Work Text:
If he was even just a little bit smarter, he could've changed everything.
Avery accepts no other truth. The king had eyes for him, he was his own trump card — he held thousands of different outcomes in his hands.
"Avery, what's in your inventory?"
Derek recollected himself so impressively easy after the banter they just had, Avery had watched his face in its blank and calm state. Maybe his facial features could've still been wrinkled and tensed from earlier but that's beyond Avery. Everything seems to be beyond Avery.
In hindsight, he didn't know why he would even think for a second that Derek had finally accepted him and his help. He'd been so truthful to him up until the moment. But the knight was also beautifully stubborn,
beautiful and stubborn.
Avery is pathetic. He's not even mad that Derek lied to him about the gold above the tree, or if he distracted him to push him off the platform. He's not capable of being mad at him at all.
Because an undeniable fact was that Avery didn't need to be led on a truth to follow Derek anywhere he went. The knight fed him a lie or two — and it left just as warming as the aftertaste of a truth, it doesn't matter in the slightest. That's why he's pathetic.
He could only be mad that it was Derek's choice.
His choice to be the one to take the fall. His choice that Avery couldn't be with him until the lights found in both their eyes dimmed. His choice to leave Avery with the future Derek assumed could shine just as bright without the gold of his armor.
Because what conclusion could be driven that Avery could have so much more than a future promised to Derek? What about what Avery wanted?
"I'm so sorry. I forgot, I won't forget again."
And he could claim Avery didn't owe anything to him, it was always more than just warning him about the king. He placed the signs by the gate didn't he? Avery knows he did, he catched a glimpse before some government force took down Derek's footage. Well fuck the government, and fuck Derek.
Because the firewroks of the New Year could ignite and burn bright in the night sky as much as they wanted, but there was only one shade of buttercup yellow that could only be found in Derek's eyes.
Derek was smart, he was kind and selfless, and his care radiated even though the screen, but there was no need to defend why he shouldn't have been the one to sacrifice himself. Because the answer is obvious. The future belonged to what was once the knight. If Derek could think he had nothing to lose, then Avery had less than nothing.
Really? What could he have? Distant friends that wouldn't mattered compared to Derek. Being an absolute failure of a son, and being the fool that he is, and always will be. He's simply just- well, it should've just been him okay? If in any way they could've won at the sacrifice of Avery himself, it couldve automatically been the better outcome. Because nothing he could do would ever be better than with-
"You're capable of great things."
..
"You'll do great things."
...
"So believe in yourself."
Stop
"And I don't just say that because I saw it."
Stop please
"It doesn't take a god for me to figure that out."
No no no
"I know it because"
Please nononononono stop stop please nono stop please no
"I know you. Goodbye my friend."
.
..
...
..
.
It's the 3rd day of January, 2026.
Fireworks still get lit every night, Avery reckons the next few nights will be like this. It's loud, he hates loud — there's no reason to be this loud. Avery used to be loud, he can't remember a time and moment specifically but he knows he was.
It pained him dearly to wake up in the morning, it pained him dearly to leave his slumber, it pained him to get up because it meant that he had a chance to be anything but the rot of the world. It pained him to stop dreaming because it's the closest he will ever be to Derek. It pains him to be a breathing, beating, living, thinking, and functioning person. It could've been Derek.
His body felt heavy, the floor creaks beneath his footsteps like a whine that would rather anything else than let him sneak around stealthily if Avery so wished. But Avery didn't, if anyone broke in he would gladly present and announce himself to his death.
Avery did undeniably stand up, but it comes to him that he has no purpose whatsoever. He checks his phone, still receiving new year messages — his friends and family already greeted him earlier, now it's just a guessing game of when could he have even approached some of these people.
Funny, there was someone else he barely knew aswell, imagine receiving a greeting from him.
He knew he was should at the very least keep his living spaces clean, having proper disposal and duly washing his dishes, Avery claims it's for when other people finally take his apartment, but deep down it gave Avery a little sense of life in himself, that was bad.
Avery stumbed into the kitchen of his apartment, the fridge inflected upon a cold he was familiar with. He expected nothing, but his friends restocked his fridge for him. He could atleast appreciate his friends, they come through when they need to. He cooked himself eggs, more than that and life would be running too great for his tastes.
He left the kitchen, waiting for his food to cool down, to stare at himself in the bathroom mirror, almost slipping on the tiles as he entered, catching himself on the rim of the sink with his survival instincts. Oh how ecstatic, maybe next Avery should live a long prosperous life with loving friends and family.
He looked like shit, he stared at the mirror, until he decided he had enough of it. Avery washed his face with water — the cool of the water relaxed his face a little, a splash stained the rim of the sleeves of his hoodie. He payed no mind to it as he stepped out of the bathroom.
It's bad practice really to be letting your food wait, especially if you pause and leave to attend other business in the middle of eating. However, Avery believed it would've been even worse practice to simply ignore the text message he had just received from his local hospital on his phone for later.
"Mr. Avery, we believe it's in your best interest to come to the medical center as soon as you can."
"Is something wrong doctor?"
"We recently admitted a patient and found that your full name and address is written on their arm. We need to know your ties to this person."
...
He- What?
He didn't know what to think.
If deep down he was waiting for this karma to catch up to him or not.
He wasn't gonna move.
Perhaps sulk and live in that past until he returned to the ground beneath.
Avery didn't finish his eggs, he lost his appetite completely after the message — he tried to get himself to eat more but his stomach had sank deep. There was no rush but he brisk walked anyway to the hospital, his heart working double time.
Could this be some sort of prank? A cruel joke on Avery? Could this be the king finally coming to take him away? or could it be...
him..?
The hospital was an unforgiving cold, it cooled any sweat he could have formed on the way here. He really wanted to lay down again, as if for the past several hours havent been mostly spend rotting. If you really think about it, nobody at the hospital has ever really looked like they we're in the best state of mind, so no matter how on edge he was, Avery could fit right in.
He wanted to rethink what he was doing, he had asked his doctor what room the patient was in. Ironically, he had to turn left down the hallway to reach it. But regardless, if this was somehow the plan of the king, somehow even when he swore the king was long gone, then what a fool he was. He embraced death but if it was at the hands of the eldritch, he couldn't stand to face the knight again. Avery wanted to slow down, to maybe think for once in his life.
But he didn't think there was time to think if Derek Hutchins was written on the nameplate of Room 419.
Now the cold of the hospital really was unforgiving. His body froze in response, heart sinking deeper then the fall the same patient had pushed him off. He-
...
Avery wasn't exactly the most mannerful when he so decided to run the door down, if it was anybody else, he could have rudely awoken them.
But it was nobody else.
He gazed upon the man bedridden, half-awake as if he didn't just hear Avery burst the door open at all. Avery checked his arm, and as expected he found his full name and address — hastily and messily written down on permanent marker.
Avery wanted to cry.
Because there he was.
His knight, his savior, his Derek.
He could almost see it again.
His Derek heroically warning him, saving him, outsmarting the gods against all odds. Someone who knew everything about Avery. Even then behind it, he was human.
He was just a guy.
He didn't deserve this, oh how could he?
Avery sniffed, he knew his eyes were watering as he approached the side of the bed. Derek stared forward blankly, not paying attention to the man passing by infront of him.
"Derek? Is this really you? This is real right?" Avery could still have his doubts. His knight was intelligent, and cunning, led on his intuitive gut, and for the first time, Avery's could use his gut. Because without even seeing the man, the warmth was so familiar to him.
His Derek was as beautiful as he expected him to be, perhaps even more than he thought. No matter how much of a mess he looked like he came from, his brown hair could be ran through, woven in gorgeous keratin. His eyes were yellow, not the cruelty of gold, but the comfort of cream and corn. His best friend. One that could be so striking no matter what he wore, even in his hospital gown. His lips meant to speak words Avery could never wish to understand — maybe even to love someone one day. His hands that had once worked to show him care, altruism, selflessness. So entirely human, yet his knight even without the armor of his player skin.
The bedridden doesn't register him, still blankly staring forward. He almost resonated of a hollow husk. This is what remains of his Derek, someone who's brain had been consumed until nearly nothing remained. Avery couldn't take it anymore. He rested ontop of him, crying into his shoulder, into the warmth of his husk, his hand reaching down to interlock their fingers, but only Avery squeezed his hand.
Avery wasn't sure how much love was left in his Derek, but it was okay because he had so, so much love in himself to make for it.
He didn't want to get up, because for the first time resting on a bed hasn't felt like the worst, rotten feeling in the whole planet. He had his best friend underneath him, protected from the cruel world.
Avery wrapped his other arm around his knight — finding his one true comfort. He raised his head up from the wet stain that formed on the sleeve of Derek's gown, to find that his husk had been able to refocus his eyes to glance at Avery just below him, staring blankly in his direction. Hah.
That'll do.