We were sitting on the sofa—Xenon buried in a book, flipping pages like nothing could disturb him—while I, of course, couldn't stop staring. Then I looked around the room, then back at him, then around again. It was like my eyes were playing tag, and he was it.
"Do you have anyone you like, Xenon?" I asked casually, leaning forward. "You're not going to school just because you want to meet them, are you?"
I didn't even know if anyone was going to school anymore, but let's be real: school is always the default romance battlefield. Kids study there… and hook up there. And honestly? The hooking part sounded way more believable.
"I don't," he said flatly, eyes glued to his book like my question was a mild inconvenience at best.
Even if he did have someone, there was zero chance he'd admit it. I scrutinized his expression, trying to catch a crack in that ice wall.
"So… Xenon," I started slowly, testing the waters, "are you still a virgin?"
His head snapped up so fast it almost gave me whiplash. "How did we go from 'romance' to that in two seconds?!"
"Wanna experience hooking up at least a bit before the world ends?" I said with a cheeky grin. "If there's someone you like then you should go confess!"
He turned the exact shade of firetruck red, grabbed the nearest cushion, and chucked it at me with the force of a medieval catapult.
"Pervert! Get out!"
"I haven't even done anything yet!" I protested, dodging the flying projectile like it was a live grenade.
"The way you act in itself is sexual harassment!" he yelled, throwing a second cushion that I barely managed to block.
He's quite an amusing boy, really—so genuinely reactive that every little thing he does is like watching a live comedy show, but with a side of heart. Cold on the outside, warm on the inside—a total contrast to his brother, who seemed to heat up just by glancing at any girl in a ten-foot radius.
"I'm not trying to harass you, you know… Wait, how old are you exactly anyway?" I asked, trying to sound casual, though my grin was probably a little too mischievous.
"I'm twenty, and I already go to college, just so you know," he said, tone deadpan but somehow carrying the weight of someone who had been dragged into way too many ridiculous situations.
"Thank goodness!" I said, letting out a dramatic sigh of relief. "I really thought I was harassing a minor!"
Xenon's glare was sharp enough to cut glass. "So you were really going to harass me?"
I smiled, slow and deliberate, the kind of smile that could either melt hearts or give chills—sometimes both. Then I leaned closer, closing the distance between us inch by inch. "What do you think? And since we're alone, why don't we—oof!"
He cut me off mid-sentence with a perfectly timed pillow to the stomach. And another one. And another. It was like a fluffy barrage designed to keep me firmly in my place.
"Wait, wait! Real talk!" I gasped between pillow dodges, holding my hands up defensively. "I meant it like… it'd be better to not go out regretting anything! That's what I meant!"
He finally paused, letting me catch my breath as he exhaled in what sounded like pure resignation. "I don't have anyone I like—not in that way," he said, voice softening just a fraction.
I flopped onto the sofa next to him, pillows scattered everywhere like the aftermath of a very domestic battlefield.
"Huh, really? What about that girl from yesterday?" I asked, tilting my head.
"She's just a friend," he said without hesitation.
"You don't like her?"
Normally, I wasn't the type to pry into someone else's love life. It felt invasive, unnecessary. But now? There were only four days left. Four days before everything went quiet. If he liked someone, even just a little, then shouldn't he at least let it be known?
"…Not in that way," he said when he noticed the look on my face, the one that said I am absolutely not convinced.
"Listen," I said gently, "I'm not trying to force you or anything, but… you know the world is ending, yeah?"
"Not that way. Really," he repeated, firmer this time.
"Hmmm." I nodded slowly, accepting it, even if part of me still felt uneasy.
Then he surprised me.
"I have a question," Xenon said suddenly, turning to look at me. His gaze was serious—nothing like his brother's playful or heated stares. This was different. He was really looking at me. "Did you like my brother that much? Still do?"
I didn't dodge it. "I sure did," I said honestly. "But now… it's a little bit different."
His eyes narrowed just slightly. "So you want to kill him."
"…That's right."
The words landed heavier than I expected.
Softly, I reached out and held Xenon's hands, feeling the warmth there, grounding. "See, it's all good if you're actually fine with it, Xenon," I said quietly. "I just think you'd be better off not regretting anything. It's not about doing anything or crossing some line."
I squeezed his hands lightly.
"It's about being honest with yourself. About not letting the end come and thinking I wish I'd said something… or done something differently."
He fell silent again, staring at the book he wasn't really reading. I inched closer, the sofa suddenly feeling way too small for both of us. Without warning, I poked his cheek.
"Are you mad?" I asked innocently. "Tell you what—just let me know if you've got any dream places. See if you can get your brother to book you a hotel with a nice night view or something."
"No need for any of that!" he snapped, cheeks faintly pink, voice sharp like a whip.
"The illusion of it is what's important," I said, grinning.
"I don't care anymore!"
"You're mad again," I teased, poking him lightly again. "What got you so riled up this time?"
'Must it always be the sex topic?' I thought with a sigh. Maybe it's better not to push those buttons right now. Right now, I just want to love him in a way that preserves his sincerity, not shatters it.
I tilted my head, considering. "Hey… what about kissing?" I asked softly, a mischievous spark in my eyes.
Before he could process what I said, I leaned in and pressed a quick, light dab of a kiss on his lips.
The reaction was immediate. His eyes shot wide open, and he froze mid-breath like someone had turned his world upside down. His entire body stiffened, and I almost laughed at how spectacularly overdramatic he was for such a tiny kiss.
"I—I—what—how—" he stammered, hands flailing just slightly, trying to regain composure.
"Did you ever have your first kiss? Or was this your first?" I asked, trying to sound casual while secretly grinning at the thought of flustering him again.
He immediately pushed me down onto the sofa, hands holding mine firmly. "That counts as sexual violence, you know!?" His face was bright red, a perfect mix of outrage and embarrassment.
"Then how should I go about it?" I asked, feigning innocence while secretly loving every second of his reaction.
"Get consent first, for one," he said, still clutching my hands like I was about to escape and kidnap the world's largest cake or something.
I bit my lip, thinking. I wasn't the type to go rough on someone so genuinely cute, yet all his reactions were so adorably real that it practically demanded teasing. Honestly, just saying "I'll kiss you" wouldn't be enough to get him to agree. Not with this boy.
"Okay, how about this," I said, leaning closer. "I'll keep it no longer than ten seconds. If you don't like how you're feeling, you can freely slap me in the face."
"Do you really think I can slap a girl—"
Before he could finish, I caught him off guard. I pushed him down, straddled him lightly, and pressed my lips to his.
For a few moments, he was frozen, stiff as a board. But then I felt a subtle shift, a soft responding movement from him.
And then—oh.
Oh no.
My eyes widened in surprise as his tongue gently slid inside my mouth, exploring with a confidence I didn't expect.
'Wait a second…' I thought, heart racing. 'I thought this was his first kiss? Why is he more experienced than me?!'
I froze for a heartbeat, shocked and a little flustered, but the way his hands held mine and the warmth radiating through him made it impossible to stop.