Work Text:
“THAT IS AN INSANE THING TO SAY!” D3rlord3 screamed, keeping his eyes trained on Avery. “YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW ME!
“YOU WARNED ME, DEREK!” The name, as unfamiliar as it was, felt right when it came out of Avery’s mouth. It definitely caught D3rlord3’s attention. “YOU’RE ONLY PART OF THIS BECAUSE IT WANTED ME! IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT YOU’RE HERE!” His breath came in heavy pants, hands gripping the hilt of his wooden sword.
How good was D3rlord3 at PVP? How easily could he kill Avery? Because he tried hitting him earlier, but his axe snapped on contact. What did that have to say about him? That he was willing to kill him to get his way? That he was willing to lie to him just to get him out of the way? This was something bigger than both of them! Hell, they were being watched by something bigger than both of them! The eyes surrounded them both. Staring. Observing. Avery had no clue where they were or why the King wanted him so badly, but he was not about to just— leave D3rlord3 here on a suicide mission! So what if it wanted to come into the real world? There was no way he was going to let him do this on his own!
“I’m finishing the job,” he had said. On his own? By destroying a mind that was already broken? After Avery had basically spent his entire New Years’ Eve searching for someone who deserved to be saved? After he forced his way through every stupid puzzle he encountered out of spite and perseverance alone? You’ve got to be kidding!
“I’M NOT LETTING YOU DIE FOR ME!”
“Avery, if you don’t go”—D3rlord3 grabbed the collar of his shirt—“WE’LL BOTH DIE!”
They were face-to-face. Avery could see the dejected acceptance in D3rlord3’s shadowed eyes. And he was sure he could see the faint tears in his own. D3rlord’s breathing was heavy. Pained, if he wanted to go that far. Which he didn’t. He really didn’t.
The grip on his shirt collar was released; Avery was pushed away. Stumbling back, he wiped the tears from his eyes. Frustration welled up in his chest as he took in the scene in front of him. Yellow eyes peered into his soul and maybe his mind if he thought that hard. But D3rlord3 was there. Stupidly persistent and so stubborn and honestly a lot like him if he overlooked the smarts.
At that moment he didn’t know whether to grieve his death or fight for his life.
“It’s okay; you might not even remember me when you’re out of here,” D3rlord3 explained, though his words were far from reassuring. If anything, it sounded like a dismissal. “Who knows how this place works.”
Avery really wanted to fight him. It would probably amount to nothing. D3rlord3 knew more about this place than he did. So much more than he’ll ever get to comprehend. “Even if I dont…” He hesitated. “My recording will.”
There was a hint of a smile that was barely visible. “That’ll do.” The smile was gone. “Now leave, Avery.”
Again with the leaving. He knew D3rlord3 wouldn’t give up. He knew he’d go on and push him away over and over as if either option wouldn’t hurt both of them. “…No.” Avery took a defiant step forward. “I’m staying with you, D3rlord3,” he insisted. “You can’t stop me, no matter what you say. You warned me. You saved me.”
He kept his gaze trained on the other, refusing to let him walk away from this. The glint of tears in his eyes weren’t desperate—but determined. “If we’re doing this? We’re doing it together. I don’t care.”
And nothing showed up in D3rlord3’s stare. Nothing at all. No acceptance, no anger, no intelligent remark. Nothing. He stared deep, deep into Avery’s eyes, as if he was connecting the dots of a mystery rather than trying to understand a person.
Then he spoke. “…You’re staying?”
Every step D3rlord3 took made Avery instinctively move back. He checked over his shoulder and noted how close to the edge he was getting. It wasn’t possible to move back any further. “Yes,” Avery said.
“You won’t leave?
“No.”
The tension left D3rlord3’s shoulders. Avery’s heart was pounding—was this it? Had he finally given in? He was going to tell him to stay, surely. They were going to do this together.
“Avery, what’s in your inventory?” D3rlord3 asked. That wasn’t the assurance he was expecting.
Confusion crossed his face. “What?”
“What’s in your inventory?” he repeated. Doubling down? Okay… There wasn’t much on him. A few blocks of moss, a couple crafting tables, the sword he was holding—
D3rlord3 closed the space between them in two quick strides, shoving Avery right off the edge of the platform.
“WAIT!”
He couldn’t react quick enough, find footing, push him back—nothing. Nothing at all. Shock didn’t set in quick enough, but at least it beat betrayal. The eyes shrank to pinpricks, the shadow of the platform blending in with what he assumed to be void.
And before he felt himself black out, he recalled a faint glimmer underneath the shadow of D3rlord’s face.
A gunshot sounded outside his window.
Avery shot up with a jolt, half-expecting someone to be in his room or outside or something. Of course, no one came, but it still took a moment for the adrenaline to subside. How long had he been out? What happened? What time was it?
No, really, what time was it?
His laptop showed those dreaded golden gates. Still open. Beckoning him to come back inside. His inventory was empty. D3rlord3 was still there. Fighting for his life alone, without him, despite every little thing he had said to convince him otherwise.
In the bottom right corner of his screen read four dreaded numbers. 11:58 PM on New Years’ Eve. Basically midnight. The gunshot he heard was a firework. It was basically midnight.
It had been fifteen hours.
Fifteen hours sitting at his desk and staring at his screen. Fifteen hours spent trying his hardest to find someone he barely even knew. Fifteen hours exploring a world someone else knew better. Fifteen hours, and no one even bothered to check in on him.
Fifteen goddamn hours. Only to be pushed away at the very end.
Avery clenched his fists, moving his chair closer to the laptop. This was stupidly unfair. Despite himself, he wanted to go back. There was still time, right? Midnight wasn’t a deadline. If he ran fast enough, he could make it back to D3rlord3 and try to persuade him to let him stay again. Tell him that he wouldn’t leave that easily and it’d take more than a shove to get rid of him, as if he was the main character in some animated PG movie.
There was still time, he told himself. Over. And over. And over. Repetitive, like the ticking of the mounted clock nearby.
There wasn’t any time. He stopped right past the threshold of the gates. If he turned around, he’d be back in that hallway, and then he’d have to run through all those gates again. Even with that shortcut at the top of the tree. By the time he got back to the platform…
This was stupidly unfair. He practically punched the escape key and stared at the game menu. This was stupidly unfair. The mouse hovered over the disconnect button. Hovered, but didn’t click. He couldn’t bring himself to click. Guilt and anger and fear and God knows what else made his mind spin. Bile threatened to rise in his throat and tears threatened to fall from his eyes.
This. was stupidly. unfair.
It was 11:59. He still had a minute. He still had a chance to forget this ever happened and move on for good. He still had a chance to go back and try. One more minute before he started anew, before he finally had a blank slate to work with. He could be better, fix his mistakes, keep moving forward.
He had no choice.
He left the game, closing Minecraft before his world was done saving. The laptop was slammed shut, head hung low as he stared at the top of it. You better know what you’re doing, Derek.
You better know.
Standing up from his chair was harder than he expected. His legs were asleep and he was unsteady on his feet—but it didn’t matter to him. The wall kept him upright as he looked out the window. Clear sky with the pinpricks of stars scattered throughout. People down below, who were celebrating while their world turned quicker than Avery’s own.
Midnight came. Fireworks burst across the sky in an instant. Sparks of red and yellow and blue and even more yellow painted the sky. Avery finally burst into tears.
It was midnight; it was the new year! He was going to feel great! He was going to go out with family and friends, drinking and partying all night! There was so much ahead of him to celebrate! There was so much to look forward to! That was the problem. There was so much ahead of him, so much to look forward to. And he knew that it was all for nothing. That even though he tried and thought and tried again? He was trying to save someone he couldn’t save. And even if he found him, it was all for nothing it didn’t break him out.
He failed. No matter how he saw it, he had to face the fact that he failed. Maybe Derek thought otherwise, if he could even think at all. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was already gone.
So despite everyone else around him parading around the new year and popping champagne bottles, hoping for wealth or healthiness or safety… Avery grieved. It was ugly. He slid to the floor, shoulder to the wall and head in his hands, sobbing and sniffling no matter how hard he wiped his face.
He hadn’t even talked to Derek that much, and yet he still remembered so much about him.
His wits.
His persistence.
His kindness, despite it all.
He was grieving this relationship that was never meant to last. As much as he wanted it to, it would never have worked out. No matter what, he would’ve done what he did tonight. But somewhere out there, Derek grieves losing him, too.
Whatever you do at the crossroads. Keep moving forward.
Or something like that.
(I was never really good with endings.)
Derek slid back from his computer, leaning back in his chair. That was the hardest thing he’d have to write in so long. And it wasn’t even that good in his eyes. Though it was essentially a suicide note to someone he never really met, so it was probably good enough.
Someone’s going to read it. Many people are going to read it. Avery is going to read it and cry his damn eyes out. Regardless of if Avery sees it or not, he’s going to cry. And a part of him feels bad, knowing that he’ll never truly know what was going on between him and the King. Hastur. Damn it all, his head was splitting apart.
Death didn’t scare him. He knew he was dying— He knew he was going to die. Meal supplements couldn’t keep him alive forever. Staring at his screen couldn’t keep him alive forever. It was 11:57 PM. Almost midnight. He wasn’t going to last to see the new year.
Minecraft was closed out long ago, when he was certain the King was deep in his mind. What was one person compared to the eight billion on this Earth? What were they compared to everything in the universe? Was it worth it to sacrifice himself, to force the King into what remained of his shattered mind?
Yes, yes it was. Better him than Avery. Avery could’ve never saved him. And it wasn’t his fault for that.
11:58. A trail of blood trickled from his nose. Iron flooded his mouth. His breathing hitched. Quickly, he started recording his screen, making sure the Google document was open and not bothering to revise any of its contents. The ceiling fan in his room sounded too loud— or was that his PC fan? He fumbled for an empty bottle nearby, spitting blood and saliva into the top of it. His eyes stung, but he didn’t want to shut them just yet. Not before the fireworks. Even if his body was about to break.
About thirty seconds passed before his elbows slammed onto his desk, hands tangled in his unkempt hair. Tears pricked at his eyes and he was gasping for air at this point. Fighting for his damn life and yet he knew he had to give in. His head felt like it was being set on fire, smashed with a hammer, and cut into thin slices all at once. A scream tried clawing its way out of his throat, but he choked it down.
This didn’t feel real. He didn’t feel real. The palms of his hands rubbed against one another—a feeble attempt to remind himself that he was still here. Even though he knew he wouldn’t be here for longer.
Nausea washed over him, and a painfully familiar burn rose in the back of his mouth. God, this was hell. This was hell. He yanked out the cord connecting his microphone to his PC. More blood was spit into the bottle. He was starting to feel dizzy.
40 seconds was a long enough time to read the letter, right? It wasn’t like it mattered. Someone would find the folder URL either way, and the letter was saved in there. Still. They’d find it no matter what he did. Through doubled vision, he stopped the recording and uploaded the file to YouTube.
11:59. Nothing more to say than a thank you.
And as the progress bar ticked alongside the seconds he had to spare, his gaze finally left that godforsaken computer screen. The light outside the window seemed foreign. Soft, natural. A stark contrast to what he's been looking at for—how long, exactly? He couldn’t remember. After a few days, the hours started blending together into an indistinguishable blur.
A firework burst across the sky. He clung to the sight of it even as his vision flickered. Even as his eyes dared to close. He was going to bask in this minute of freedom, knowing that this was the last time he’d ever have it.
But the King was gone. And would be gone forever once he dies.
If that was what it took, then so be it.
Midnight came, and the sky lit up with colors. They were blinding, all-encompassing, coating his vision in bright sparks and hues. Red and yellow and blue and even more yellow—all dancing in front of his eyes as his consciousness slips away.
A distant bitter taste settled in the back of his throat. The pounding in his head slowed to a soft, faint thrum. Fireworks burst outside his window, though their echoes only sounded like light taps. It got harder to move, to think. But even as he grieved his own death, the thought of Avery kept reappearing in his mind.
His persistence.
His trust.
His loyalty.
He was grieving this relationship that was never meant to last. Somewhere out there, Avery was grieving him too. That on its own was the only comfort he needed.