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The phone barely rings twice before Jihoon picks up.
His eyes are always glued to his phone, so naturally, he rarely misses calls. It’d be hard for anyone to miss a call in a time like this anyway, when people cling to their phones like lifelines, desperate for updates and contact with their loved ones.
If Hyunsuk were to open his curtains right now, he’d certainly become a witness to panic and havoc. He hasn’t looked outside in four days. Apparently, they can see it now from here. Hyunsuk doesn’t want to know.
Hyunsuk came to terms with the fact that the world is coming to an end about three days ago. Jihoon made peace with the knowledge almost a week ago. Funnily enough, the news that an colossal asteroid was directly on course to collide with the planet also came about almost a week ago.
Transport services had collapsed after the initial spread of the news because people had understandably abandoned their jobs to be with their loved ones. As broke uni students, neither Hyunsuk nor Jihoon possessed the necessary skills or fees to obtain a drivers licence, meaning, they were stranded and unable to see the ones they loved most.
Initially, Jihoon had cried. A lot. He also screamed. He screamed for hours and hours. He yelled at the sky because the world was being so unfair, because he was being robbed. Two hours later, he’d seemingly gotten over it, while Hyunsuk was only just beginning to come to the realisation that he’d never see his family again in the middle of a park, in the middle of the night, sitting on the cold grass next to his best friend.
“How are you?” Jihoon asks in lieu of a greeting.
What a loaded question, Hyunsuk thinks. Should he start with the most obvious of his concerns, that they’ll all be dead and gone in less than six hours; his little sister, his best friends, Jihoon. Or should he divulge in the thoughts of all of the unachievable dreams he’s entertaining; like the thought of buying an apartment with Jihoon after university like they’d planned, or travelling around the world with his best friends and how all of that is morbidly unattainable now.
There are a lot of complex answers to Jihoon’s simple question and none of them are good. Instead, Hyunsuk opts for a simple could be better.
Jihoon snorts like Hyunsuk knew he would. Hyunsuk finds himself laughing with him. “That’s the understatement of the year.”
“Are you home?” Hyunsuk suddenly asks to distract himself. He’s tempted to open the curtains, to see the tiny glint in the sky that threatens the existence of humanity. He forces himself away from the windows and walks down the dark corridor leading to his room, collapsing on his bed.
Jihoon stays in the door building next to his, so they’re pretty much always in each other’s company. Hyunsuk’s not quite sure why he’s asking, nor does he know what he’s hoping for.
“Yeah. Where else is there to go.”
Hyunsuk doesn’t bother responding and a lethargic silence settles over them. It’s almost a jarring silence; their phone calls are normally filled with laughter and constant chatter. Hyunsuk doesn’t want to think about how this will probably be their last.
Jihoon takes a deep, audible breath before he speaks. “I’m not ready to die, Hyunsuk.”
Hyunsuk feels his throat seize. It’s the first time they’ve openly talked about the impending doom upon them. Jihoon never brought the subject up again after his initial reaction and Hyunsuk never felt comfortable starting the depressing conversation. Strangely however, there’s almost no lament in Jihoon’s words. It’s a simple statement, and Hyunsuk resonates with it as any twenty year old would.
There’s so much of the world that they haven’t experienced as stupid university students. Hyunsuk’s never even been on a fucking plane.
Jihoon clearly has other things on his mind. “We’re gonna die virgins. I’m gonna die a virgin.”
Hyunsuk humours him and laughs, but quietly, he wonders if he really would have lost his virginity to Jihoon like he always thought, had they been given more time. The thoughts of the possibilities are intrusive. The atmosphere is too bleak to try and get going now. It triggers him to start thinking about all of the things they’ll miss again.
Suddenly, Hyunsuk’s mouth is moving on it’s own accord. “It’s weird and twisted and wrong, probably, but I always thought suicide was the best way to go out. That way I could die on my own terms, when I’ve decided I’m ready. Not like this.”
“I don’t think people who commit suicide are ready to die, as such. I guess there’s no other option to them.” Jihoon says, thoughtfully.
Hyunsuk hums.
“I know. I just think it seems way better than this.” He sighs, staring at the ceiling.
“Anything is better than this.” Jihoon laughs, but the sound is heavy.
Hyunsuk then thinks about his mom, his dad and his little brother. He’d last spoken to them two hours ago and he can still hear his mother’s sobs ringing in his head. He thinks about Junkyu, his roommate who’d disappeared six days ago to get to his parents. He hasn’t heard from him since he’d walked out the door in tears. Hyunsuk can only hope he’s managed to get there okay.
He thinks about the last remnants of society crumbling, a shadow of man-made legacy replicated in the towering skyscrapers. It’s crazy how none of it matters anymore.
“I love you, you know.” Jihoon says simply but out of nowhere and Hyunsuk’s heart ironically sinks. The more he dwells on it, the less sudden the confession seems. They’d had it coming.
Jihoon doesn’t elaborate but Hyunsuk knows exactly what he means. They’d always known, Hyunsuk guesses, they just never addressed the growing tension between them. Of course it took the end of world for them to finally stop beating around the bush, dancing around each other.
“I love you too.”
It ends there. There’s no point in going any further at this point in time so they just leave it there. It’s all over anyway. Jihoon must be experiencing the same thought process because he doesn’t say anything else either.
Then, there’s silence. Again.
You’d think in a situation where there’s so little time left, years of mounted suppressed words would come pouring out. Strangely, Hyunsuk can’t seem to find even one.
“Hey.” Jihoon calls into the dark.
Hyunsuk hums in response.
“Come over.”
He doesn’t even have to think about it, even if it means going outside, there’s nobody else he’d rather spend his last moments with.
“Okay.”