it’s 6 months or so after the dust settles down that steve starts to worry about derek’s new friend. the kid’s been devoted to steve ever since steve pulled him out of vecna’s caves, and with henderson newly off at college, derek helps to fill a void in steve’s life he’d been slightly terrified would swallow him up whole.
so when steve goes to pick up derek for baseball practice one afternoon and overhears the kid in his room seemingly deep in conversation with another imaginary friend, he definitely starts to panic a bit. isn’t sure what to do - he contemplates calling nance but she’s off at emerson, joyce and hop are too busy with their new life together and the last thing steve wants to do is ruin their happy ending with something like this. for all he knows, this “mor” figure derek talks to really is nothing but an actual imaginary friend.
in any case, he levels with the kid, gives it to him straight. “i’m glad you can talk to mor, seriously, i am,” steve assures, and he can’t help the waves of jealousy from roiling low through his gut over someone who might not even actually exist, who he can’t see and who (he hopes) can’t see him. for all steve knows, he’s just being really, really paranoid right now - though he’s learned it’s better to be safe than sorry, when dealing with these kinds of things, and he needs derek to stay safe.
“just be careful,” steve continues, because for all his dipshit tendencies, derek’s still a kid and he’s still, on the whole, fairly innocent. “we don’t need another mr. whatsit situation. if mor is real, how can you be sure you can trust him?”
derek rolls his eyes, leans across the diner table to snatch a fry from the edge of steve’s plate. “i’m not a dumbass, steve, i know better with creeps like henry now.” he pops the fry into his mouth, chews, swallows, wipes the grease off his fingers onto his shirt which makes steve wrinkle his nose. “mor isn’t like that. and he is real, he knew henry, too. mor says henry is the reason he became master of reality in the first place.”
steve frowns - something about that phrasing itches at the back of his brain. “is that what mor stands for?” he asks, and his thoughts flit over to holly, to the others. “we should ask the other camazotz kids if they’ve seen him, too. if mor talks to you, maybe he’s spoken with them also.”
derek shrugs, seeming way too childishly nonchalant for steve’s tastes. “none of them have mentioned anything to me.” his young voice grows harder with conviction, cracking slightly in passion. something about it sorta reminds steve of himself, when he was that age. “besides,” derek continues. “mor says that henry’s a creepy-ass poser who can fuck himself a million times sideways, and i think that he’s right.”
“hey, watch it,” steve scowls and admonishes - whatever happened to suck my fat one? “of course he’s right, but you know how good vecna is at manipulation. he’s dead - he has to be - but how do we know this isn’t one last trick? one last nasty gift that he’s left for us to unwrap?” steve shakes his head. “i wanna be careful, man. we can never be too careful, and i really don’t need you getting hurt, or worse.”
derek takes a drink of his banana milkshake. the chewed end of the plastic straw slurps obnoxiously. “mor said you’d say that,” he solemnly responds. “he also said to tell you that he’s sorry.”
steve frowns, utterly thrown for a loop. “sorry? sorry for what?”
derek licks at his top lip to swipe away his whipped cream mustache, and the entire world seems to wrench crossways in steve’s head as derek says, casual as anything,
“for not listening. for being a hero.” he tilts his head to the side, like he could be listening for something - or someone. “he wants to know if you still have his vest, or if you gave it back to his uncle or to goodwill or some shit like that.”
and steve nearly passes out right there in the diner booth.
