Chapter Text
I can't remember your voice. I can't remember the way you called my name, the way your concern would make the hair on the back of my neck stand. I can't remember.. you.
I can't remember what color your eyes were.
I can't remember, Derek.
And I hate myself for forgetting.
Avery stood over a grave. One that held no body, one that was solely there for the purpose of remembrance, but what use is there if it can't do the only thing its good for?
What purpose does Derek's grave hold if Avery can barely remember him.
Avery found himself sitting there. The sand in his feet, coating his limbs, sticking to the slime. He can't find the strength to stand and leave because he knows that every step he takes away from that place is a step closer to completely forgetting someone he barely even knew.
Avery kept the book, kept the experience written down but each word inked within those leather covers made him want to rip the papers apart until nothing's left.
The sun looked yellow with that shade of orange that made him feel oddly cold—cold in a way that he tried to match the palette to how he knew Derek's armour—it's always off, it's always wrong, it didn't look the same.
Grief can be harsh, frantic, desperate claws trying to rip their way out of a book but that's just how it is.
Avery lay that very book on the sand, the pages lifting and turning as the wind blew past. He sat there, staring blankly at the name he wrote over and over again on all surfaces that remained. There were ink smudges, like water damage that looked oddly tear-shaped, but no, Avery can't cry, he doesn't cry like humans do, he doesn't have tears.
Derek's voice was something he kept conjuring in his head, trying and trying to play it and find the right pitch, trying to find that familiar octave that doesn't match up anymore.
That book held a history, a day, a memory of someone he can't even keep in his grasp, someone that was slipping away more and more like water through a sieve.
Derek.. was being erased, taken from the narrative. Avery hated the way his mind wasn't strong enough, wasn't good enough to remember and preserve his presence, the evidence of the time that there indeed was someone named Derek.
He sat there leaning against the stone, his gaze drifting towards the ocean. The sun had set, there was nothing but darkness as the moon shied away and hid from him, as though to show that Avery was utterly alone in his grievance of a memory that felt nothing more than bullet points on a piece of paper, like data that faded into nothing but words.
There's no more emotions running through Avery. All that remained was the burden of life, why did he have to stay alive and live for two people? Why was this.. such a tiring thing to do?
I don't know, maybe because two people died that day but only one stopped breathing.
I hate you, Derek.
I hate the way you think, your way of saving me and everyone else.
I hate your selflessness.
I hate your stupidity despite your smarts.
I hate your guts.
I hate your logic.
I hate you for putting yourself in danger.
I hate you for dying.
And I hate that I liked you in that short time we spent together.
And I hate that I can't feel that anymore.
“I hate you, you stupid madman.” Avery's voice was weak, hoarse. That's the first time he's heard himself talk in the past month since he woke up after Derek pushed him off that platform.
“I hate you so much.” His voice trembled, his eyes unable to conjure the tears he knew were a symbol of sadness humans have. He can't physically push himself to cry.
He stood up, weak and droopy as he stepped forward. He left the book by the grave where he had flowers in a vase, some blue orchids.
He stopped by the water.
He looked up to see the moon finally showing itself as his grip tightened around a vial of potion in his hand.
“..Until next time,” He echoed the only words he could remember. “See you soon, Derek.” Avery's words were barely audible against the crashing waves.
He brought the vial to his lips.
He popped the lid.
The dark, swamp water-looking liquid poured into his mouth. Poison, perhaps.
He stood there, feeling the way it immediately spread through his body, absorbed into his very slimy flesh until his very existence diminished in that very place.
It's weird.
How he could breathe better now.
Ah, no. That's crazy.
He's dead, so of course there wouldn't be anything now.
He can't feel, there's no pain, there's no grief.
It's just an endless void with a soul drifting, waiting to be found.
“Hello, Avery.”