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Avery couldn't stop crying.
He couldn't stop shaking.
The tremble in his hands and legs just wouldn't go away.
He was on the floor, beside his chair, almost under his desk. The blue light from his computer -that god forsaken computer- the only light illuminating the still dark room other than the small slivers of moonlight that dared peek from the curtain into the tragic scene of Avery's current sorry state.
For a few moments, he didn't know what happened. He was front of his computer, at his desk, Minecraft apparently open, and a death screen display.
Then it all came rushing back as soon as the fireworks started.
Derek.
Oh god, Derek.
After remembering that single name, beautiful in his mind, Avery tried oh-so frantically to log back into that world.
He didn't care if he died, he just couldn't live if he was actually gone.
Then he got the notification.
Derek Hutchins posted a new video
He's never followed a Derek Hutchins. But he knew exactly who it was.
The video broke him.
Everything about this broke him.
For a bit, he called himself pathetic. He barely knew this man. Heck, he didn't even know this guys voice.
But something about the fact he was gone, after everything they went through in literally under 24 hours.
Made him feel so incomplete.
…How did he fall in love so easily?
No…This isn't just one of those “I love him, he saved me.” crushes.
He feels this pain deep in his chest, to his core, to his soul.
Do soulmates exist?
…He supposes Derek would've known.
~ ~ ~
It took him far too long to get back on his feet, but Avery honestly couldn't care less. He felt so empty inside. He felt like there was nothing else to live for anymore.
Distantly, he knew that was far from the truth, and even farther than how he would want him to live and feel. He had his college friends. He had his parents, who, while not the best, were trying to be better over the years.
He genuinely felt like he had a piece he never knew was missing returned only to have it ripped away from him again in the most storyline way the universe could create.
He'd look at everything, and end up thinking of him.
What his eyes could've looked like, what his voice could've sounded like, what his style would've been like, what his music taste would've sounded like.
He knew he was chasing a ghost.
He knew this was destroying him.
He knew this isn't what he would've wanted.
And only because of that, does he find himself able to attend his lectures again, although it's clear to absolutely everyone that something happened.
He was the kid that was always dressed up, no matter what. Styled curly hair, piercings to his ears, nose and lower lip, fishnets and arm warmers. The alternative, hyper, chill final boss. People could spot him from a mile away. People would say hi periodically while walking through hallways or at the library.
He was basically the popular kid. The one everyone knew and that was chill with practically everyone.
Then he disappears for 2 weeks without notice, and comes back in a black hoodie, none of his stylistic tendencies, and no emotion nor energy to his eyes.
His friends were so worried, and he appreciated them, he truly did.
But he just couldn't find himself to care about anything really.
It must've been really bad, even his lecturers came up to him, asking about how he was and whether he was doing alright and if he needed any help or someone to talk to.
When he said no, he knew he was incredibly unconvincing. But he just couldn't care.
Slowly, weeks turned to months, and while he never got worse, he never got better, either.
Everyone noticed it. Obviously they did. The amount of times his friends suggested therapy was sky high by now.
He'd smile, say “Thanks for worrying about me, but it's fine.” and he knew they knew he was lying.
He doesn't know how he's still able to keep up with his grades, he honestly just feels like he's on autopilot 24/7.
Considering the fact he's a psychology major is honestly kind of laughable. Ironic, even, looking at his current mental state.
Sometimes he just lays on his bed after his body finds nothing else to do.
Avery wonders whether he's watching over him.
He wonders if he'd be disappointed. He knows he probably wouldn't. If anything, he'd probably be horrified and concerned as all hell. Avery laughs at the thought, because he's thinking like he ever truly knew him at all.
12 hours, he spent searching.
He barely had 2 before he was alone again.
His parents called every now and then, attempting to arrange get-togethers and dinners.
Avery remembers the days he'd spend alone at home because they just were too tired to deal with him every time they tried.
He'll stay polite, friendly, and tell them college was busy and he should focus on his studies. They'd say they understood, and leave him alone for another week or 2.
That's how he spent his life for months after everything, completely on autopilot and barely finding the will to care about anything regarding himself.
Then the coughing started.
It was mild, at first. Small coughs throughout the day, a building soreness growing in his throat. Avery figured it was just a cold, and reassured his friends when they asked.
But the coughing only got worse. More severe as weeks passed. Full on coughing fits at least a few times a day, his throat felt ripped apart, and he felt a growing tightness in his lungs, like something other than oxygen was filling the space within his what felt like deteriorating body.
It got so bad that the lecturers just told him to stay home and get some rest.
After a full month of his coughing only increasing in severity, his friends convinced him to go to the clinic.
The doctors found nothing despite his clear symptoms.
They tried test after test and nothing showed up. Avery didn't know what was going on anymore, but he honestly couldn't care either.
He just stayed in his apartment, practically rotting away, barely eating, always sleeping, never once touching that goddamn computer. (He started using one of his older ones for assignments, he kept that computer hidden away in his drawers.)
Then one night, he was coughing again, but he felt something solid come up his throat.
When he ran to the sink and spat it out, he found a blood and spit soaked petal in his hand.
A forget-me-knot flower petal
His mind immediately started scrambling for an explanation. For logic.
It shouldn't be possible for a flower to spontaneously grow within…someones…lungs…
His train of thought trailed off, realising the similarities of his situation and what was supposed to be a fictional trope.
Hanahaki disease.
You know, that one fan fic illness people love using for angst?
But. That's the thing.
It was supposed to be a fanfic trope. Something fictional. Something that remained within the stories of characters that weren't real. It shouldn't be possible for Avery to be showing signs of that exact illness.
Then again, how many people could say that a god was after them?
…God, the universe must've just hated him. Did he draw all the short sticks, or what?
Neglectful parents, being the “weird kid” all throughout school, never really feeling like enough.
Then a freaking god comes after him, and the only one he ever felt a true connection to sacrifices himself for him and the world.
Then he somehow get hanahaki over that person, who is dead, and has been dead.
In simple terms, Avery is completely fucked in every way imaginable.
There's no way in hell that doctors would even believe him.
And even if they did…
In the tropes, there are only 2 ways to heal.
To have that love reciprocated. To which, Avery somehow knows with absolute certainty that if he were still alive, he'd reciprocate that love to him.
Or…To remove the flowers and forget the person he loved entirely.
And like hell was Avery allowing himself to forget Derek again.