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It was never really anything of great importance, Derek thought. Just a simple curiosity, a little twist of the handle. A turn in a direction that didn’t mean anything to him at the time. Finding a world that he had never expected– a world that had never been built, a world that shouldn’t have existed.
He could have stopped. At any time. But curiosity pushed him forward. His eyes burned when he stared at the screen, but he continued.
Past large mountains of trees. Past dark, endless hallways. Past water and caves and mazes and a single puzzle that he solved in 17 minutes, something that told him to not move in a certain direction, but the next part was only straight ahead. A single flick of his wrist later, he was moving on.
Past the fountain, past the town, and into the little church with a little trapdoor and a message telling him to leave.
Obviously he doesn’t listen. Instead, he destroys bookshelves and finds another tunnel and goes down and picks a random direction to turn in. Left.
Then he found a book.
Not the same as the church, with a lectern holding it open, but an honest to god written book.
A floating thing, spinning around like it had been recently dropped, at the entrance to a large set of yellow gates, suspended in void.
He checked the player list.
He checked the time.
He picked up the book that should have ceased to exist hours ago.
He opened it.
It told him not to go in.
It told him he was nothing compared to what awaited on the other side.
It told him to give up.
To stop looking for whoever wrote the book. To leave. To delete the world. To change his username. To stop. Just to stop. Not to even try. To leave.
Then, at the end— a letter. Addressed to him. Something that spoke to him about the wonders of the universe. About how beautiful the stars were and how they wished he could see it— but wouldn’t wish this on their worst enemy.
This. A warning. A symbol. A wish. From someone obviously human, from someone who he had not met before in his life, from someone who wanted him to curb his curiosity and leave, right when the answer to this mystery was right in front of him.
So Derek closed the game.
In every universe, Avery is the vessel. There was no matter if he was man or beast or god, as the one with a soul of green leaves and swirling stars and the galaxy in their eyes would always be the one to hold the wrath of an infinity that longed for more. In every universe, that being of infinity takes the form of a shepherd herding sheep and cattle, and in every universe, those cattle and sheep and worthless things took the form of family and friends and the people who lived and breathed and dreamt and wept and loved to the stars.
And so here he stood, at the edge of a platform that dropped off into an endless void of nothing, a sword in one sweat-soaked palm and blood dripping down the other. He is bleeding, he knows, and the bleeding is gold, and it trails down his face, trying to force its way past his lips and overwhelm him with a horrible, horrible metallic taste.
It is nothing compared to the clear drip, drip, drip of the IV he knows has been inserted into the arm of his physical body in order to keep him alive. He is laying in a hospital bed he hates hospitals and there is family surrounding him and they are crying and they are waiting and speaking and growing up and he cannot bear to see this happen, not without him by their side and in their memories and being with them
“What’s in your inventory–?” Are the words that force their way past his lips, and in another life, he knows, there is a knight in golden armor that tells him this, that distracts him and pushes him off of that very same platform in order to stop him from unwittingly hurting himself and the rest of the world in the process.
There is no universe in which Derek Hutchins does not turn left, and there is no universe in which Avery doesn’t follow after him.
Well, he thinks, until this one.
Perhaps this is for the best. This one universe. An outlier. An abomination. A singular typo in the words that made up existence. It could be erased.
He is going to take Infinity down with him and collapse every inch of it, until there is nothing left of its presence besides a blip in the endless swirls that make up the flows of time and space and dimensional theory.
How long had it been?
Weeks, months, years– three months two weeks four days seven hours fifteen minutes fifty eight seconds seven hundred thirty four miliseconds
He had been laying unconscious on that hospital bed. Waiting. Praying. Fighting.
So he raises his sword once more, and through his rapidly yellowing vision– his eyes are slowly filling, becoming more and more overflowed with those tears that contain the last of his mortality, the last of what made him human– soon he will become nothing more than an empty shell that has been reduced to an overflowing chalice from which Hastur will spill the tears of knowledge— he sees it.
Himself.
A mirror. A ripple. A being of dawn and dusk and sunrise and midnight. There is gold spilling from its eyes and mouth and it no longer has fingernails, gold is spilling from those too. Its eyes shine, shine like the sun in dusk and Avery finds himself briefly being taken back to all those times he found Derek and Derek found him and those times where they go to the beach and other times where they watch movies with beaches and other times where they paint beaches and sunrises and sunsets and there is one universe where Derek gets into photography, one where Avery finds passion in music and singing.
In some universes, Avery likes to surf but can’t stand the taste of butter croissants. In some, he grows accustomed to the cold of the mountains and knows recipes that would put a professional chef to shame. In some, he likes bugs and butterflies and hates the smell of melting chocolate. Avery himself isn’t too sure what he likes. He’s not too sure which one he is. Which Avery he is.
Perhaps all of them. Or none. Everything at once yet nothing at all.
His sword stays raised when his doppelganger appears in front of him, and the tip of the blade sinks deep into its chest as he stares into its sunlit caverns for eyes until it melts into the very cosmos itself.
Vessel. Vessel.
“Idiot,” Avery grits out, teeth grinding together his teeth are falling out they are growing in there are bones in his mouth and little mites crawling on his tongue
“You find me. In every universe. And still can’t be bothered to learn my name.”
The King doesn’t reply.
Avery sets his sword down, sits on the ledge with bloodied fists and torn shirt and holes in his jeans, and waits once more.
Code is something easy to learn once you figure out the fundamental steps and patterns to such a thing.
And Derek is persistent when he sets a goal for himself.
It only takes about three weeks before he finds a hidden folder within this laptop he had found in a storage locker, and not even two days before he’s cracked the code within only to be greeted with an address.
A hospital address, complete with a room number and a script to tell the doctors, which Derek immediately memorizes without much effort on his part.
When he finally gets to the location, his recited lines easily guide him toward the room mentioned within the message– and when he opens the door, laptop in hand, and spots the person within, it’s like the world has stopped, and the air has turned frigid and cold.
A frail corpse, at this point. What was once a young man was now surrounded by beeping monitors, rows of IV drips, and paper thin blankets that barely even cover his small frame. The window is open, but that doesn’t even seem to do anything. The sunlight dancing across his closed eyes cast a sickly golden glow onto his equally sickly pale skin.
It makes Derek sick to his stomach. What sort of cruel joke…?
He sits at the provided chair, its surface itchy and stiff even through the fabric of his pants, and he opens the laptop.
The first thing he checks is the code that he’s pulled up in a file in a separate window.
Nothing. Derek lets out an air of frustration and focuses his attention elsewhere.
Anything else on the device?
Nothing. He searches left and right and even takes thirty minutes to write a line of code– during which a nurse has come in and offered him a cup of water to which Derek graciously accepts. He watched the nurse refill the young man’s IV drip before whispering things to him about the weather and the time and the most recent events that have happened before promptly thanking the comatose patient for his time– a quick “thank you, Avery” that doesn’t go unnoticed.
Avery is a familiar name, but Derek can’t place his finger on it so he goes back to digging in the laptop.
Nothing.
And Derek is at his wits’ end.
So much of this terror and horror and suspense only for Derek to be led to the deathbed of this man he’s never known, as some sort of cruel, practical joke. There had been a script, for Gods’ sake, that Derek read aloud and he had been gullible enough to follow those instructions simply out of curiosity, of all things.
So, as a last ditch effort, he logs back onto Minecraft.
Unstead of the menu screen, there is another player standing on a round platform. It is surrounded by void. There is blood on the ground even though Minecraft is not supposed to have blood. It is gold and red and the other player isn’t facing him and there is a sword in their offhand
Derek freezes where he sits, hands hovering away from the laptop’s controls.
The other player jolts anyways, and turns to face him.
It’s a slime in a hawaiian shirt. That’s what the skin is. Something so simple.
Silence passes between the two of them, before a message suddenly appears in the chat.
<TheMostMayo> i thought i said to stop looking for me
<TheMostMayo> i thought i told you to give up
More silence, as Derek’s eyes pass over the words. Once. Twice. Three times.
<TheMostMayo> what are you doing in my hospital room
Fingers move down to type, before—
<TheMostMayo> no wait dont bother
<TheMostMayo> i know
what kind of sick joke—
<TheMostMayo> this isnt a joke
Derek freezes again, before slowly craning his head up to stare at the comatose figure, so frail and small.
He looks back down.
<TheMostMayo> get a good look yet?
Hands move down to type.
<d3rlord3> How is this possible
<TheMostMayo> i really wish i could tell you man
<TheMostMayo> actually i can but i doubt you’ll believe me
<TheMostMayo> that code you found was deliberate. it knew i was here and wanted to draw you over here
<d3rlord3> Explain
<TheMostMayo> you wont believe me
<d3rlord3> Try me.
Silence, for a while, as the other player bobs his head up and down in thought.
<TheMostMayo> have you heard of the king in yellow
“I’m going to die soon,” Avery chuckled, crossing his arms and tilting his head at the glistening golden projection of Derek Hutchins in front of him. “It’s already managed to get an influence into my mind. I just have to keep fighting it. If– when I corrupt that bit it’s left in there, then I’ll be able to speak the words. Then I won’t be pure anymore. Then I can take it down with me.”
Silence. Avery knows that the man on the other side of the screen is carefully choosing his words.
This is really hard to believe, the misty figure whispers. It’s not logical nor does it make sense.
“And that’s what it’s counting on. It wants you to think its not real, it wants a lack of defense against it. That way, when it finally succeeds, there will be nothing stopping it.”
Avery sighed. “But I’m going to stop that.”
But you’ll die.
“I was already dead the moment I stepped foot into those gates– thank you for listening to that, by the way. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t listened.”
A million things at once, but it was wise not to say anything about that.
You’re willing to die?
“Yup,” Avery popped the p, rubbing his arms to gain some semblance of warmth. “Like I said. I’m too far gone.”
The stories of the King in Yellow. Some have people recovering from it.
That they did.
“I won’t be one of those lucky ones, Derek.”
Then why am I even here?
“Hm.” Avery put a hand to his chin, smearing blood all over it but it wasn’t like he wasn’t already gross and disgusting and blegh already. “No idea. Maybe it wanted you to influence me into saying the spell early. Maybe to use you as a hostage. Either way, you’re here now. We can’t change that. I’m just going to ask that you leave as soon as possible. I don’t want anyone to see me like this, much less you.”
No.
“…Huh?”
I’m really deep into this, Avery. I don’t think I’m leaving.
“…You’re willing to watch me die?”
I’m willing to try another solution.
“There is no other solution, Derek.” Avery sighed. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve even thrown myself off of this platform– not fun, by the way. It hurts. Like a truck.”
Then I’ll do something.
“…you?”
With you. Here. Outside. Can’t hurt, right?
“…Huh.”
Twenty two million, nine hundred forty three thousand, seven hundred and fifty five ways this could go wrong.
One way it could go right.
“…Can’t hurt.”
Yup.
<TheMostMayo> can i get a thicker blanket first though
<TheMostMayo> its cold as hell and i know they didnt give me enough insulation for this place’s crappy ac
Derek blinks at the request, then sets the laptop down.
A bit of searching yields no blanket.
Derek pulls off his jacket, freeing the long sleeve from his sweater, and drapes that over the comatose man instead, making sure not to catch it on any important medical things.
As an extra precaution, he gently pinches the guy’s arm under the jacket before removing his hand.
He returns to the laptop to a few new messages.
<TheMostMayo> your jacket? nice
<TheMostMayo> ok you couldve just told me you didnt believe me you didnt have to pinch me
<TheMostMayo> my skin man
Fingers tap tap tap on the keyboard. Derek sighs in relief, but the new dread pooling in his gut doesn’t help anything.
<d3rlord3> Sorry, had to make sure
<TheMostMayo> couldve ripped my skin off and killed me on the spot
<TheMostMayo> so mean
<TheMostMayo> ok so we have to act fast if this is going to work, hospital staff are gonna come back in about 20 min
<d3rlord3> tell me what to do
“I’m a stranger to you,” Avery muttered, “so please don’t take this the wrong way okay?”
With the way your note from a few weeks ago went, I’d assume otherwise.
“…Sorry?”
Apology accepted. Now tell me what to do.
“So I’m… gonnaneedyoutodisconnectmylifesupprt,” Avery rushed out, and he sees Derek’s form briefly freeze, before flickering like a static tv.
WHAT.
“I asked you not to take this the wrong way!” Avery defended. “If you unplug my life support the same time I chant the spell, then the king will have to waste energy and time keeping my body alive! I can then twist that to trap it– hopefully that can hold it back, at least for a little longer.”
I am not unplugging your life support.
“C’mon!”
I want you to live, not to die??
“It’s my life, not yours!”
A pause.
I don’t want to get arrested for your murder??
Oh. Crap. Pulling the “Avery cares about him” card.
“I’ll make sure you don’t get arrested, promise.”
How???
“…Eldritch stuff. Knowledge stuff— okay Derek please. I’ll be fine! Just gotta time it.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
“Yes! Perfect!” Avery grinned, letting the hilt of his sword slip from his fingers. “Okay, I’ll know when you pull it, so just do it anytime, okay?”
DO NOT DIE.
“…I promise.”
A pause.
Then, distantly, Avery registers emergency alarms going off. Quickly, he runs through the spell in his mind before he opens his mouth—
Not so fast, vessel.
Derek’s laptop screen has gone black– having short circuited the moment he pulled the plug.
“…I’m actually stupid,” he muttered, moving over to the device. “I’m stupid. Gullible. Gullible. I just killed someone. Why did I do that–??? Why did I– gods, I just murdered someone. I can’t believe I—”
There are footsteps, frantic ones, running down the hall. Derek’s eyes widen, and he quickly runs over to the door, pushing a cabinet against it–
The footsteps stop at the door.
There’s silence.
The footsteps leave.
“…Avery?” Derek whispered, turning to the man laying in the bed. “Did you–?”
No response.
“You better have so many explanations when you wake up.”
“Heyyy Hastur,” Avery groaned. His chest– god his heart was stopping and starting and stuttering, and his breathing was shallowing—
“Finally show your ugly mug?”
Your futile efforts at ending your own life are useless, vessel, the thing hissed. I will find your soul. And I will find you again. And again and again and again, until what is mine becomes mine.
“Well—” Avery coughed. “I still have a spell—”
That you cannot speak, the thing crooned. Soon, you will have no voice nor conciousness to do so.
Oh– that was true. Avery could feel his mind wavering in and out, fading with each labored breath he knew his body was taking. Well!
“Well—” Avery coughed, and his legs gave out from under him. His knees hit the stone platform and he slumped, trying and failing to push himself up with now weak arms. “You’ll have to keep searching then. My soul isn’t that stupid as to give itself up to you.”
I simply need a vessel to interact with this world, not to influence it, it said, annoyingly amused.
It took a second for the words to process. Then Avery’s eyes widened. Crap.
Your existence is an added bonus. Not a necessity. You are nothing.
Nothing in the face of infinity.
This wasn’t infinity.
This was Minecraft. At least, a version of it. Avery was stuck in something that connected to Minecraft. That meant he could–
With great effort, Avery wills for something— something, anything, to happen.
A floating chat bar appears in front of him.
What are you doing—
The words are thrown in.
NO—
Fingers hover over a nonexistent enter key.
They press down.
<TheMostMayo> I STAND AND GIVE MY EYES TO YOU. ONE BY ONE. SHADOWED SHORE FAR UNDONE. TO YOU I POUR CORRODED SUN. WAKE ME AS ONE.
When Avery opens his eyes again, it is to dying sunlight and his head is being cradled in someone’s arms and the gold is fading from his eyes (it will take years before that influence is gone from his physical form) and he is frail and thin but he's breathing and his heart is beating and he is alive.
And he looks up, up into wide eyes and a warm smile and someone who risked everything coming here even though they never knew each other at all.
“…You found me,” Avery croaked out, voice hoarse and quiet to the sound of slowly beeping monitors and stabilized medical equipment.
“That I did,” Derek replied, his voice honeydew and warm, and his jacket is warm around Avery’s shoulders.
It will take a week for them to become familiar and less than a month to become friends. They will sit out in the garden while Avery relearns how to walk and Derek will hold his hand as he does so and show him all the code that Avery already knows how to use but it will be okay because Derek’s smile will shine the same as Avery sees him right now.
“Happy New Year. Sorry about the whole thing.”
“…” Derek’s smile softens, and he stares out at the setting sun. “There’s still six hours left. Plus—”
He turned back, glancing down at Avery.
“—Something tells me I’ll be glad to spend this with you.”