I came here by train today. A train. Still operating. On schedule, even. Apparently, even the apocalypse respected public transportation.
This wasn't really about what Xenon said yesterday, but I was genuinely impressed. There were still people going to work, buying coffee, arguing with ticket machines like the world wasn't about to implode.
The train was nearly empty, though. A few people stared into space like NPCs waiting for a patch update. The town itself felt hollow, quiet in a way that buzzed in your ears.
Nine days.
The world would end in nine days, and somehow it still felt fake. Like a rumor you half-believed but didn't want to check.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
After I knocked a few times, the door finally opened—about ten centimeters—held firmly in place by a chain lock. One suspicious eye peered through the gap.
"Good morning Xenon!" I chirped, way too cheerfully for someone who had technically threatened murder yesterday.
"Sorry," Xenon said flatly, "but I already have a problem with you being here."
"And if you're here for my brother, he's not home." His tone was passively hostile, like a cat with its fur standing on end, deciding whether to scratch you or judge you silently.
Cute.
"I know," I nodded seriously. "That's why I figured I'd just wait here. Honestly, isn't it wild how the world is still running normally?"
I plopped myself down right in front of his door and continued speaking through the crack like this was completely acceptable behavior.
"I mean," I said, gazing up at the ridiculously blue sky, "the end is right around the corner and all. Say, doesn't Doraemon have that one gadget? The World Destruction Switch?"
From behind the door, Xenon sighed so hard I thought he might pass out. "Do you mean Sands of Destruction? Or are you mixing it up with some other story?"
I snapped my fingers. "Yes! That one! Can you imagine if I had that switch? The world would've ended, like… fifteen times already. Maybe more. I lose count when I'm angry."
"Well, good thing you don't," he muttered.
"Exactly! That's what I'm saying," I nodded enthusiastically. "It's great for everyone that I don't."
"I don't care," he said. "Please just leave."
"You know," I continued thoughtfully, ignoring him, "you seem like the type who'd never flick the switch no matter what happens. Anyway—are you hungry? Where do you even get food living alone?"
Before he could respond, I unzipped my backpack.
"And what do you think you're doing?" he snapped. "Why are you opening a lunch box in front of my house?! Stop that!"
"Look, I'll just put this here," I said, carefully placing my axe down in front of the door like a peace offering from a very unhinged neighbor. I raised both hands. "In the current state of the world, no armed organization would bother attacking a civilian, right? So relax. I even bought lunch for you. How about we eat together?"
He ignored me.
Completely.
So I resorted to Plan B.
I clanged the gate. Loudly. Repeatedly. Like a dying wind chime.
"XENOOON—!"
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
"XENONNNNN—!"
A few moments later, the door flew open with a bang.
"What is wrong with you?!" he snarled, face red.
"So shall we eat?" I beamed and took one step inside.
He grabbed my collar and yanked me back. "Definitely not inside."
I was dragged—dragged—to the backyard like I was a stray cat he regretted feeding.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
I looked around, frowned… then smiled quickly. "Nice! It's got… style."
I wasn't sure what kind of style. Post‑apocalyptic abandonment, maybe.
The backyard was… tragic. What had once been a lawn was now a battlefield of dead grass and broken dreams. Everything was brown. The tree in the corner was leafless, standing there like it had personally given up on life.
"…They're basically dead," Xenon said, setting up a small table. "No one's been taking care of it."
I looked around. "Hey, where are the apple trees? I thought you said you were planting apple trees."
"That was a figure of speech," he replied through clenched teeth.
Once everything was set up, Xenon immediately opened the beef lunch box and started eating like a man who hadn't seen a proper meal in days.Yeah. Living alone definitely wasn't doing him any favors.
"So," I said casually, watching him. "You trust me enough to eat food I brought, huh?"
He froze mid‑bite, eyes wide, looking like he'd just swallowed a live grenade.
"Just kidding," I added sweetly. "The lunch box was sealed."
He visibly relaxed—
"So you don't think I peeled the seal off earlier and put something in it?"
He froze again.
"You have no reason to do that," he said stiffly.
"No one needs a reason to do bad things," I replied with a wicked grin, slowly leaning closer.
For a brief, fragile moment, in a dead backyard at the edge of the world, Xenon Sterling questioned every life choice he'd ever made—including opening his door to me at all.
He looked like he was teetering between three options: fight me, run screaming, or call the police immediately. Honestly, I don't blame him. From the outside, I probably looked like a lunatic who had just barricaded herself in his backyard with an axe, a lunch box, and a wicked grin.
I burst out laughing anyway. "Relax! I haven't had this much fun in ages!"
He pushed me away lightly. "You're insane, lady—"
"My name's Seraphina Sterling," I said proudly, puffing my chest out just a little. "Or you can call me Sera."
"Sera," he muttered, scowling like he'd just realized he'd agreed to babysit a hurricane. "Are you sure you didn't escape from a mental asylum?"
I beamed.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
We settled down, the lunch spread out in front of us on the wobbly table, and I couldn't help but watch him as he started eating. It was… oddly satisfying. He devoured the food like a wolf who had been denied sustenance for weeks, and I felt a warm, smug glow—yes, this was why I always bought the large portions.
As he ate, I couldn't ignore it: he was undeniably handsome. Sharper features than Argon, calmer eyes, a controlled aura that somehow made him even more magnetic. If he had a girlfriend, I could only imagine she was as stunning as him. Of course, that thought made me raise my eyebrows in mock irritation.
I might have stared too long.
He noticed. His fork paused mid-air, and his gaze pierced me like an arrow. "So… you really dated my brother?"
"Unfortunately," I sighed dramatically, resting my head in my hands. "Why? Did that bastard say something?"
"He told me to call the police," Xenon replied flatly.
I laughed so hard I almost choked on a chunk of beef. "That… sounds exactly like him. Perfectly fitting. Classic Argon."
Xenon's brow furrowed. "Why do you hate him so much?"
"Oh, just a lovers' quarrel," I said, waving a hand nonchalantly. "One that I haven't retaliated for yet."
It was simple, really. Argon had hooked up with not one, but two people, in MY bedroom, while I was… still there. Like a full-blown, messy, offensive statement. Everyone would sympathize with me if they knew. Everyone except Argon, apparently. No jury, no cops, no cosmic justice. So here I was, planning to exact my revenge with my own hands, before the world ended anyway.
"Please don't be vague," Xenon said, his tone sharpening with curiosity. "Tell me more."
I tilted my head and gave him a sweet, innocent smile. 'Some grudges were self-explanatory. Some things didn't need to be said aloud,' the thought alone was satisfying.
Instead, I dodged his question entirely. "I'm… thirsty," I said, placing my hand dramatically over my heart.
"I don't care."
"I'm so thirsty I might die before the apocalypse gets me," I gasped dramatically, flopping onto the soggy grass for added effect.
Xenon stared at me like I had officially lost my mind, then pointed toward the corner of the yard. "The hose still works."
I eyed the filthy green hose like it was Excalibur, then grinned devilishly.
I placed it gently in front of him… and cranked the faucet.
"FUCK—!"
The hose came alive like a possessed snake, blasting water everywhere.
Xenon screamed, arms flailing wildly as he desperately tried to shield his precious lunch box.
I lunged for the hose, giggling, and aimed it straight at him.
"STOP—PLEASE—!"
He fought back, grabbing the hose and turning the tables, drenching me head to toe. I screamed, slipping in the mud, and ran in circles, laughing until tears streamed down my face.
Sunlight caught the droplets like a million tiny diamonds. The dead lawn soaked it all up greedily, probably wondering when someone last watered it properly.
By the time I finally turned off the faucet, we were both drenched, looking like extras from a low-budget disaster movie. Mud, water, and sheer chaos clung to us in equal measure.
"You're really crazy," Xenon muttered, water dripping from his hair and eyelashes, looking both exasperated and… somehow impressed.
I laughed so hard my stomach ached. "Crazy? Maybe. But you have to admit, it's the most fun you've had all week!"
He narrowed his eyes, squinting at me like I'd just suggested eating live spiders. "…I've had better weekends," he muttered, shaking his head and trying to wring water out of his hoodie.
I straightened, brushing mud off my jeans dramatically. "Well then, I'll come again tomorrow! What should I bring?" I asked cheerfully, hands on hips like the queen of soaked chaos.
Dripping water, hair plastered to his forehead, and looking like he had been through a hurricane, Xenon sighed deeply. "…Beef."
"Beef it is!" I said, saluting him like a general planning the next battlefield.