Chapter Text
There is a single thing more painful than having the all knowledge of the entire universe thrust into your all too simple, too small mortal mind, and that is falling in love whilst having this curse. Or rather, knowing you will. Knowing you now have, because now you know him.
Derek’s head pounds with the force of a thousand supernovas—it’s like he can feel every neuron pulsating, firing too fast, too much—and his fingers tremble against the keyboard. His vision narrows, tunnelling in on the screen ahead of him.
With a fear that’s primal, he scrambles, hands slipping over the keys as he tries to go back, to fix it, to warn him—but it’s hard when the thoughts won’t stop. They don’t slow. They don’t soften. They keep coming, pressing, filling, and his skull is too small to hold them.
His vision begins to blur at the edges.
Still, he manages to write.
Each movement is heavier than the last. Deliberate. Forced. Like dragging his body through something thick and unseen. He places the book in the chest, finger lingering over the mouse for just a second, and he’s about to breathe an exhale of relief—
—and then everything goes dark.
“Whatever you do, at the crossroads, don’t turn left.”
Avery mutters the ominous text out loud. He had never expected his video to blow up like it did— the Skywars videos never did this well— and he had watched the other extensive run-through of his own world and the previous owner’s experience, d3rlord3.
Here he sits on New Year’s Eve now, the image of his slime-green Minecraft character staring back at him, waiting. It does feel a bit creepy—he won’t deny that—and he’s still not sure what to make of everything he saw. Whether he even believes it. Yet it’s not like he has anything better to do.
The truth is, Avery hasn’t had much to do for a while now.
Ever since graduating last year, he’s found himself stuck in this dull, repetitive loop—wake up, work, go home, repeat. He never really figured out what he wanted after high school; a lack of direction which only stretched the rift already wide enough between him and his peers. And while everyone else seemed to move forward—applications, scholarships, plans—Avery just… didn’t.
Didn’t know how to.
Didn’t know where to start.
At least his parents were sort of nice about the whole thing— “Not everyone knows what they want to do immediately after graduation. Plenty of kids take a gap year.” His mother spoke as if trying to ease his father’s disapproval more than to comfort him— and as long as he keeps himself busy with work (so he doesn’t seem like a total freeloader), he has about a year until they started to urge him with more vigour to get himself together. After all, there’s only so long “figuring things out” sounds acceptable before it turns into something else entirely.
Failure, maybe.
Or worse—nothing.
So, now he’s here. Working a low-paying job at a convenience store, trying to look busy enough that no one calls him out on standing still. That's also where he found the abandoned laptop tucked away in his workplace’s storage room, half-buried beneath boxes no one had touched in years. And once he realized one of his favourite games was already downloaded, well… he couldn’t really resist.
Avery’s parents were out on a business trip tonight— working overtime, as per usual— so he had the whole evening to himself to... play Minecraft. God, that sounds depressing.
Avery shakes his head, riding himself of those thoughts, and lets his finger press record.
Just after a few minutes of following down the same path he had watched d3rlord3 go, Avery finds his attention narrowing, pulling inward, the rest of the world fading out. Playing in creative, he feels a sort of security. It’s silly—he should feel fine even in survival; this is just a game, after all—yet after watching the other YouTube video, he can’t seem to shake an unease about all of this. It’s only a faint feeling for now, though, and the buzz of adrenaline only makes the evening all the less boring.
At the crossroads, Avery turns left.
The golden doors loom over his character, tall and identical. Even from behind the screen, a chill prickles along Avery’s arms.
Still, he swallows it down. Keeps going. It’s fine. It’s just a game.
He approaches the doors, takes one final breath, and then—
“A block of gold?” he mutters, the tension breaking all at once, and he finds himself almost... disappointed.
What did he expect, anyway?
Something grander?
Something scarier?
Something less boring?
“Well… that’s that, I guess.” Avery mutters, wrist twitching as he moves to turn his character around and head back, when—for better or worse—something interesting does happen.
His head suddenly feels… heavy. Too heavy.
His vision starts to blur, the screen warps.
The room tilts—
And the last thing he registers is the dull thud of his head hitting the keyboard.
~.~
Avery blinks, stirring into consciousness, to realize he's lying on the ground. It doesn't take long for him to realize he isn't in his room anymore, but instead his face is pressed against mossy brick stones.
"Huh...?" Avery picks himself up, jaw going slack as his eyes wander around the immense hall before him.
Tall stone pillars stretch endlessly in both directions, carved with intricate patterns that climb toward a shadowed ceiling far above. Between each pillar stands a tall golden door, identical and unmoving, their polished surfaces catching what little light there is. Patches of moss creep between the bricks beneath his hands, damp and cold, as— wait. His hands. His hands. They are— They're covered in—
"Slime?!" Avery’s horrified screech echoes through the hall. His breath picks up as panic pours over him like a bucket of cold water until he finds himself gasping for air in a frenzy. He runs his fingers through his hair, over his neck, through his clothes—just as wrong, just as different—and it just doesn't get any better.
He spins around, catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the golden door behind him.
The figure staring back is still somewhat him—his features are mostly there, but… everything else is undeniably different. His skin has taken on a translucent green tint, faintly glossy, like something half-solid, half-liquid. It reflects the dim light in a way that makes it look almost gelatinous. His hair, though still in sort of uneven braids, the way it always was—close to the scalp in places, the ends left loose—now falls in soft, clumped strands that seem just a little too heavy, like they might stick together if pressed. Even his eyes look dulled, their usual clarity softened beneath that same strange sheen.
Avery recognizes his in-game character skin immediately, but that is to no comfort.
“W-What...” he mutters.
He pinches himself. Then tries again.
When that doesn’t work, he opts to slap himself across the face.
That doesn’t work either.
“But... how?” Questioning it doesn’t help, and there isn’t anybody nearby to answer Avery. While the change of his physical form and location start to settle, another point of turmoil rises in his mind.
If all of this was real—so, so unbelievably real— then what about that other person? D3rlord3, was he okay? Was he also… here?
I need to find him.