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"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
The words ring through Avery's ears. Caleb is standing in the middle of his cramped dorm—dirty clothes on the floor, dishes in the sink—with clenched fists.
"You never fucking talk to us anymore, man. I know you've always been—" he gestures, "—like this—hell, you pay pretty much double just to live alone, but this is seriously extreme."
Avery watches him gesticulate wildly from his peripheral, pushing himself further into the corner of his couch.
"First, you ditched us at the New Year's Party—you know you were supposed to bring the drinks—and ever since, you've just been—you've been sulking! You never answer our texts or calls and you never hang out. Your dorm's a mess, for God's sake! It's actually ridiculous! And I'm not the only person noticing, you know. Finn has been—" the words come in bits and pieces as Avery loses and regains focus.
"—I swear you need to—"
"—just pick your ass up and—"
"—I don't know what to tell you—"
"—it's like you're just gone from the world—"
"Shut it." Avery says it hoarsely, almost softly, but a command nonetheless. Caleb scoffs, then falls silent. His arms drop to his sides and his face softens just slightly.
"What?" He bites.
"You heard me. Shut up and get out. You don't know shit," Avery hisses.
Caleb's face twists into anger again. "Fine. If that's how you want it to be. Just rot there if you want it so badly."
With that, he storms over to the door and leaves, slamming it shut with a wince from Avery.
The silence sits heavy for a few moments before he rolls over, burying his face in the cushion of the couch and letting out one pathetic, choked sob. Caleb had no idea He watched someone die. He watched his friend die. All because he was too naïve to see through a blatant trick, and he paid the price for it. He lost the one person who cared enough to push him off that edge. Derek did it because he wanted Avery to do something good with his life.
Avery wonders what he would think of him now.
He wipes tears from his face with the sleeve of his hoodie and rests his head on the armrest. The inner frame of the awkwardly stuffed, secondhand couch digs into his cheek, but it's just about the best it'll get. His eyes fall shut. Not too long later, he feels himself drifting, drifting farther from reality until—
Knock. Knock.
Avery blinks open his eyes. "Caleb, I swear to God, if it's you again—"
Knock. Knock. Knock. This time, frantic.
Fine. If this is how he wants his to be. Avery rubs his face and rolls over. Practically collapsing off of the couch, he half-stumbles to his front door, reaching for the knob and yanking it open.
He expects Caleb, a delivery man, a wayward prankster. He expects anything but a stranger, panting and swaying in his doorway, on the brink of fainting.
Great, a druggie.
But then the stranger looks up at him, and one of his eyes flashes a brilliant shade of yellow.
Yellow.
Avery freezes. Any words he had planned—"Do you need help?" or "Let me call someone," or "Maybe you should have gone to anyone but me,"—die on his tongue. He remembers that shade of yellow. Whether it be from a looming, gilded double-door or the flash of armor in some distant pixelated world, he remembers it.
All that before the stranger's knees buckle, and he collapses into Avery's arms.