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He uploads the footage. Both the gameplay recording, and his own letter. His head hurts, spins, mind slowly devouring itself from within. All noise and static and a thousand watching eyes, and it hurts so badly, the light of the screen is blinding-
But Avery is safe. The world is safe, too, but more importantly, Avery is safe. Derek knows it. Somewhere, in his own room, Avery is hitting the laptop in terror and grief and trying not to scream, but he’s alive to do so.
Not that much longer, now. Infinite knowledge is a terrible, terrible fate. His mind tears itself apart. The remnants of that creature, the King, scream with a thousand equally incensed voices, glare with a thousand yellow eyes, but there’s not much that can be done. They both know it, in the swirling whirlpool of information burrowed into Derek’s mind alongside the King.
Damn parasite, Derek thinks, and the world turns white for a moment as he winces, head falling into his hands, something ringing ever-so loudly in his ears.
Avery is safe. Derek knows this with all the certainty he can ever have. And- Avery was his friend. There was that, too. There was no time for much more, but somewhere between rushed messages and ‘Until next time, friend’...
They were friends. That’s a nice thought. His vision blurs, glitches, whites out again. The headache is more splitting than ever. Not much longer. Not much time. In another world, would they have had that time?
Derek closes his eyes, and dreams about another world. He wasn’t lying to Avery. The universe is beautiful.
“I will never understand the gold,” Avery whines, tugging at D3rlord’s cape. The gladiator laughs, low, and replies, “And I will never understand Skywars.”
They’re in the mines, Avery and D3rlord. D3rlord said he felt like going mining, and the slime hybrid insisted on tagging along; he can’t lie, he prefers it like this, with Avery beside him. Their little server of two- admin error, they said, accident, it was meant to be singleplayer- is home now.
Pickaxe in hand, D3rlord continues on as Avery begins to ramble, something about Skywars and a pig (is he hearing that right?) with a crown who reigned supreme and untouchable over combat, and about fishing rods and gameplay tactics. It’s comforting to listen to, the excited chatter of his friend as he talks. And- something is off. D3rlord frowns at the cave in front of him. Checks his coordinates.
“Hey, Avery?”
“And then- Yeah?”
D3rlord motions towards the moss. The strangely even cave generation, all stone and moss and no ores or variations in sight.
“What do you see?”
“...Moss? Azalea? Lots of stone.”
“Hm.”
He puts his pickaxe away. Keeps walking, and Avery hurries to catch up with him; the cave continues, twisting and turning, until it finally ends. Opens into… something that should not be there. Trees, made and not generated, and a giant world that looks strange and eerie and unnatural.
“Whoa,” Avery says, pushing past D3rlord to see, and the sound echoes. D3rlord swallows, shaken. Something is strange about this. Very strange. He checks- still just the two of them. No third player.
“Should we explore?” Avery asks, grinning, and D3rlord wants to say yes. Wants to figure out what this mystery is, this cave where nothing is natural. But Avery is with him. They haven’t known each other that long, true, but D3rlord would like to say they’re friends. Friends take care of each other, right? Protect each other?
At all costs, he thinks, he would protect Avery. Better to play it safe than sorry, he decides, and shakes his head, “We should report this to someone. Admin, maybe?”
Avery pouts. Green hands clasped together, looking at D3rlord, “Come on, you can’t tell me you’re not curious!”
“Oh, I am,” D3rlord says, a corner of his mouth quirking up beneath his helmet, “But unlike you, I can think logically, and we should at least get this vetted by admin.”
“Boo,” Avery says, but he’s already turning around, heading past D3rlord, heading back the way they came. With one last glance at the strange cave of trees, D3rlord turns and leaves.
All the way back, D3rlord has a strange sensation; like something is glaring at him, boring holes into his armour with the power of its gaze alone, a thousand little pinpricks that feel like eyes on him. He can’t say he’s not relieved when they travel back to their portal and warp back to the Hub, the in-between that connects them all.
At the best of times, D3rlord only ever tolerated the Hub. The place is full of activity, always buzzing, always chaotic and unorganised and just too much. A temporary passageway to wherever he was headed next, he told himself, only to be used when necessary. Since meeting Avery, he’s found he doesn’t mind it as much, not when Avery is chattering away beside him and pointing out something new and intriguing.
That’s the case today, as they head for the nearest Admin office. Strange cave basically forgotten, Avery is pretty happy to chat with D3rlord as per usual. He points out a few interesting appearances, makes a detour to get them some melons to snack on, and is very nearly drawn into the Skywars portal before D3rlord clears his throat. Avery laughs, sheepishly, and they make it to the Admin office without incident.
“Sorry, we’re closed today,” the man at the office- dressed in a red sweater, with colourful wings that flutter on his head, feet kicked up on the counter- says cheerfully, “Got a problem, guys?”
“Yes, actually,” D3rlord replies, and Avery slides in, waving his hands around, “We wanted to do an inquiry. I don’t suppose you know when it’ll be open again-?”
“We’ll see,” the man says, still grinning, like there’s some splendid inside joke, “But for now- we’re closed. Come back again another day. Don’t go ‘round the back, though, it’s not finished-”
Avery starts to say something, ask where the nearest open office would be, but D3rlord shakes his head and pushes, staring down the other man from beneath his helmet, “There’s something in our world. And it’s not natural. A cave full of giant trees, all uniform, all definitely not naturally generated. And it felt like there were… eyes on us.”
The man's gaze sharpens. Avery and D3rlord glance at each other, briefly, as the guy takes his heels off the table and leans forward, still smiling.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
He nods. Opens a couple of drawers, until he pulls out a piece of scrap paper and a pen, and says, “IDs for me? I’ll forward it to Admin. I can’t do much, but I’ll keep watch.”
He winks. His eyes glow, briefly, and D3rlord’s own widen. Ah. That’s what this person with the bright wings is. That's why he's even in this office.
“Thank you,” he says, and they write their IDs down and leave without much more fanfare. The glow of the man's eyes remains in D3rlord’s memory, and he hears him hum a small song as they leave.
Avery looks at D3rlord, confused, and D3rlord shakes his head, “I’m pretty sure he’s something else. Not Admin, but… something.”
Understanding dawns on Avery. As they leave, D3rlord feels a different kind of gaze on him. Less like that intense, cornering feeling back at the mines; this one is distant. Watching. He can live with that, D3rlord decides, and motions towards a nearby portal, “Avery. Up to play some games?”
“Am I ever! Can we play Skywars?”
“In your dreams.”
He wakes up in- a hospital room. Blinks once. Twice. He’s in a hospital room, and there’s a nurse and some worried people, and his head hurts like hell. The realisation hits him pretty quickly; he doesn’t remember anything.
One uncomfortable conversation later: He learns that his name is Derek Hutchins. He’s a student. They suspect retrograde amnesia, caused by either disease or trauma, considering he was found slumped over at his desk in his room, bleeding from the head, his computer glitching out. The computer is unsaveable. They’re keeping him in the hospital for a couple more weeks for monitoring.
His headache is still present; they give him some meds, and the pain lessens to a drone in the background. The doctors suspect some kind of brain damage, the nurse tells him gently, like there’s some kind of revelation Derek is supposed to have. He’s unsurprised, given the ever-present headache he has. Trying to recall anything only makes it worse, so he just… doesn’t. Displeasurable though it may be.
His second day after waking up, couple of hours before the end of the visiting day, someone comes looking for him.
The guy comes in, dressed in an outfit that immediately makes Derek’s head hurt. A flower-patterned button-up, oversized shorts, white t-shirt… Why does that seem so familiar? He locks eyes with the guy, and blinks. Scratch that- this guy seems familiar.
His visitor stumbles forward, jerky, like he’s not sure what to do with his limbs; he raises a hand to wave, and says, “Uh- Derek Hutchins, right? I’m- I’m Avery. I- It’s you.”
“Me,” Derek replies, instinctively.
Avery. His visitor is named Avery. The name feels right, somehow, and the pain in Derek’s head fades away for a brief moment before returning with a vengeance. He winces, and immediately, all prior caution is abandoned- Avery rushes forward, stopping just short of touching Derek, eyes filled with worry. With the hand that isn’t currently clutching his head, Derek motions towards the painkillers and water on the table, and thankfully, Avery gets the hint.
One dose of painkillers later, Derek nods, “Thank you. Sorry, Avery, I can’t remember anything. I should know you, shouldn’t I?”
Avery- who’s now pulled up a chair and sits by Derek’s bedside, kicking his legs- blinks, and a faint smile comes onto his face, “Yeah. We- I- I’m your friend. It’s a long story, but this is kinda the first time we’re meeting each other in person.”
Derek makes a face, and replies, “Not the best way to meet a friend in person for the first time. If we haven’t met before, how do I know you?”
Avery laughs. He sounds a little bit choked up. Something about him is so familiar, puts Derek at a strange kind of ease. Feels like they’ve been through hell and back together. He tells Avery this.
“Kinda,” Avery says, eyes never leaving Derek’s face, “It’s a long story. Maybe someday. Not- not today though. I’m just… glad I could meet you, Derek.”
Derek looks down at his hands. Looks back up at Avery, at the flower-patterned shirt, and says, “Wish I could be of more help to you, Avery. As it stands now, though, I can’t remember a thing.”
Amnesia is annoying. It’s clear he was someone important to Avery, and he thinks maybe Avery was important to him, too. But amnesia or not, Derek is startled out of his musings by Avery’s choked-up laugh- and for a terrifying moment, he’s not sure if Avery is going to cry. His eyes are shining, concerningly close to tears, but he shakes his head, determined, and his voice is filled with conviction.
“Doesn’t matter what you remember. You’re real. You’re special.”
And- Avery says those words with such certainty. His gaze won’t leave Derek’s face. They know each other. Derek knows this instinctively. He can’t remember how, why, when- but there is something buried deep inside him, away from the ruin of his mind and his memory, that says I know you.
“Poet,” Derek says after the lull. Avery smiles, and replies, “Someone said those words to me before. Smarter guy than me.”
Derek smiles, too. It feels right, with Avery. The headache has lessened, even more than usual when he takes the painkillers; still there, a low whine, but he can ignore it.
“I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t think much past this,” Avery admits sheepishly, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, “No clue where to go from here. What to do.”
“Keep going forward, I suppose, or something like that,” Derek says, shrugging, and Avery jolts again like he’s been struck with something; Derek leans towards him, worried, but Avery just laughs, “Something like that.”
They talk a little more. Derek learns a bit about Avery. When visiting hours begin to draw to a close,
“When you’re discharged,” Avery says, fiddling with his hands, “Wanna go grab a drink with me? I know some pretty good cafés- I mean, if you want.”
“Sure,” Derek agrees, and wow his muscles hurt from this much smiling. Avery beams, silently punches the air in triumph, and Derek laughs. The laugh makes Avery grin even more, and Derek raises a hand at him in some sort of wave, “Come back again before I’m discharged. So I can get your number.”
“As you wish, my lord,” Avery says with a dramatic bow, and Derek snorts, “Goodbye, Avery.”
“Different option,” Avery says, and his gaze changes somehow, more gentle, like he’s looking at something precious, “How about this. Until next time, Derek.”
“Don’t think I’m much good with endings,” Derek agrees, and a corner of Avery’s mouth twitches up in a smile, like he’s confirmed something to himself.
“Until next time, Avery.”
His name is Derek Hutchins. He has an unexplainable, persistent headache that won’t leave him alone. But Derek also has a friend who feels way too familiar, and like he told Avery: he’ll keep going forward. Or something. Hopefully with his friend by his side.