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Greif is a fickle thing.
People grieve family, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, uncles, aunts, cousins, grandmothers and grandfathers. People grieve friends, partners, co-workers and pets. People also grieve other people, victims of war, John Does, Jane Does, people they never met.
Avery was lucky he hadn’t grieved much in life. The number of funerals he had ever attended could be counted on one hand, and the only one he could remember was his great-grandmothers funeral, which he barely even had any memories of. Deaths he heard about online never affected him much, regardless of how horrible they were, and he felt sorry, and sad for the loss of the people's friends and family when he did read about them.
Was it possible to mourn someone you never knew?
Avery wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be mourning Derek.
He barely knew the guy. Yes, he knew his full name. Yes, he knew that he was given infinite knowledge. But he didn’t know him personally. He’d never heard his voice, he didn’t know the food the liked, or his favourite colour. He didn’t know any hobbies of his, his... anything.
It was such a contrast. d3rlord3 knew everything about AveryTheMayo. His name. His favourite food. His mannerisms, his opinions on everything. He knew everything that had, is or will happen to Avery, but Avery himself didn’t even know what he wanted to eat for dinner today. He didn’t know what Derek looked like.
At least, for a while.
He had had his TV on, playing the news. It was a ritual his family did, turning the TV onto a random channel as background noise for doing almost anything, and Avery had learnt to turn it on when doing a task that he considered boring. He was busy cutting an orange bell pepper for a salad, local news in the background, when the lady on the screen started talking about the next topic.
“Next, this segment will be about new information about the body that was found yesterday at the college-”
Ahhhh, so that’s why the police where here...
“...mentions of some possibly triggering scenes.” The screen cut to a shot of one of Averys collages apartment blocks, and he leaned to see the television clearer. A voice started talking over the shot, “Yesterday, emergency services were called to our college, after somebody reported smelling an odd scent whilst walking through a corridor. When the apartment was opened, a corpse was found on the inside. The apartment belonged to Derek Hutchins, who-”
Avery almost dropped his knife. Derek? Derek Hutchins? d3rlord3? He put the knife down and sprinted over to the couch, throwing himself at it, and turned the volume up to not miss anything.
“-nd dead. The body was promptly taken to a morgue to have an autopsy. We spoke to the man who examined it.” The scene changed to an interview with the mortician, who sat in a chair.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.” He spoke, hesitating. “The brain was... larger than average, not by a lot, sure, but still larger. The skull had plenty of pressure from the brain, likely due to its size which... doesn’t make sense because the skull should’ve grown and adapted to the brains size overtime. And its networks of neurons were... well, I’ve just... never seen anything like it. Almost as if there were too many.” Avery sat, mouth agape as the interview changed to pictures of Derek at various stages in his life.
The reporter continued, “The result of the autopsy concluded that Hutchins had suffered from a stroke, likely caused by being near a computer screen too long, as he was found on the floor near his personal computer.”
He... did say that he wasn’t able to look away from the screen, otherwise it hurt.
“His family have been notified. Dereks mother, Helen Hutchins, has already organised everything and talked about it on social media. She states that the funeral will be held in the city's cemetery.” A Facebook post appeared on the screen, and it took Avery a second to stop staring blankly at the screen and find his phone. He found Facebook and searched for ‘Helen Hutchins’. The post was from yesterday, and he read through it, confirming that the funeral was being held in the city in-
He stopped. And looked up. The TV was loud as the reporter talked about recent politics.
Was this the correct thing to do?
He was here, sat on his couch, in his apartment, staring at his phone screen at a Facebook post about a guy he met on Minecraft's funeral, posted by his mother. It felt messed up. Shouldn’t he just leave it?
The text said that the funeral was in a week. Avery sighed and stared at the ceiling.
Did he have any black formal attire?
That week went by agonisingly slow. He did have some vaguely formal black clothes in his dresser, which, thank goodness because he was a broke college student who didn’t want to buy an entire ass formal suit. He only bought some flowers the day before.
That day, he couldn’t bear to look at anyone during reception. Whilst his family spoke about how much they would miss Derek, Avery sat and refused to meet eyes with anyone. Due to embarrassment? Due to respect? Due to the fact that he couldn't stop thinking about what if they notice me and because they dont know me and they kick me out for no reason and what if what if whatif-
He watched as Dereks coffin was lowered into the hole, and when the time came, he put his bouquet with the others, on the grave. Next to it, were multiple photos of Derek. His pale skin, hair a dirty ginger, glasses that were perfect on his face in every picture. It was odd looking at stills of the man who knew everything. He gazed on as others continued to place flowers down, a fascinating display of pointillism, before a woman standing nearby noticed him and came over.
“Excuse me,” her voice was calm, yet her eyes were dark. “I don’t think I recognise you. If you... don’t mind me asking... how did you know Derek?” She tilted her head and smiled lightly at him.
Avery blinked for a second then cleared his throat, “Oh- I- Um- I, go to the college, and I...” He swallowed and tucked a dread behind his ear, “I just... think it’s horrible how a tragedy like this could’ve occurred to someone in the same area as me.” God, he phrased that weird.
She looked at him, up-and-down, and her eyes softened. “Well, just in case you were wondering, you can join in when we go get the food. Just having the family talk about my son would be... sad, I suppose.”
Thank God, she probably just thinks I'm an English major.
Avery looked at her, her eyes looked wet. His eyes shifted onto Dereks grave. In the pile of flowers, his eyes were drawn to the flecks of yellow in the mound. He swallowed. “Yeah,” He turned back to the lady, “I think some food would do all of us good.”
Later, it was past midnight. And Avery couldn’t sleep. His head was too full.
It felt like it should’ve all been over. It technically was. The King was gone, d3rlord3 had had his funeral, but it felt... wrong. Avery should put all of this out his head. Never think about the man whose funeral he went to, who he only personally knew for about maybe 2 hours. But he can’t. Maybe it was just because he was an incredibly sympathetic person. His father had once told him he was the most sympathetic person he’d ever met.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Derek. About Dereks life. The life he would never get to live. He wouldn’t know about the horrible decisions that politicians would end up making. He wouldn’t get to finish college. He wouldn’t get to know Avery. He wouldn’t get to hang out with him and talk about the future. He would never get to see the joy on Avery's face when he finally starts his transition.
A tear rolls down Avery's cheek, but he doesn’t notice.
He should forget. About Derek. About The King. About everything. The only thing that should come to mind when he thinks of the name ‘Derek Hutchins’ should be a John Doe. A person that doesn’t exist.
Derek told him, ‘At the crossroads, keep going forward.’, and Avery should do that.
But if you keep on turning left at the crossroads, you will always end up right back to where you started.