Work Text:
Tick…
Tick…
Tick…
Blaring. Loud, uninterrupted, blaring. Panic shoots through Avery’s spine, his body jolting upright in a cold sweat as he searched for the source. The wretched sound pierced his brain and through to his nerves which wracked further with every passing moment. Surely he was dying, the flatline getting louder and louder until it was consuming. His mind frantic, Avery checked to his surrounding but it was all wrong. A hospital bed, the blaring sourcing from there. He scrambling through the sheets pleading and bargaining with death ‘please don’t let this be it, I can’t go on with him!’ but the horrid sound only continued its vile taunts. Searching, searching for his partner, his love, in the mix of scratchy blankets and wired connections but Avery’s hands came up empty. Until they brushed something, a small metal device, that continued to sound with much panic.
His phone. Avery’s phone.
It was his alarm.
It was then - the device sitting innocently in his hands - that he took a look back at where he was.
No hospital ward. No hospital bed. No flatline.
As Avery struggled to catch his breath, heaving and splutter, he found that indeed he had been having a crisis over nothing at all. Derek was quiet, his chest following the rhythmic pattern of a slow rise and fall that - despite there being quite the commotion - stayed steady in a deep sleep. To verify that it was indeed real, Avery buried a hand into the knotted hair of Derek, massaging his head as if to soothe the nonexistent turmoil that he didn’t face. It wasn’t just a kind gesture, the rough texture of his scalp provided Avery with just the right amount of feeling to ground him back to the truth. Derek wasn’t dying, he wasn’t dead, he was very much so alive.
Hazel eyes cast back down to the object at hand, his phone long since stopped its chatter and was now silent. The whole room, in fact, was silent. Nothing but the occasional heavy breath or snore from who was sleeping beside him. The time read 6:30 AM, a time Avery hated to be conscious at but couldn’t dare reach for more sleep, in fear he would miss the bus for his journey to work. A job, which he also hated. A slow, monotonous, repetitive program that if he could escape then the chains would already be shattered. Someone had to provide for the pair though, so Avery took some initiative and made it him.
Pulling his feet to the side, he slogged from their shared room to the kitchen. Their apartment was small, but both preferred it that way. Proximity was necessary, distance was pain. As he traced the patterns of the countertops, Avery finally stopped his journey in front of the fridge. Some days he would prepare a meal the night before, productivity proud of his advancements into its arms. But nowadays, he lacked that initiative which meant preparing food the morning of. Typically, he would make Derek something too that could be refrigerated for when the man finally awoke; around sometime at 1 PM with a brief awakening sometime before that when Avery left. He enjoyed caring for his partner, providing anything he could. Derek suffered enough anyway.
Since their journey on new year’s eve, and Derek’s brief introduction to death and his rebirth into the world, his mind had been plagued with perilous headaches and migraines. They had tried every medication, every treatment, but the King In Yellow’s grip was holding strong to Derek’s mind. Some days were better than others, he could leave the house and actually have an enjoyable time. But most days were spent bed bound by the turmoil. Avery had got into a routine of cooking two times the amount he had before, tedious but to him it was nothing but love that he wouldn’t give up ever. As he chopped fruit to make them yoghurt bowls, he could’ve sworn a smile cracked just at the thought of his partner. His boyfriend. Avery’s boyfriend. His Derek.
Slipping too deep into any thought was of course dangerous, and a stark reminder that he didn’t have time to waste came quickly as he sliced into his finger. A mistake, a careless one, a mistake only an imbecile could make. Avery chewed the inside of his cheek until it bled, frustrated with himself and his lack of intelligence. He didn’t bother to wash the wound with antiseptic or bandage it up, he simply cleaned it with a towel and continued chopping until it seemed as though there was enough for the two of them.
Once the food was completed, Avery took the bowls back to the bedroom, in the only part of his morning that wasn’t guaranteed. The 10 minutes he spent eating, sitting at Derek’s feet on the bed, keeping an eye as he slept. There was a mini-fridge beside Derek’s designated side of the bed, where Avery had stored the food he made. It made those bad days easier for Derek, and when Avery came up with the idea it was a blessing for both of them. Now, Avery sat staring at his bowl, spoon untouched, mind closing. His eyes were dead, half lidded as he let his brain take him elsewhere. Repeating over and over that memory, that sound, those feelings. The crash of fireworks bounding in the sky, the clatter of footsteps running on cement, the metal of wheels rolling frantically.
The flatline.
And then his alarm sounded.
As was usual, when the room was quiet and he wasn’t occupied, Avery kept spiralling into further pain. Silent, but deadly. He had to keep his phone full of alarms during his morning so he wouldn’t completely dissociate until he was being called by his boss asking about his whereabouts. The noise sliced through all his thinking, and he was quick to shut it off this time; worried if he awoke Derek. From his phone screen he turned his gaze back to the uneaten food, typical. He shoved it with Derek’s own bowl, and if he was questioned Avery would excuse the extra bowl with making sure Derek was extra full. He didn’t need any more of Avery to burden him, Avery was already clingy enough as it is.
The morning proceeded without interruption again. Shower, clothes, packing lunch, it was all the same as every other day. As Avery was about to say goodbye for the day he hesitated, hand hovering, shaking, above the door handle.
Should he even bother?
Contemplating, he stepped back, fearing the worst. At the back of his mind, he knew, of course he did. Derek would never actually be bothered by his presence, in fact he was alway delighted to be greeted with a small portion of Avery’s love right before he left. But now, it was tricks, it was lies, it was his mind insisting he wasn’t worthy.
Derek was so much more the person Avery could be. He was smart beyond words, almost a Harvard graduate if he hadn’t explored that world. Derek was kinder, he wanted to bring the world joy and every smile he cracked spread to the entire room. His energy lit up everyone who spoke to him, even with his newly formed conditions that sparkle never died out. And above all he was determined, he never once let anything stop him. Not the King, not the pain, not the trauma.
He turned the handle, Avery truly was sick. Sick to interrupt his slumber, sick to disturb the peace he deserved. And yet he did.
“Derek?” he tapped his shoulder lightly, holding his breathe.
It was quiet, then it wasn’t.
“Leaving already?” Came a voice, a slightly gravelly one but still a voice.
“I’m later than usual, Derek.” *Avery couldn’t help himself, he chuckled, amused by the words. Every sentence spoken was like music, a perfect harmony that charmed Avery.
“Then go, don’t let me hold you back Avery.”
“I won’t.” Avery smiled, tuning back towards the door to make his exit.
“Avery?”
“.. yes?”
“I love you.”
A beat. A moment. A breath of fresh air. A shine of light into his soul.
“I love you too.”
Maybe things weren’t so bad.