Chapter Text
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Avery brings a hand to his mouth, yawning into it. His eyes feel heavy on his face, drooping every so often, but he forces his head up with all of his strength.
The sunlight pouring through the windows is enough to keep him awake. It’s a little early, but the mornings have been getting brighter as of late. The sky is drowned in hues of gold and vermillion, and it puts a knot in Avery’s chest. The sunrise is beautiful, and it brings flashes of gallant armor to his memory.
His gaze shifts to the bed in front of him, pristine white sheets and wires upon wires decorating the scene. There is a monitor beeping steadily, enough that Avery has long since tuned it out. There are clear, thin tubes strewn everywhere that make him feel a little sick. And, most importantly, there is Derek, eyes stitched shut and body clad in that stuffy hospital gown.
Derek has been getting better lately. Whenever Avery has to look at him and at the breathing tube on his face, he still feels a bit nauseous, but really, Derek’s been getting better.
The first time Avery saw Derek open his eyes, he’d panicked just a little. It was a mix of excitement and worry and all kinds of things, only for him to learn that Derek hadn’t really woken up. It had been disappointing, to say the least, and it’s been continuing this way for the past two months or so—with Derek moving his fingers and blinking his eyes every so often, but never truly waking up.
It’s been hard, but Avery is willing to wait. He’d fought through the same day five times, just for Derek; this is practically nothing in comparison.
He scoots a little closer to the edge of Derek’s bed, and he smiles. It’s all he can do.
“Morning, D3rlord,” he says, softly. “I hope you’re proud of me.”
Avery doesn’t move from his seat. He sits there for a long, long time, his eyes fixed on Derek until the sun begins to fall. He sits there, even as the nurses kindly ask him to take care of himself and give Derek space every now and then, because he refuses to leave Derek out of his sight. It’s nothing but horrifying whenever he has to go home, because it feels as if Derek could disappear and slip from his fingers the moment he looks away.
But it’s alright, because Derek is here. He’s still here, because Avery did it. Avery saved Derek, just like how Derek saved Avery.
It’s dark out. The gold in the sky has faded away, making room for the stars and the jet-black of night, but Avery does not move. He stays next to Derek, watching him closely, feeling his stomach churn with each passing moment.
Derek’s eyelids flutter for a fraction of a second. Avery swallows at the sight, hands balling up into fists against his knees.
He isn’t expecting much. He really, really isn’t. But Derek’s eyes stay open for longer than they usually do, and Avery cannot help the flicker of hope that makes itself known in his mind.
Avery’s heart begins to pound against his chest as Derek’s eyes begin to move, pupils slow and unsteady, and he can’t help but lean just a little closer.
“D3rlord?” he says, careful as to keep from being too loud.
And, for a long while, Derek doesn’t respond. Of course. Avery wrings his hands, never taking his eyes off of Derek.
“…Derek—”
His breath hitches when Derek’s eyes slowly meet his own. Derek’s head doesn’t move, but his eyes are locked on Avery’s, and it’s unmistakable.
Only one eye, that is. The other seems to drift aimlessly, slowly, and it looks… different, somehow. But Avery hardly notices in the dim light, because Derek is right here, and he’s looking at him. Derek is looking at him. They are both here, so very close, and they are both alive.
“Derek,” Avery breathes, every word that he wants to say slipping from his mind in an instant. “God.”
Avery reaches out a hand, gently placing it over Derek’s just to make sure he’s real. Derek’s hand is dry and rough against his own, but Avery couldn’t care less.
Derek’s eyes look a bit glazed over, like he’s just barely grasping onto the shattered fragments of his consciousness—and yet, his hand turns slightly, fingers brushing against Avery’s palm. Avery’s breath catches in his throat, and he instinctively gives Derek’s hand a light squeeze.
“Hey,” Avery whispers, trying with every bone in his body to contain his anticipation.
He doesn’t get a response. Not immediately, at least. Derek continues to stare back at him, eyes dazed and unmoving for the better part of a few minutes, until his jaw shifts slightly. Avery immediately sits up straight, shoulders tense, until Derek opens his mouth—only to be thrown into a coughing fit, dry hacks and wheezes escaping his lips.
“Hey!” Avery gasps, keeping a gentle grip on Derek’s wrist with both of his hands. “Don’t—don’t push yourself.”
Despite the warning, Derek gives it another try anyway, which, okay. His mouth opens slightly, jaw trembling, but nothing other than a hoarse sound comes out. It’s far too thin to be even remotely coherent.
Avery purses his lips and, almost on autopilot, links his fingers with Derek’s. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, his own voice quivering as he grazes his thumb against Derek’s palm. “You’re okay. Wait, hold on, uh—I need to—”
His eyes dart all around the room, frantic, before they land on a remote with a small red button. He remembers the nurses telling him before to hit the button should Derek wake up, so he reaches over and does just that.
Within seconds, there is the click of a door, accompanied by a couple of nurses hurrying inside. They quickly move to Derek’s bedside and politely usher Avery out of the room, much to his chagrin.
“I’ll be back in a jiffy,” Avery tells Derek, a light smile playing on his face, before reluctantly walking out of the room.
He stays there. He sits just by the door, every muscle in his body more tense than it ever has been. It feels like forever as he fidgets with his hands and tugs on his sleeves, and yeah, maybe he’d lied earlier, because he absolutely cannot wait.
He’d spent five days trying to save Derek. He at least wants more than five minutes with him.
Avery sighs at his own selfishness; he knows it’s necessary, but still. He swallows down his nerves as he hears the nurses through the door, asking all sorts of things of Derek. Basic identification questions, motor responses, all the expected stuff. It goes on for what Avery is sure is at least an hour. One long, tantalizing hour.
And then, Avery hears his own name.
“How did I… get here?”
“A young man brought you in.”
“Who?”
“His name is Avery Ramirez. He says he’s a close friend of yours.”
A long pause. “Where is he?”
“He’s just outside the room.”
“Bring him—” A cough, gross and wretched. “Bring him here.”
Avery springs up from his seat.
“Mr. Hutchins, please don’t exert yourself—”
“Bring him here.”
“…Very well.”
When the nurse opens the door, Avery is already there, hands trembling at his sides. She nods at him, allowing him space, and Avery gives a stiff nod back as he sprints into the room.
He blinks a few times once he’s there, standing right in front of Derek’s bed. Now, Avery can see him more clearly. The lights are a little blinding now, but they leave Derek so vivid, so visible, so real. Derek is looking directly at him now, no longer dazed, no longer disoriented.
He’s alive. He’s okay.
Avery purses his lips, feeling his eyes grow heavy with tears, and he can feel himself begin to smile.
“Avery,” Derek says first, his voice coarse and thin but no less gentle.
“D3r—Derek,” Avery breathes, feeling his heart swell up in his chest. “I found you.”
“That you did,” Derek says with a quiet huff, and for the first time, Avery sees him smile.
It isn’t merely a scene forced into memory this time. This time, Avery sees Derek smile, just for him. Faint, but there.
“You did it, Avery,” Derek whispers. “We made it.”
Avery sniffles, wiping down his face with his sleeve. It’s gross, but he really couldn't care less. “Yeah,” he says with a jittery nod.
He rushes to Derek’s side, sitting at the chair he’d pulled up beside the bed, and he opens his mouth to continue speaking when he catches sight of something that looks… off.
Derek’s eyes.
He furrows his eyebrows. He hadn’t seen it very well before, not with the weak fluorescent lights hanging above, but with each of the lights flicked on, it’s more than obvious.
Instinctively, Avery’s hand moves to Derek’s face, turning it slightly towards himself.
“Your eyes,” he mutters slowly, fingers trembling against Derek’s cheek. “They’re… yellow.”
Both of his scleras are tinted yellow, one pupil being the regular deep brown, untouched. The other, however, is a bright gold, and it seems to wander off idly.
Derek’s eyes flutter closed, and he leans his cheek into Avery’s palm just a bit. “The nurses told me. They can’t figure out what caused it,” he says. And then, quietly, his gaze moving up to Avery once more, “Does it look bad?”
“No, no! It looks, um,” Avery mumbles, before his eyes dart down towards the ground and he clears his throat. “You look… nice.”
Derek stares back up at him, and for the first time, Avery can finally see the emotion in that previously indecipherable still gaze. He looks a bit rattled, almost, a bit of color returning to his face.
It’s hardly visible, just the tiniest shift in expression, but Avery notices. How could he not when Derek was all he could bring himself to look at for the past two months?
“Thank you,” Derek finally says, his voice muted. Avery thinks that the beeping of Derek’s heart monitor has sped up a little.
“…Yeah,” Avery murmurs, instead of something more, well, normal. Whatever.
He glances towards the door in his peripheral vision; it’s empty, but he can hear the indistinct sound of conversation just beyond the door. Seems like the nurses have decided to give them a bit of space.
Avery wrings his hands, looking back down at Derek. “The, uh, yellow eyes,” he starts. “Do you think…?”
Derek nods. “It’s because of the King.”
Avery furrows his eyebrows, scrutinizing Derek’s eyes closely. “What happened? Did the plan work? I mean—well, obviously, it worked, but what happened to you?”
“It played out just as I’d expected,” says Derek, grazing a hand over his golden eye. “It seems like I’ve partially fused with the King.”
“How do you know?”
“See this eye?” Derek keeps his hand below the eye, and when Avery nods, he continues on. “I can no longer see through it. I woke up with monocular blindness, apparently.”
“Monocular blindness?” Avery repeats, eyes widening slowly. “Like, half-blind?”
“Right,” says Derek. “The King is… trapped in my mind, I guess. He can see through that eye, but he can’t control anything else. That’s why.”
Avery blinks, trying to make sense of it all. “Wait, wait, wait. He’s in your mind? What—is he speaking to you?”
“Mm. He’s pretty furious, that’s for sure.” Derek huffs, staring up at the ceiling. “But, as long as he stays confined to my head, it’s likely that he isn’t a threat anymore.”
Avery sighs with relief, leaning back in his seat. He frowns, though, thinking back on everything, thinking back on all of the knowledge. He wonders what had become of that, of the infinity flooding Derek’s head.
But he remembers something just then; he remembers what he’d overheard from outside the door mere minutes ago.
“How did I get here?”
“Who?”
“Where is he?”
Confusion. Derek had expressed confusion. He hadn’t known the answers to any of those questions.
Avery’s heart thumps against his chest. Does that mean…
“Derek,” Avery says slowly, “you didn’t know I brought you here?”
Derek shakes his head.
Avery swallows. “Then, the infinite knowledge,” he mutters, his voice trailing off.
Slowly, Derek’s eyes widen, though only slightly. He shuts his eyes, his forehead creasing into a frown, before he looks back at Avery with something close to shock. “It’s gone,” he whispers. “Well, a lot of it is.”
“A lot of it?” Avery echoes, furrowing his eyebrows.
“There’s still a lot I know that I wish I hadn’t,” says Derek, “but my mind feels more clear than usual. God, no wonder my head feels so much… emptier.”
Huh. “And you didn’t explode,” Avery quips, to which he receives an amused huff from Derek.
“That too,” says Derek, his lips just barely upturned. “I assume that the King’s presence in my head is causing him to bear a good portion of the knowledge for me.”
Avery squints, his eyebrows knitted together. Is a portion of infinity not still infinity?
He shakes the thought away, tilting his head down at Derek. “Well,” he says softly, “do you feel okay, then?”
“I’m okay—shit,” Derek curses, grimacing and pressing the side of his head down into the pillow.
“Derek?” Avery exclaims, feeling his heart rate spike as his hands race to grip Derek’s wrist.
“Sorry, sorry,” Derek mumbles thinly. “I’m okay.”
“What is it?” Avery frowns. “The King?”
Derek gives a weak nod in reply. “It’s just a lot to handle. Him being in my head, that is,” he says. “It still hurts, but it’s definitely better than before. I’ll manage.”
“What’s he doing up in there?” Avery grouses. “Is he saying anything weird?”
“He’s been saying weird things since the moment I woke up. I’ve tuned it out by now—shut up,” Derek hisses, muttering a quiet apology when Avery raises an eyebrow.
So, clearly, Derek hasn’t tuned it out. Avery wonders what the hell the King could have possibly said that was bad enough to finally pull a reaction out of Derek; he wants to ask, but as they say, curiosity kills the cat.
“That’s, uh. Annoying.” Avery tilts his head to the side. “Can you get him out?”
“I don’t think I can,” Derek says after a brief pause. “Nor that I should.”
Avery frowns. “Why not?”
“The nurses said that my body is extremely weak. Even they don’t understand how I’m holding up as well as I am,” Derek sighs. “But I think it’s the King that’s sustaining me. Unfortunately, he’s occupying a good half of my brain, if I had to guess. I hate to say it, but he has to stay.”
And Avery hates the way it makes him seethe, albeit only internally. It isn’t fair. Does it have to be this way? Does Derek have to live the rest of his life suffering with a cruel eldritch god just hanging around in his mind?
“Avery,” Derek says gently, cutting into Avery’s thoughts. “I can hear you thinking.”
Avery blinks. “Really?”
“Not actually,” says Derek, rolling his eyes. “But, it’s pretty obvious. Stop it.”
“But—”
“You saved me,” Derek interrupts. “You never gave up on me, and that’s why I’m still alive. Remember that.”
Derek hums, leaning back.
“I’d given up on myself at that point. So, thank you.”
God. He can’t just say that.
But, Derek is right. He is alive. Sure, there’s a twisted entity taking refuge in his head for—well, probably ever—but he isn’t dead. He’s alive because Avery succeeded, because Avery was finally able to make a change.
Because Avery had saved him from what seemed to be the inevitable.
Avery coughs into his fist, looking away for a split second before turning back to Derek. He smiles back, and he can feel his eyes crinkling at the corners along with it. “No problem,” he says, as if it’s just that simple.
It isn’t. It never will be. But they fall into a soft, comfortable silence anyway, and all that Avery can hear now is the sound of the heart monitor beeping, along with Derek’s rhythmic breaths.
They’re okay. They’re going to be okay.
Derek stays in the hospital for a week before he’s finally discharged.
It’s a little surprising. Avery had, admittedly, expected it to have taken longer, given the fact that Derek was knocked out for a whole two months. But, hey—maybe Derek has some sort of super-speedy healing ability with the King in his head.
Which is debatable, actually, because Derek can still hardly walk.
“Easy, easy,” Avery murmurs, carrying all of Derek’s weight on his shoulders. “You’re moving too fast.”
Derek grunts, just barely lifting his head up towards the parking lot of the hospital, and Avery follows his view. The sun looks nice today; the clouds just barely block it out, and they make room for clear pools of blue.
Avery turns to Derek’s limping form, and his eyes drift up to Derek’s own. The sunlight shines down onto Derek’s face, down onto his eyes, and there it illuminates the bright shades of yellow. It illuminates the specks of gold, makes them look brilliant, makes Derek look brilliant. It makes him glow more vividly than he already does.
When the sun moves out of the way, Avery clears his throat and continues down the road, keeping a steady hold on Derek’s torso. He walks them down to the lift he’d requested, quickly confirming the driver before getting into the backseat.
He buckles himself in and makes a move to help Derek with his seatbelt, before Derek stops him.
“I’m a grown man, Avery,” he groans with mock exasperation, giving the back of Avery's hand a gentle nudge. “I can put my own seatbelt on.”
Avery huffs. “You just woke up from a two-month coma, sleeping beauty,” he retorts. “I know you can, but let me do it for you.”
Derek is silent for a moment before he only hums in reply. Avery smiles, satisfied, and buckles Derek in.
The car ride is silent, for the most part. Derek’s apartment is a bit of a long way from the hospital, but that gives Avery time to himself.
It doesn’t help that he can’t stop staring at Derek. It also doesn’t help that he can’t stop checking his phone, making sure it really is March and not December 31st.
As they’re going down the highway, Avery coughs lightly, giving Derek a gentle tap on the shoulder. “Hey.”
After a moment’s pause, Derek turns to face Avery. “Mm?”
“I’ve been, uh, wondering,” says Avery. “What changed?”
Derek cocks his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed. “Changed?”
“I mean,” Avery rambles, gesturing with his hands, “what made you actually listen to me that time? Not that you remember, or anything, but you’d always end up sacrificing yourself in the past loops. Or lying to me. Or both. Usually both.”
Derek hums thoughtfully, closing his eyes, and Avery watches him intently. “When you told me that you’d been forced to watch me die over and over again.”
Oh. The guilt tripping. Avery purses his lips, resisting the urge to wince. It hadn’t been a lie whatsoever, but he still felt a little bad about it.
“…Really,” says Avery, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve.
“Really.” Derek sighs. “I didn’t want you to suffer. The thought of letting that happen killed me inside. That’s all.”
“Oh.” Avery clicks his tongue, his eyes darting from the window to Derek back to his own knees. “Um, thanks. I mean—well, I appreciate it. Yeah.”
Derek lets out an amused huff. “I guess I should thank you for guilt tripping me. I don’t know how things would have gone otherwise.”
Avery’s jaw goes a bit slack. It’s as if Derek just read his goddamn mind. Had Avery been that obvious? “You knew I was—?”
Derek points to his golden eye, just as amused. “This guy still knows everything. And, yeah. It was a little obvious anyway.”
Ugh.
Avery narrows his eyes, wrinkling his nose at the sight. “Huh. He told you? When did you two gets all buddy-buddy?”
“We didn’t,” says Derek. “It’s just inconvenient for us not to communicate, is all.”
Whatever. That doesn’t mean Avery has to like it. If that damn King ever manages to materialize one way or another and Avery catches him, it’s on sight.
Out of spite, Avery doesn’t respond; he refuses to engage with Hastur. Even if the guy probably knows exactly what he’s thinking right now.
He shuts his eyes, and he does not know how long for, but they snap open the moment he hears Derek’s voice once again.
“Oh,” says Derek, as if there was something he’d forgotten to mention. “Happy new year.”
Avery stills. He frowns as he turns to Derek, perplexed. “That was months ago, you know.”
“Yeah,” says Derek, his voice gentle. “But I thought you might’ve wanted to hear it.”
“Oh.”
Avery gazes back at Derek, silent, and he feels himself slowly begin to relax as a smile makes its way to his lips.
“Thanks,” he whispers. “Happy new year to you, too.”
The minutes fly by more quickly than Avery would have liked. He yawns into the back of his hand, and when he regains his focus, he begins to recognize the route to Derek’s apartment building outside the window.
Oh, and also, Derek’s head is on his shoulder.
Avery purses his lips, glancing sidelong at Derek’s sleeping form pressed up against his side. He can feel his own shoulders stiffen, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up on end, because what exactly is he meant to do in this situation?
Derek is cold. That much is clear. Avery knows that because, when he brushes his fingers against the back of Derek’s hand, it’s cold. But Avery doesn’t let go.
“Hey,” Avery whispers as the car pulls into the parking lot, tapping the back of Derek’s hand. “We’re here.”
All he gets in response is a low grumble.
Avery sighs, pulling his arm out from where Derek is just about numbing it and giving Derek’s shoulder a light nudge. “Come on. This isn’t my car, you know.”
Derek shifts slightly, eyes fluttering open as he picks his head up from Avery’s shoulder. He presses a firm hand to his head, his forehead creased into a frown, and Avery leans over to brush his locs away from his eyes.
“You good?” Avery asks.
Derek turns to Avery, silent, and Avery can’t decipher his expression. It takes him a moment before he responds. “Yeah. Just a headache.”
Avery smiles back before glancing out the window, seeing as they’ve just pulled into a parking spot. He leans over, giving the driver a hefty tip and a thank you before helping Derek out of the car, almost missing the troubled look on his face in doing so.
Almost.
He walks Derek down to the entrance, holding his weight on his shoulders once again, but he doesn’t open the door just yet. He stops, turning to face Derek, eyebrows furrowed.
“What’s wrong?” Avery asks.
Derek stares back, a bit tense. “Nothing.”
“Nothing,” Avery mimics. “Not nothing. There’s something wrong.”
“…Well, it isn’t important.”
“It is.”
“It isn’t.”
“Even if it isn’t, just tell me.”
Derek frowns, seeming to relent just like that. Avery had honestly thought it would’ve been harder than that. “You don’t need to do all of this for me.”
Avery stills. “What?”
“All of this,” Derek repeats, looking down at himself. “Doing everything for me. I can handle myself.”
And Avery genuinely has to do a double take, because there’s no way someone as smart as Derek is talking this crazy. “Sorry?”
“I can handle myself—”
“No, no,” Avery interrupts. “No way. I’m helping you because I want to.”
Derek pauses. And then, “You shouldn’t.”
“Well, I do.”
“Avery, I’m a burden in this state,” Derek stresses. “I can hardly do anything on my own. I don't want you to have to deal with that, after everything.”
God. He’s heard this before. He’s heard it all.
“Exactly! You can barely do anything on your own, and that’s why I want to help you,” Avery argues. “Especially after everything. I didn’t save you just for the sake of it, Derek.”
He exhales, long and shaky.
“You could never burden me,” Avery whispers, knowing he’s said it before, knowing Derek doesn’t remember. “Please, just… listen to me. Just for today, at least. Let me do this for you. You deserve it.”
Derek gazes back at him, his face entirely unreadable, and it makes Avery want to squirm. Even after everything, Avery has a feeling that Derek doesn’t believe him as much as he wants him to.
But, Derek sighs anyway. “Okay.”
It’s enough. Avery leads Derek into the building and up to his apartment, putting in the code and walking in. He heads down to Derek’s room, and when Derek hesitates, Avery smiles faintly.
“Don’t worry. I took care of it.”
Derek raises an eyebrow, and Avery pushes the door open.
It’s clean. The bed is made, the floors are spotless, and it smells nice. The room is clean.
Slowly, Derek turns to Avery, a thin layer of surprise over his face. “You…?”
“I hope you don't mind,” says Avery, a sheepish smile on his face. “I did your closet, too. Your mom told me how you like to organize it, so…”
Derek blinks. “You talked to my mom?”
Avery stares before letting out a tense laugh. “Maybe? A lot has happened these past two months,” he mutters, turning towards the closet. “Anyway, we should get you a shower. They washed you back at the hospital, but, y’know. An actual bath would be nice.”
Derek hums in acknowledgment, moving along as Avery walks to the closet and swings it open. Once they’ve picked out a set of actually comfortable-looking clothes, Avery brings them down to the bathroom.
He stares back at Derek, suddenly feeling a lot more awkward.
“Hey, uh,” Avery mumbles, still holding onto Derek, “you think you’ll be okay? You’re kind of, um, missing an eye, after all.”
Derek clears his throat. “Yeah, I will,” he says. “I can see well enough.”
“Okay.” Avery slowly lets go of Derek at the edge of the bathtub—not the shower, because the thought of Derek standing on his own for that long honestly scares Avery—keeping him steady. “Can you walk?”
“A little,” says Derek, holding onto the wall for stability. He’s still shaky on his feet, but he’s getting better.
Avery nods stiffly, swallowing down his nerves. “Just, uh, call me if you need anything.”
“…Okay.”
“Okay, um. Bye. See you.”
“See you.”
Avery gives Derek this nervous half-smile before dropping off his change of clothes, walking out of the bathroom all too slowly.
Once he shuts the door, he takes a deep breath and tries to chill out. Sure, the idea of leaving Derek alone for more than fifteen minutes is still a bit more than terrifying, but like Derek said himself, he’s a geown man. He may not be even close to tip-top shape, but he isn’t stupid.
And Avery will always be here, just in case.
He waits a minute or two, making sure that Derek is alright, and he sighs when he hears the water running. Now that he’s pretty sure everything is settled, he pushes himself off the door and starts towards the other bathroom.
He turns on the light and closes the door behind him, rubbing his eyes before meeting his reflection in the mirror. He doesn’t look too shabby, he thinks; his hair is a little mussed at best, but he looks alright.
Avery brings a hand to his face, lightly brushing against his skin. It’s as warm as it always is. He can feel it, and he can feel that he’s real. His eyes aren’t without dark circles, but he doesn’t mind all that much. He’s been taking care of himself over the past two months.
He’s learned a lot. Living through the same day five times totally messed with his head, sure, but he’s learned a lot from it.
It had never been difficult for Avery to try. It was different, though, when he had to keep going. It was easy to tell himself that he’d give it a shot, but never to keep on trying.
Five times, he’d failed. Five times, he’d wanted to give up. But he couldn’t, not even if he’d wanted to.
And Avery had made it through. No matter how many loops he’d endured, it hadn’t hurt any less, but he’d still made it through. He knows that when he reads 2026 after checking the date, and he knows that when he hears the sound of water trickling a few doors down.
Things could be better. Avery didn’t score himself a picture-perfect happily ever after, because Derek is still suffering in more ways than one. He’s got Hastur in his head, he’s lost half of his vision, he’s forced to relearn how to even live, and above all, he still can’t see how much he’s worth.
But, Avery will help him with that. For as long as it takes and forever more, Avery will make sure Derek understands that he deserves everything he’s been gifted, because really, Avery’s never known anyone quite like him. He’s never known anyone who would be so willing to give up everything for him over and over again.
It feels unreal, but Avery knows it isn’t. He knows that he isn’t dreaming, and he knows that he’d saved not only Derek, but himself.
Avery smiles, and the version of himself in the mirror smiles back. The man in the mirror isn’t different from him, not at all.
It’s him. It’s just him, just Avery, and he isn’t a monster. He’d won over the inevitable, and he’d saved Derek.
He takes a deep breath, turning away from the mirror and shutting the lights as he walks out the door.
They’ll be okay. Avery knows that for sure.