Work Text:
Avery stared blankly at the death screen as the clock on his wall ticked, counting the seconds of the new year. The sound of the blood pulsing in his ears was only interrupted by the bangs and flashes of the fireworks.
A minute passed. And another. And then Avery suddenly moved his hands on the laptop trackpad, hurriedly rejoining. He immediately started to head back towards the mine. Nothing slowed him- the nausea rising in his throat, his breathing nearing hyperventilating, the sick and heavy feeling in his gut, it all hardly registered to him. His progress was too slow. Everything felt wrong. Everything was too silent.
There was a heavy thud from the apartment next door.
Avery slowly stood up and walked to the door of his apartment. He only noticed that his hands were shaking when it took him three tries to open the door. His sandals cautiously landing on the hallway floor sounded like stomping. He knocked on his neighbor’s door. Avery hadn’t met them before, despite the proximity- they apparently had different work schedules, and he had never taken it upon himself to welcome them to the apartment complex. But he did know that they never made much noise, and they didn’t seem like the type to go banging pots and pans the second the date changed to January first.
“Hey, are you okay? I heard a loud noise,” he explained, voice faltering a little.
Nothing.
“Uh, I’d really like it if you’d say something, I’m getting kind of worried,” he added. Not a sound came from the door. He pushed down his nausea and tried again.
“Neighbor guy?” He was almost shouting now. They definitely should’ve heard him. He swallowed thickly. If they were seriously hurt, he was only wasting time. He tried the apartment door, but was met with resistance. Locked. If only he had taken his friend up on the offer to learn how to pick locks in the fifth grade.
Avery pressed his back against the door and sank to the ground.
“Shit, shit shit shit. Ohhhh, my god.” He sniffled. Tears were starting to blur his vision. He ran a hand through his hair, breathing shakily. Taking a deep breath, holding it, and letting it out, he pulled his phone out. He breathed deeper and slower as the phone rang, and wiped his eyes.
When the ambulance arrived and the paramedics opened the door, he peered around the corner to see a man lying on the floor next to a desk with a laptop sitting open, the Minecraft “game over” screen mirroring the one he had stared unblinkingly into mere moments before.