “Don’t push yourself too hard. You’ve been doing well. No need to burn out.”
Doing well.
Derek swallowed. That wasn’t meant for him. That was for the other Derek - the one who belonged here.
The one they knew.
His mother smiled again, softer now. “We’re proud of you, you know?”
That one landed.
Straight to the chest, heavy and unfamiliar.
Derek’s fingers curled slightly out of frame.
“…Yeah.” he said, voice almost steady. “I know.”
A lie.
“So,” she continued, tilting her head a little, “are you still talking to that friend of yours? What was their name again…?”
Derek’s brain stalled for half a second.
“...Yes.” he answered, a beat too late.
Did ‘Derek’ have any other friends he wasn’t aware of yet?
She brightened. “You used to talk about them all the time. It’s nice you’re not alone over there.”
Used to.
Derek forced a nod. “Yeah. We still talk.”
Another lie.
His father crossed his arms. “Friends are good. Keeps you grounded.”
Grounded.
Derek almost smiled at that. If they knew what was actually going on - if they knew their son wasn’t even… their son-
The call would end very differently.
His mother leaned closer to the screen again, eyes softening in that same unbearable way. “Rek… you’ll tell us if something’s wrong, right?”
There it was.
Trust. Pure, unguarded trust.
Derek’s throat tightened. In another life, no one had asked him that. Not like this. Not with that tone, like the answer actually mattered.
For a second, just a second, he almost said it.
I’m not him.
Something’s wrong.
I don’t belong here.
His lips parted.
“…Yeah.” he said instead.
The word came out hollow.
His father nodded, satisfied. His mother smiled again, relieved, like that one word had fixed everything.
“Good!” she said softly. “We just want you to be happy.”
Happy.
Derek stared at the screen. At their faces. At the life that had been neatly built for someone else, handed to him like a costume he was expected to wear perfectly.
He didn’t deserve this.
Not the concern. Not the pride. Not the love.
Because it wasn’t meant for him.
It was meant for Derek Kenn.
And Derek Kenn was gone.
“…I should get back to work,” he said suddenly, cutting through the moment before it could suffocate him.
His mother blinked. “Oh! Okay. Don’t stay up too late, alright?”
His father gave a small nod. “Take care of yourself.”
Derek hovered for a second.
“…You too.”
Then he ended the call.
The screen went black.
Silence flooded the room, thick and heavy.
Derek stayed there, unmoving, the faint reflection of that unfamiliar face staring back at him again.
“We’re proud of you.”
The words echoed, louder now without anything to drown them out.
His chest tightened.
“…Wrong person.” he muttered.
The room didn’t respond.
Of course it didn’t.
For the first time since waking up, Derek felt it clearly.
Not confusion. Not fear.
Guilt.