Work Text:
Three, two, one.
Fireworks start bursting from the sky, the bright lights harshly bleeding into your room from the open window as it serves as the only source of light. Messages then flood your phone, greeting you a happy new year, but you just couldn't be bothered to reply; let alone open your phone.
You think to yourself about how this probably is the most depressing new year of your life. Instead of going out and socializing, partying with the people you consider ‘friends’, you find yourself cooped up in the corner of your bed, wrapped in blankets and your laptop resting on your thighs.
And it also just so happens that you had Minecraft open. It's almost humorous, but the longer you think about it, you only grow more depressed. What are you doing with your life?
What am I doing with my life? Avery sits in silence as he stares at the computer in front of him, illuminating Minecraft's death screen. At the moment he feels as though he needs to cry, puke, and punch his screen out of pure rage and despair. His hands tremble at the sudden overflow of his emotions, a gentle tear dripping from his chin onto his desk.
Derek's probably dead by now. He thinks to himself.
Oh, shit, Derek.
“Oh my fucking god. I killed him.“ Avery mercilessly claws at his arms, his eyes continuing to swell with more tears. “This is– this is all my fault. Shit– no, no, no, no, no, no...” He rambles, hunching over his desk and tugging at his hair harshly, sobbing like a madman.
But they can't do anything. At this point, they couldn't. All he can do now is helplessly wonder as to what's going to happen to the knight who had risked — or, more fittingly, given — his life just to save Avery's, and millions and millions of people in the world. The real world. The one where he's in right now; the one where Derek doesn't know him.
Avery sniffles, wiping his snot with his reddish, swelling arms. He almost laughs at the realization that all of that, all of what he has just witnessed, the strange 'King', the existential dread, the so-called 'infinite knowledge', the death of Derek; everything occurred in Minecraft. Minecraft, of all games. He fears he'll never be able to see even only the loading screen without spiraling. He fears he'll never be able to move on.
Despite their worries, they calm down, their heaving chest slowing into deep breaths. Avery takes a look at himself, his surroundings, his computer, and — oh, shit! His keyboard got wet!
Avery reaches out to the box of tissues just beside his monitor, eager to wipe off the excess tears on his keyboard and desk. He sighs in relief, gently resting the tip of his fingers onto the dry keys.
He, like a moth to a flame, takes a minute to look at the death screen again, as if to pick up the pieces of what was left of his experiences from earlier.
TheMostMayo was doomed to fall by d3rlord3.
Seeing Derek's username earns another burst of emotion from Avery, but they hold their tears in, gathering the courage to close the game. His mouse pointer inches closer, and closer to the close button, when his phone starts to buzz uncontrollably.
Confused, he takes a peek at it — only to see the time. 12AM. He's made it to the new year.
“Ha...” Avery laughs for a second, numb.
“I'm such a loser...”
Until his emotions finally took over as he began to frantically wail, grabbing his phone with a swift motion and retreating to his bed beside his computer desk, not even bothering to turn the monitor off.
Through the waterfall of their tears, they reach for a nearby pillow and practically strangles it whilst in a fetus-like position, scrolling through the notifications on their phone while they read every single message from people he barely interacted with, let alone liked in the first place.
He then opens his contacts, checking the names of each person who greeted him, more or less. The messages were probably set as ‘send to all’ or something, he thinks to himself.
As embarrassing as it was to admit, Avery hardly had any friends — or people he'd call friends. Ever since the start of college, people in his life only came and went. He'd gotten used to it once he found himself staring at the people he used to hang out with from another table, laughing with strangers he didn't know, whilst he sat alone.
Avery grips the pillowcase upon remembering that painful memory, groaning and rubbing his eyes in an attempt to calm his nerves. They're a textbook loser; he doesn't have any real friends, he never leaves his room, and most importantly — he likes video games, in his big age. Although by this point, all the trauma they endured from playing games might truly be the death of them (having already been the death of someone who actually cared for them, even if just for a while).
But as he reaches the bottom of his contacts, he sees the one name of a colleague whose company he actually enjoyed; your name. Surprisingly, you haven't sent him anything, not even a greeting, your last conversation ending with Avery thanking you for helping him with some science related report from a few weeks ago. You and him don't go way back, but you both clicked during philosophy time when you happened to sit together.
They backread through your chats, taking note of how comfortable you both were talking to each other. And most importantly, the fact that they actually didn't feel judged at all, every single one of his messages having typos due to him typing fast only to reply to you in time.
Yet despite his enthusiasm, all you both ever talked about was anything academically related. Sure, you both had small, casual chats here and there, but nothing too deep or personal for actual friends, unlike what Avery desired for you both to be.
Suddenly, he gains a desperate urge to call you.
“Why would I— why would I do that?” They whisper to themself along with a sniff, wiping his teary face on his pillow.
As much as he'd want to deny it, he wanted a distraction from everything. And unfortunately for him, you're the most comfortable option for him. He doesn't have any other person he could think of that would comprehend what he was going through right now other than you.
He's probably putting you on a high pedestal by thinking of you like you're the only person who's actually able to understand him. But, who were you to judge?
You venture out in the plains, looking for a suitable area to create your base in. Your phone has finally died down, notifications coming to a halt. Able to finally play in perfect silence, you sigh in relief. You'd consider yourself as a loser as well, having very little friends (probably one or two), and preferring to be by yourself most of the time, either playing video games or reading random books, unbothered by anything else life has to offer.
While you play, your mind wanders, moving from topic to topic — until you reach the subject of friends. You'd consider your two friends enough to keep you company; at the very least, they understand that you want to be alone most of the time. And, of course, that guy from philosophy class.
You tap your finger on your chin. What was his name again? Right, Avery. He's a pretty cool guy, and thinking about it now, you actually wonder why you both haven't tried to get closer rather than chatting solely during class.
Your phone starts to ring again. Groaning in annoyance, you pause your game and check to see whoever it was trying to call you right after 12AM hit — or whoever has time to waste just to call you — thinking it was just one of your two friends.
Speak of the devil. It's Avery.
“Why the fuck?” You raise an eyebrow, rightfully surprised as to why they would call you at this hour, at such an important time in your lives. You contemplate for a second, but ultimately decide to answer the call, eager to hear what they have to say.
Pressing the accept button earns you complete silence at the other end, only the sound of... breathing? and shuffling coming from who you assume is Avery. “S... sorry, is this Avery?”
“Uh, oh, shit, uh...” A familiar voice mumbles, with a strained and nasal tone. Have they been crying? “Yeah, it's...” Sniff. “It's Avery. Sorry...”
You're unsure about how to react, hearing Avery sounding concerningly vulnerable. “Um, are you okay?” You shift your laptop beside you, moving to a more comfortable position.
Shit, they sound so worried... I shouldn't have called. Avery's hands balled into fists as he softly punched his forehead as some kind of reflexive punishment.
“Avery?”
“Oh, god, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have called you, I'm–“
“No, no, it's alright! Did something happen? Why'd you call me?”
“It's... it's nothing. I mean, not nothing! God! I mean, I just couldn't think of anyone else to call, and I– I feel really horrible right now,” Avery pulls at his hair, completely embarrassed at his stuttering self.
“Wow, uh... I'm... I'm sorry you feel that way. Hey, at least we got through last year, right?” You bury your face in your hands right after, surprised that you could even make up something so much more less encouraging than any other motivational quote.
“Ha, ha, yeah...” Phew. At least he went along, you guess. “I'm sorry, I'm probably bothering you... But, I— I really can't tell you everything that just happened to me like, right now, but, I promise I'll tell you tomorrow, I just need– I needed to talk to somebody. So, um, thank you. Thank you for answering.”
That's... reassuring? “O... okay, but are you sure you're going to be able to come meet me? You don't want to, maybe, rest a little at home? You sound like you...“
“No, I... trust me, I need this. I really do.“ He mentions your name, with a tone full of seriousness you didn't know they could use. “Wait, no, that sounds really selfish– sorry, I meant, can you come meet up with me tomorrow? It's okay if you can't,“ No, it's not. He needs to see you. He needs to talk to someone about this.
“Avery, it's okay. I can come.”
“Oh my god, dude, you're an angel. Thank you– thank you so fucking much,” Avery's voice is desperate, cracking at every vowel. “You won't be cancelling any plans for this? I'm not bothering you, am I? Oh, fuck, what am I talking about? Of course I'm bothering you, I'm calling at one in–”
“Avery! Please, it's really all good. I'll be there. I understand what you're going through right now. I'll be here for you.” What are you talking about? He hasn't even told you anything about what he was feeling so horrible about!
“Y.. yes, okay, thank you, thank you, thank you. You don't know how much this means to me,“ Avery grips their phone so tightly to the point it's about to slip out of their grasp.
“So, where...” You trail off, a little awkward and foreign from hearing somebody express so much gratitude towards you.
“Right! Um, at... at the park, is that okay? If you can't there, you can just tell me where we'll meet, I can go anywhere–”
“The park is okay. I'll... I'll see you there at... 1PM?”
“Yes! I mean, yeah, that's perfect. Again, thank you so much,” Your name rolls from his tongue as though he talks of an angel.
“Really, it's fine,” You scratch the back of your neck, feeling undeserved of receiving praise from doing the bare minimum. Avery must really need that talk, you think to yourself.
“Yes, yes! Thank you, I love you!”
“Sorry?”
And with that, the call cuts off, leaving you confused.
Did they say “I love you”? What was that? Nevertheless, you sigh, laying completely flat on your bed, processing the rollercoaster of emotions that conversation exposed you to. So, now you have a meet-up with a classmate at the local park at 1PM on New Year's. What a way to start the year.
On the other hand, Avery sits on the edge of his bed, hunched over on their phone, finding themself yet again eyeballing your chats. The call lasted eleven minutes, but it felt so much longer for him. Your voice, he recalls, it's comforting. He doesn't think you sounded so pleasant back then, let alone be as comforting as you were tonight.
But now, all he'll need to worry about is if you'll believe all of the absurdities he went through.