Chapter Text
The stark brightness of the document screen feels like touching hot water after hours in the frigid snow. Snow which is, of course, the barely lit window of a game displaying that cursed platform. And the arresting static in his mind showing him each and every secret of the physical world wasn't doing much to help, either.
Regardless, Derek could endure it. If he managed to power through Hastur's influence and write a warning to Avery, then surely he could have enough strength to at least say goodbye. Leave with dignity, per se.
You know it's weird writing a final letter. Almost as if I have to come to terms with… whatever this is. Which I find quite displeasurable. But here I am. Why did I even record all this? I don't know.
A lie.
Well I do know.
Derek knew it well within himself, it was because he—
I just don't want to be forgotten.
He thought of his friends, his family, and Avery. If his mind would quiet down for a moment, with enough focus he could see them, and see what they were doing. He could see the futures they will carve for themselves, and he could also see each delicate memory he's had the joys of experiencing with them. That, and, of course, the nigh unbearable yellow noise that stains each thought.
My head hurts like hell. I can feel myself slipping as we become one. And my mind becomes a prison.
Derek wishes that as he and the King battle for control over his mortal mind, his human love sickens the King as much as its noise sickens Derek.
What a true shame it is. All the knowledge in the world and no way to use it. That's how it should be I suppose.
We stumbled into a world we have no business in. This is just the cost.
We—he and Avery. Being able to just clearly hear and be with your thoughts wasn't something he'd ever think was a luxury, but as he tries to find the words to say, he finds himself missing that peace. His fingers move anyway.
Please don't think you failed, Avery.
He started with what he knows Avery needs to hear the most.
When you read this, don't think you let me down. You didn't. It's thanks to you, and all that you did, that millions live to see another day.
He holds every piece of information the universe has ever conceived, yet he's certain that he knows Avery more, deeper, than anything else. He can almost feel it in his heart, the desperation Avery must have felt to recklessly try and save Derek, uncaring that it jeopardizes the only possible plan to keep Hastur away from their world.
To care so deeply, to be unguarded and to naively want the best for someone you know close to nothing about. That kind of goodness was something Derek wanted to preserve, that which he saw when his mind was flooded with infinity.
With it he of course saw the worst of humanity. The gore, the hate, all the stories left untold, and all the evil that went unpunished. It was a truth that no mortal should ever have to bear.
But with it he also saw people who try, despite everything. He knew everything about Avery in a millisecond, and was reminded that there will always be good in the world.
And thanks to you, I got a chance to see all the beauty of the universe. Things I never knew were in the world. Or could be. A chance no human will ever get again. I'm grateful that I saw it all. Even for just a little.
You're capable of great things. You'll do great things. So believe in yourself. And I don't just say that because I saw it. It doesn't take a god for me to figure it out. I know it because I know you. Goodbye my friend.
Whatever you do at the crossroads. Keep going forward.
Or something like that
(I was never really good with endings)
That—that should be enough. He still has so much to say, but that should be enough. He feels almost triumphant over Hastur, even, as he uploads his letter onto YouTube, where Avery will eventually see it.