The world will end today.
It still feels strange to say it so plainly, like I'm talking about the weather or a grocery list item I forgot to buy. The sky looks the same. The house feels the same. Xenon's breathing beside me is steady and warm. Nothing about this morning screams finale.
One thing we've somehow been putting off until now is the question of where we should spend our last moments.
And that's why we've been talking about it nonstop since the other day—yesterday, last night, and again this morning. In his bed. Both of us bare, tangled together, the sheets a mess we never bothered to fix because… well, what for?
"Xenon," I asked, tracing lazy shapes on his chest, "where do you want to see the world's end at?"
He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, brows slightly furrowed like this was a trick question on an exam. "Kind of a textbook choice," he finally said, "but the beach would be nice."
"So, Brisia?" I suggested immediately.
He snapped his head toward me and glared. "No! Even Galdor has beaches, too, for crying out loud! Not like I think watching the sunset is romantic or anything!"
I laughed softly. He really was adorable when he got defensive over nothing.
'So… the world really is ending, huh.'
"Can't we just keep things the same as usual?" Xenon said quietly, his voice much softer than before.
And just like that, we did.
We spent the day almost exactly the way we'd spent the past week, as if repetition itself could hold the universe together.
I cooked for him, standing barefoot in the kitchen, humming a tune I barely remembered. He sat at the table, watching me with that look—half curious, half content. When I set the plate down, he dug in like it was his last meal. Which, technically, it was.
"This is good," he said through a mouthful. Then, after swallowing, "I'd like some cake, too."
I snorted. "Of course you would."
I checked the fridge, then the pantry. "Let's see if we have enough butter…"
We didn't. We were short on a few things, actually. The supermarket shelves had been stripped clean days ago—flour, sugar, butter, all gone. No one cared about cakes at the end of the world. Still, I made do with what we had.
The cake came out a little lopsided. A bit dry.
Definitely not my best work.
Xenon ate it anyway. Every last crumb.
"I swear," he said seriously, licking frosting off his thumb, "you make the best cakes in the world, Sera."
I felt something twist in my chest.
The end is right around the corner. Whatever we eat today, whatever we do today—it won't change anything. None of it matters in the grand scheme of things.
And yet… it does.
Up until now, I never really understood him. Why he kept going to school. Why he stuck to routines. Why he insisted on living normally even when everything was falling apart.
I couldn't see the point in studying. If the world was ending, shouldn't we splurge? Travel? Burn bridges? Set things on fire—literally or figuratively? I thought it'd be better to chase pleasure, or revenge, or anything loud enough to drown out the fear. Especially when the law didn't mean anything anymore.
But watching Xenon now, crumbs on his lips, shoulders relaxed, eyes bright over something as simple as cake… I think I finally get it.
Normal things anchor you. They remind you that you're human, right up until the end.
"Thanks," I said quietly, leaning down to kiss him on the lips.
He paused mid-chew, blinking like I'd short-circuited his brain, then grumbled, "You're gonna make me choke one of these days," before promptly taking another bite anyway.
"Complaining?" I asked, tilting my head with a playful grin.
He looked away, face flushing slightly. "No," he muttered.
I realized that all morning had been consumed with baking that cake, then watching him devour it, and not much else. The plate was empty now, but the air still held the sweet, buttery scent of it, thick and comforting. I breathed it in deeply, smiling at the little domestic bubble we'd created amidst the end of everything.
Deciding that we should do something a little more fitting for the last of our days, I suggested we watch the sunset together.
"We can see it from this window," he said casually, pointing to the west-facing one in the living room.
I followed his lead, standing behind him as we both gazed out. The view wasn't exactly breathtaking—the sky was muted, tinged with pinks and oranges, but the foreground was a chaotic tangle of utility poles and power lines. The distant cawing of crows filled the air, mingling with the faint smell of grilled fish drifting from a neighbor's balcony. Normal, everyday life pressing through the end of the world.
And somehow, it was perfect.
We kissed.
Slowly, deliberately, letting the moment stretch, as if holding on could somehow stop the world from turning. I'd never felt a sunset this beautiful, never lingered in a quiet like this with someone who made even the mundane feel extraordinary. His hands rested lightly on my waist, his lips soft against mine, and for a heartbeat, nothing else mattered.
Later, by his suggestion, we made steaks for dinner. Simple, messy, perfectly ordinary.
I clinked my fork against his plate lightly and raised my glass, a playful glint in my eyes. "Here's to our last meal."
He smirked, but the corners of his eyes softened. "Are you… still feeling alright?"
"Uh, what, now you're worried about me?" I said, raising a brow.
"…Just forget it," he muttered, looking away again like he'd revealed too much by accident.
We finished eating in a comfortable silence. After clearing the plates, I opened a bottle of wine. The cork popped louder than expected, echoing briefly through the house.
"I wonder," I said as I poured, "is it actually gonna end?"
He accepted his glass and stared into it, the surface trembling slightly from his grip. The meal had been filling, the wine warm and heavy in our veins.
Eventually, we both collapsed onto the sofa, limbs loose, shoulders touching. The TV sat dark across from us. It might've been showing chaos—cities panicking, people praying, the world unraveling—but neither of us reached for the remote.
"It's not like we know when exactly it'll happen," he said quietly.
"Hmm, but it's definitely today, right?" I replied, leaning closer. "No idea how they worked the science to predict that, but it's kind of amazing. Terrifying. But amazing."
I reached out and took his hands, threading my fingers through his like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Can you kiss me one last time?" I asked softly.
"…Why?" he said, though he didn't pull away.
"Us kissing at the moment the world ends," I said, smiling faintly, "don't you think that's romantic?"
He scoffed, but there was no bite to it. "Stop it. You're sounding so silly right now."
"Says the one who was insatiable and wild in bed—"
I didn't get to say the rest. He grabbed me by the collar and kissed me, sudden and firm, like he was afraid I'd disappear if he waited another second. His forehead rested against mine when he finally pulled back, breath uneven.
"It's not over yet," I pouted, tilting my head up at him.
He sighed, but there was warmth in it, and then he leaned in again.
We kissed once more.
And again.
There was no knowing when exactly it would end so we just kept going. As if kissing could stall time. As if holding each other close enough might keep the universe from pulling us apart.
In between each breath, between the brief moments where our lips separated just long enough to breathe, I whispered, "I love you."
My voice grew hoarse from saying it so much, but I didn't stop. I didn't want him to forget. I didn't want the last thing he remembered to be silence.
Our lips began to ache, swollen and sore, our breathing uneven and desperate. My heart hammered against my ribs, not from fear, but from how desperately alive I felt in that moment.
'Forever and ever,' I thought—knowing full well forever didn't exist anymore.
"…I love you," he finally said, his voice quiet, almost fragile.
That was when my vision blurred. The room felt warm, heavy, distant, like I was sinking into a deep, gentle sleep. I didn't even realize I was losing consciousness. There was no pain. No fear. Just his warmth, his scent, his arms around me.
I never knew when the very last moment came.
Maybe it happened while we were kissing.Maybe it happened while I was smiling.Maybe it happened while I was already gone.
I don't know.
Such was how the world ended.