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Sunrise peeks through his windows.
It's not particularly bright. It's cloudy, outside, so the light is dim. Grayed out. Leaving everything just a tone off, a little too pale, a little too dulled.
Avery looks out the window.
There's practically no one out. The few people he sees are stumbling along, in groups, coming back from their new years parties, probably. He looks at their tired but satisfied faces, their laughs that hang in the air a little too long, and turns away from the window.
It's the first day of 2026.
…It's the first day with Derek dead.
Avery inhales sharply at the thought. It's painful. A jagged piece of glass, that bleeds and bleeds as he tries to pick it from his mind. A wound still too fresh, too new. Blood that doesn't stop pouring off his injury, not even able to coagulate from how fresh it is.
His room feels suffocating the longer the thought rests on his mind. He's been here, trapped — paralyzed— by his grief for hours, and by now, the walls seem to press in. To suffocate him. Drown him in the misery that clogs his brain, that leaves the memories blurred and distant, almost out of reach. Clear enough to grieve, distorted enough to not recognize it.
Avery stumbles out.
The door closes firmly behind him. A thud that echoes in the silent apartment building, like the closing of a coffin.
He's dressed in only a thin short shirt and some sweatpants. The same thing he has been wearing for almost over 24 hours, what he chose to wear when he thought he had an opportunity to succeed. What a fool. What a fool he was.
His feet guide him automatically, almost, depositing him safely outside his apartment building. The streets are empty, save a few drunks. A typical morning after New Year's Eve. Avery walks.
There's nothing else to do.
The grass is wet with dew. The birds are still sleeping. Trash is waiting to be picked up by the curb. There's a brisk breeze ruffling the tree's leaves. He spots stray dogs lapping at spilled drinks that have been left behind in the streets.
Avery wonders where Derek is. Where did he live. If he got to see the fireworks. If he left his window open. If he was dressed comfortable. If his neighbors were celebrating New Year's Eve. Did he live in his city, or far away.
I'll tell you after, Derek had written, I'll tell you what's going on soon.
Avery couldn't remember it, exactly, but he had seen the footage when he had woken up later, checking his own recording in hopes of understanding what had happened. The proof that Derek had existed. That Avery hadn't imagined him. That someone had existed, had lived, had sacrificed for this. Another stupid morning in an uncaring world.
I'll tell you, Derek had said.
Had tried to promise.
To lie.
Avery knows he had been lying but. He still wonders. Did he live nearby? Did Derek, with all the knowledge in the world, realize how close the two were?
Had they seen each other, accidentally, in the streets, just another faceless stranger of their daily lives?
A stranger in the background, another face that nobody paid attention to?
The mere idea of it torments him. The possibility that they had seen each other once, that maybe, if things had been a little different, if the universe had been a little kinder, they would have known each other face to face. That he would have known what Derek looked like. What his laughter sounded like. What jokes he liked to tell.
That he would have a face to grieve for.
Instead, all he has are pixels. Videos of their horrifying experiences. The recordings of their pain. That's all Avery has of Derek, and all he will ever have of him. Just his pain, his fear, his panic. Somewhere in his laptop —Derek's laptop it was Derek's— lays a drafted email to the guy he had contacted, waiting to be written, to be sent.
The guy had helped him find Derek. And yet, no small part of him rebels at the idea of sharing what happened. Especially knowing it would just end up as a youtube video, a thing for people to watch for entertainment and nothing else. Something in him rankled at the idea of sharing his, no, their pain for the internet to gawk at.
Another "scary" video. Just a silly fiction.
People to make jokes about his experience, about Derek's, make stupid memes and laugh at their lives.
But he doesn't send it, if he doesn't tell the guy in the internet about what happened. Then. Who else will know about Derek?
Who else will know what he sacrificed? What he did for everything?
Who else will mourn him?
Avery doesn't want to share what they experienced together, the horror that had transformed them, but that line in Derek's —goodbye— letter haunted him.
Why i recorded all of this? I don't know. well. i do know. I just don't wanna be forgotten.
Almost nauseous, Avery stumbled and only not managed to fall face first by quickly sitting in a bench nearby.
Derek didn't want to be forgotten. He didn't. So why should Avery keep him from the rest of the world? He wanted to be remembered.
He deserved to be remembered.
Avery took a shuddering breath, letting his head hang back as he tried to regain his composure, as emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Breathe, he told himself, just breathe. He was pathetic enough without adding crying in the street.
He tried to distract himself by looking around. His feet had dragged him to a nearby park, as he walked lost in his thoughts. It perhaps once held a playground, but time had aged it beyond use. The plastic structure laid, half broken, yellow sunbleached by exposure and almost overtaken by vines. A nearby metal slide had rusted beyond what could be classified as safe, old metal exposed under the peeling paint, bent and broken.
It looked distinctively ruined, in a way Avery's mind was unsure how to describe.
The grass was scarce under the structures, the soil perhaps still remembering when once upon a time dozens of tiny steps would trample it without a care. Old oaks, bent low to the ground, still held scars in their trunks, form where once children perhaps scaled it in their little games. A swing, without seats, held vigil in the corner, metal frame looking as if it still remembered how it had held each little life as they played.
Avery looked around him, and found himself even more saddened. A strange kinship flared inside him, looking upon this abandoned playground. The two of them, abandoned, left behind by what had made them special to begin with.
"Oh Derek," Avery whispered, heartbroken, watching the abandoned playground in front of him, "What am I meant to do now."
Silence answered him.
Shivering, Avery hugged himself. He felt cold, small even.
"You're gone," He said, kicking halfheartedly at the ground below him, "You're gone, but I'm still here. What am I meant to do with that."
How am I meant to grieve you, he wished he could ask, how am I meant to grieve you when I don't even know you?
The laughter of the drunks drifter near. Avery watched a couple stumble, the guy falling to the floor, while his friend laughed to the point of tears, both so drunk they could barely even stand.
Is this what you sacrificed yourself for, he thought almost bitterly, abandoned playgrounds and stupid drunks?
Was this worth your life?
Avery glared at the park, almost wishing he could summon all the anger that this ought to have incited in him. Derek had lied, had betrayed, had said sweet empty promises to Avery, all so he could go and kill himself. Had said that there had been no other way, no other solution. What a coward.
He didn't even try. That was what most angered Avery. He hadn't even tried. Had just been willing to give up his life, no problem, for it. What a stupid asshole.
What a stupid, awful, lying and bastard. Avery wished he could even be angry instead of just sad.
A loud whistling sound, followed by the rustle of wings suddenly yanked him out of his unhappy thoughts.
In front of him, a bird flied down from its perch and stood upon the bare ground. It was a soft brown, the tips of its wings speckled with black spots. It ruffled its feathers, giving a peck to the ground before it stood straight, and started to coo.
Avery watched in silence, as the little bird's throat bobbed up and down while it sang. It would give a first coo, going up sharply, before just repeating it gently, pausing after finishing as if awaiting an answer.
"I don't think anybody is gonna hear you, little guy," Avery couldn't help comment, smiling sadly at the bird, "It's awfully early and it's cold."
The bird's warm eyes regarded him for a second, but quickly ignored him, continuing to call out, its brown head bouncing up and down as it sang. It was similar almost to an owl, in Avery's opinion, but still a nice sound. A little bit sad, but nice.
"There's no use," He told it, "It's too cold. You should go find somewhere nicer, y'know?"
The bird continued to sing, as if to spite him.
"It's not worth it," And suddenly, Avery didn't know if he was speaking to the bird or to himself, or maybe Derek, "it wasn't worth it. I'm sorry."
The bird sang.
And another answered back.
Avery startled, and looked around, but could not see the new bird. And yet, he could hear it sing back, that same mournful sound, as it answered the one in front of him.
The little singer paused, and puffed its feathers, looking like a little ball of fluff than anything else. And its song changed. A coo that went up sharply and then back down, as if trying to say come here check this out.
"…Huh," Avery said.
With another rustle, the bird flied away, its call echoing across the park. And above, in the skies, the clouds parted, just enough to let a sliver of sunlight touch the ground.
Avery watched the dappled shadow stretched over the ground, swaying with the breeze, for a long time. Now, with the light, the park looked better. More alive. He could hear, in the distance, tired moms being dragged by their children towards the park. More birds waking, swinging from the branches of the nearby trees, puddles of water where new grass was beginning to sprout. A morning slowly reassuming its usual routine.
"Oh." Avery said.
It was a new day, and the world was still alive.
That was worth something.