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27TH JUNE, 6:12PM. 11 HOURS AND 5 MINUTES BEFORE THE END.
Your sneakers squeak on the hot pavement and your forehead is slowly getting glossy with the sweat that’s starting to appear in small droplets all over your heated face. You don’t have much time now, you realise, so you need to hurry. It’s an easy task, really– you just have to get in, which shouldn’t be as hard in times like these, get back what’s yours and run back home to prepare for the end.
You never thought that the world would end like this. Scratch that, no. You never thought the world would end at all. Something about this statement still feels like a sick joke, like a scene from those stupid sci-fi movies your friend’s brother used to watch when you came over for a sleepover. It’s hard to believe you’re going to die just because some scientists didn’t have more functioning brain cells to know that they shouldn’t mess with forces they know are much stronger than humans are. And smarter, so it seems.
You’re not stupid. You’re quite a smart cookie, really. What a shame you won’t get any opportunity to showcase your functioning brain more in your short life. When the government announced that they’ve been communicating with aliens for the past few years, observing their planet and trying to learn how they live and get on with other spieces, you were surprised, but it didn’t take you long to accept that information. What was harder, though, was accepting the information that you were only a few hours away from the end of the world.
Something went wrong and so instead of trying to save the planet by making the big atomic missile that’s nearing your atmosphere because of miscommunication with the beings living in outer space disappear, the government is telling the world to pay for atomic bunkers to hide survive, and that the less fortunate have to be prepared for the worst of the worst.
You could be mad about it for long, but you choose not to. They let you know too late, but you guess you should have been more aware of the fact that the government is hiding everything from the population long ago. People would go crazy if they knew aliens existed sooner– maybe it’s good there’s only a few hours away from the end of the world.
The end of the world, so it seems, only for the unlucky ones.
The ones without expensive cars and stacks of money in their family safes. The ones without big businesses and wealthy connections, the ones without big savings and golden teeth decorating their mouths. It’s the end of the world for the middle class, it’s the end of the world for the poor ones. Only the richest ones will survive, because only the richest ones can afford to pay for the atomic bunker.
The world’s a twisted place. Capitalism wins even in the darkest times, so it seems.
You could be mad about it for long, but you choose not to. You have more important things to do right now.
An enormous neon sign with all the letters still illuminated in color, much opposing to the apocalyptic feeling the streets are having right now, appears in your point of vision as you stop in front of the store and read it over again. Na’s pawnshop secrets. You snicker, rolling your eyes in annoyance. This is the pawnshop that once took everything treasured you had– the store you had to run to with all your precious things just so your family wouldn’t have to leave their small apartment. This is the pawnshop from the biggest pawnshop chain in the country– many smaller stores appearing all over the coast, all begging for possessed things they could take from poor people that didn’t have a better way to earn money. You despise the big neon sign and the navy blue interior, because it took you everything you ever had.
But now, you’re getting it back. If there’s only 11 hours before you die and the world is wiped out of all people with no money, you’re getting back what’s yours and no one can stop you, because 1) there’s no one around to do so, and 2) nobody even cares anyway. Everything’s worthless now.
You pick up a big rock from the sidewalk into your hands, silently glancing on it and soothing over the smooth surface. It’s a little shiny under the direct sunlight, making you lose your track of thought for a second before a loud shriek from somewhere far wakes you up into your reality and you finally decide– you throw the stone against the big glass window and watch it smash, not even a sound of alarm naering your ears, since the owner’s somewhere far in his fancy atomic bunker and you think the power went out a little while ago.
A snicker leaves your mouth as you carefully step inside through the hole you managed to create in the surface. You make sure your rusty old sneakers don’t meet any sharp pieces and run over to the glass cabinets in the far corner of the room, glancing over at the place you’ve been admiring for the last few weeks now, immediately finding what you’re looking for.
Sparks of golden and black glimmer under the sunlight, your eyes growing twice their size when you recognise the object. There it is– there’s your most loved treasure, the prettiest piece of jewelry you’ve ever owned. The necklace is glittering in your eyes, the gold a little rusty now after all those years, yet the prize tag still says it’s just as worthy as if it was when it was new. The golden roses and small petals catch your eye as if you’ve just seen them for the first time– you’re glad you finally see it from so up close again.
You crack your knuckles and decide to get to work. The cabinet is locked and there’s no way you could get inside of it even if you tried your hardest. You’ve already tried how it is to do crimes and break windows, so there’s no fear or adrenaline left in your body when you walk over to the stone left on the white tiled ground under the window, reaching over to smash another glassed cabinet to take back the pretty golden necklace sitting in the vitrine.
You pull your arm a little back, preparing for the sound of the glass smashing from the force of the stone, when a sound completely different to the one you’re expecting surprises you from somewhere behind you, panic in their voice.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, making you jolt in your movements. Your sneaker-covered feet slowly turn on their heel by themselves and you’re met with a tall male with black hair staring you up and down, a hawaiian shirt hugging his body. The aquamarine color makes his deep eyes stand out and his arms are stretched out in front of his body in a defensive gesture, looking like he’s fearing your next step.
“Stealing.” you shrug. You don’t feel so helpless with a huge ass stone in your hand, it seems. The fear of death escaped you the moment you heard the news this morning and even a man your age wearing a hawaiian shirt in the middle of nowhere can’t scare you anymore. You lost all your common sense.
“Stealing.” he repeats, confusion written all over his face. “At a… time like this,” he tilts his head like a puppy that has just been spoken to by a human, lost in the translation.
“Yes.” you nod. “Why do you care?”
He blankly stares at you, the question startling him. He’s never been spoken to in this way before. All the people he’s met in his short life have been nothing but nice to him, looking at him in the brightest light possible. He thinks it’s the impact of his parents. Not that he likes it, he really, truly, doesn’t even care, but now, when he really thinks about it, he’s been one of the lucky people in this world to only receive such treatment this late in his life.
“I- I..” he stutters, mentally slapping himself for looking so out of place and insecure, “my parents own this place. You can’t steal from here.” he answers, nodding.
He’s given a blank stare from you, examining one, even, as your eyes move down from his face to the aquamarine hawaiian shirt enveloping his built figure, finally landing on the white designer flip flops on his feet. You look expressionless for a moment, as if you’re contemplating his argument, when you just snort at him and roll your eyes in amusement.
“Who even cares anymore?” you ask, waiting a second for his reply. When you’re given none, you shrug again, sighing. “Right, no one. I guessed so. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll just continue what I started and then you can go on with your life.” you ironically smile at him and turn on your heel, once again reaching to shatter the glass vitrine, when quick steps approach you from the back and your hand is pulled away with bigger force.
The action somehow makes you turn around in your place, shocked eyes gazing at the unknown boy now standing way too close to your body. “You can’t do that,” he repeats.
Your breaths mix, your eyes squinting in anger as you bite down on your lip, trying to break out of his hold. His hold on your wrist is strong, though, stronger than you’d expected from the biceps outlined under the hawaiian shirt he’s wearing, which only makes you more angry, because who is he to make your plan fail when you’re so close to the only thing you’re not willing to die without?
“Fucking let go! Why does it even matter so much when I’ll die in a few hours? Can’t you just let me fucking get that stupid necklace and go?!” you yell out, eyes glossy with frustration and the nerves built up in your body, making the boy in front of you visibly soften. He still doesn’t let go of you, though, opting to only hold you tighter when you swish your hand around, helplessly trying to make him let go.
“Stop! I won’t let you break my parent’s place just because you’re desperate!” he yells, mouth forming a pout you don’t expect from an angry man, making you snicker.
“As if anyone’s going to visit your stupid pawn shop after all the middle class is dead.” you spit in spite, watching his eyes going motionless, staring blankly somewhere deep inside of your soul.
A deep sigh escapes his lips as he turns you around, dragging you to the far corner of the store, licking his lips in nerves. There’s a sense of dedication and hopeless desperation written in his features as he nods and looks you in the eyes again, wanting your all attention.
“Look. I’ll unlock the vitrine and give you your necklace back, but you have to promise me one thing.” he proposes. Your insides clench in a mix of emotions– you’re finally close to having the treasured piece of gold again, yet, there’s a hint of mischief behind his words and you know that even though you came to steal, you’ll have to pay for it, just like any other customer would.
“What is it?” you ask, irritated.
His bunny-like teeth chew on his bottom lip as his eyes shift down to his feet, the black fringe covering his eyes just a little. “You have to help me.”
“Help you?” you storm out, sparks flying from your angry gaze. Your hands clutch in fists. There’s no way you’re going to help a rich boy a few hours before your life ends. You’ve been living in hell and despair just because of people like him and now you have to help him? There’s no way you’re going on with that plan.
“Yes. Either you help me and you can get your necklace, or you don’t and you’re never seeing it again,” he says, face serious. There’s a deeper meaning behind his words and you know that if you promise your help now, you won’t be getting out of this so soon. Danger fills your veins. They say gut feelings are guardian angels and now, you don’t even think of doubting the saying as your mind screams at you to not take his promise, to not let him make you do anything you’re going to regret later. And you listen, because, well, duh. You’re not stupid.
“I’m not helping you.” you scoff, rolling your eyes.
“No necklace, then,” he shrugs nonchalantly, starting to let go of your hands. He changes his mind quickly when your face resembles an angry bull, shielding you away from the glass vitrine with his whole body, eyes coldly staring into yours.
“What the fuck do you want?” you cry out. Desperation soon comes in the place of danger in your insides. There’s only 11 hours left before your death and you already feel like the end is closer than it seems with his body close to yours, the aquamarine screaming and laughing at you when his black fringe coves the fakeness in his eyes.
“I want you to drive me to Taewe. My family’s there, waiting in a bunker. I need to get there soon or else I’ll die,” he explains hurriedly. It seems like desperation hits the both of you at similar times, his eyes big staring into your soul as a tiny wrinkle settles in between his brows in a frown.
You chuckle in spite. “Little rich boy can’t drive?” you ask, rolling your eyes. You’re slowly losing your patience with him.
“Never needed to,” he shrugs, the cocky smirk on his face getting on your nerves even more. Sometimes the small monster inside of you wishes to wipe it off, but you choose not to as you only shake your head in disbelief. Of course the son of the richest family around never had to drive a car. He had his own drivers, of course.
“Nobody even cares anymore, dude. Just fucking steal a car and drive your ass there.” you say through your teeth and try to go around him in quick steps, but his body shields your way every time.
“I don’t want to die on my way there,” he shrugs, “take it or leave it. You can either drive me to Taewe and get your shiny necklace or you can decline my offer and leave with nothing.” he stares at you. Something inside of him is desperate for your help, needing the presence of another human on his way, the upper forces telling him he’s already one step closer to making you go with him with the offer he’s proposed to you. No one’s ever declined the man he is, no one’s ever had the audacity.
“Fuck off, Na. Just- just fuck off,” you huff, hair falling into your face. Frustration and anger mirror on your features when he teases you one last time, taking you over the edge.
“Think about it. You can either leave with everything, or die with nothing.”
You know that you won’t ever get to the necklace with the tall man in front of you shielding your way with force. You know you won’t ever get to the only thing that matters to you at this point, you know you won’t ever succeed if you don’t choose to sacrifice something first. You’ve already done it millions of times before when you went to the famous pawn shop, sacrificing your dignity and your pieces of joy by giving up on the only things that ever resembled that your family once had money. And so you do it again, like a fool.
You know you won’t ever leave this earth without your grandma’s necklace.
27TH JUNE, 7:17PM. 9 HOURS AND 58 MINUTES BEFORE THE END.
Rich people don’t know what real life is. You learned that when you first saw a rich couple on the street wearing all white clothing mourning over the loss of a brand new t-shirt that was stained with strawberry ice cream, snobbily muttering how they have to throw it out now instead of thinking rationally and just throwing it into the wash.
You learned the fact more and more times in your life when you were made fun of in high school for not owning a bread cutter at home, because apparently, rich people don’t use knives anymore. When you were made fun of wearing rusty sneakers on your field trip even though your classmate almost cried at the end of it because his white new yeezys got all dirty from mud. You were the smart one here, not them.
And you learned this fact again now, with the boy you learned is named Jaemin, by your side as you break into a lonely car parked at the side of the street– easily breaking the window and opening the door from the inside with your outstretched hand, stepping inside and turning the engine on just by connecting a few wires together, sighing in annoyance as the wide eyed boy sat next to you in awe.
Rich people don’t know what real life is. They think this is all just the movies.
“How did you know how to do that?” he gasps, eyeing you up and down, making you seem like the coolest creature in the world. He doesn’t know that your father made you fix the old cars with him when you were little. He used to do it a lot when you were growing up– the job was easy for him and it made him a decent amount of money. Clients were still coming, since cars break all the time, but when your father’s eyesight got worse, he had to give up on his little part time job.
“It’s common knowledge, pretty much…” you mutter. You’re not in the mood to talk about your growing up now and you’re not in the mood to talk about it with Na Jaemin either. He doesn’t know what real childhood feels like. He’s spent it all in golf yards.
“Hmm,” he hums, “it seems like breaking into my parents’ store wasn’t the first illegal thing you’ve done.” he snickers.
Annoyance fills your veins, making a frustrated huff leave your parted lips. You send him a glare that makes goosebumps appear all over his back, ironically smiling at him. “Yes, I’m taking small steps. If you don’t stop talking, the next illegal thing I’ll do is a murder.”
You don’t scare him. But still, your bold statement makes him shut up for a little while.
The ride is silent. You fiddle with the radio and hear a static sound followed by a female voice announcing the news you’ve heard at least 30 times since this morning, making you turn it off in annoyance. You follow Jaemin’s directions and end up on a long, long road that seems to be in the middle of a desert– half dead trees and sand enclosing the scenery in a scary, post-apocalyptic look. The words that had come out of the female announcer’s mouth resonate in your head, staying there even if you try your hardest not to think about them, even if you try your hardest to filter them out and make them shut up.
“The government announces that there’s a hypersonic missile reaching the planet earth coming from the planet E10 in the other solar system. The earth’s National Aeronautics and Space Administration had been talking with the outer creatures for years now, trying to communicate in a peaceful manner. It seems like we unknowingly angered the alien species, making them declare a war on us using missiles stronger than we could ever imagine. Since there’s no time for us to prepare for the attack of the missiles, we encourage the population to hide in atomic bunkers hidden all around the country that will hopefully prevent the fortunate ones from the attack. Thank you for listening and make sure to stay safe.”
You can’t listen to the words anymore. It all seems like a sick joke. The fortunate ones, they call them. The survivors. They’re used to buying everything in their life– buying their friends, family, success. Now, they’re buying their own life. Ironic, isn’t it?
Once you can’t listen to the announcement repeating in your head over and over again, you can’t help but try to distract yourself by something different.
“How far is the bunker, by the way?” you ask. A quick glance is paid Na Jaemin’s way to see him staring straight in front of him at the moving road, teeth bared into his lower lip.
“Not that far. Maybe 2 hours away by car?” he says, sounding unsure. You don’t even know if he knows where he’s going. The poor boy never had to give directions to anyone ever in his life and you find it kind of amusing to see him so concentrated on the road. That, or maybe he fears his own death with the speed you’re driving. You think you can get a little reckless, though. There’s no one else on the road and you’re going to die soon anyway. “Why are you asking?”
You dwell on his question for a while before you decide to answer in honesty. “Well, I wanted to make sure that I can get home and die with my family once the missile falls, you know?” you say, glancing at him.
His composure shifts, his whole figure shrieking in the passenger seat. The deep brown orbs fall in life, the scared sparkle making him seem a little disappointed– although this is surely not the emotion he’s feeling at the moment and you both know that. You find his pity a little laughable. It’s not like he has to worry about things like this anyway.
“I’m-”
“Why didn’t you go with your family, by the way?” you ask, cutting off his words. You’re glad you took the sentence out of his mouth swiftly, not knowing how you’d react if he said he’s sorry. It’s not his fault. He shouldn’t be sorry– hell, he’s not even sorry. It’s just empty words and they won’t change anything.
He hums for a bit, searching the car for anything that he could focus on to ground himself. You find the gesture a little worrying, his eyes shaking as he replies to you with a tone of voice similar to a child telling their mother they didn’t break their favorite vase. Surprise– they did. Why does Na Jaemin sound like a liar to you, then?
“I was doing something in the store when they were leaving. I didn’t want them to be late, so I just told them our driver can drive me there once I’m done, but he bailed on me and left by himself, so I had no way of getting there alone.”
You take a quick glance at him, tearing your eyes off the steering wheel. Something seems off and you know it– you can’t go around and lie to a person that grew up around people trying to take all the little money they had by tripping them into traps by lying. “That sounds weird. Are you sure you’re telling the truth?” you ask.
“Why wouldn’t I be? Of course I am!” he acts offended, even pouts a little again. If you didn’t know better and you were one of the teenage girls that could afford cars for their sweet sixteen in your high school, you’d believe him. You drove a tractor sooner than a car though. People can’t just say things to you and expect you to not know they’re lying. How do these two things align in the real world? You have no idea. Something is telling you that they do, though.
“If you don’t tell me the truth, I’ll just throw you out of the car and drive off, Na Jaemin, I’m telling you-” you start, when suddenly, there’s a loud noise coming out of the engine, making you steer the wheel in the wrong direction in surprise. You think you’re nearing your death when you see a tree in your vision, but you manage to turn the wheel just enough to miss the tall gift of nature before the engine completely stops and your car moves on its own with no power, the comfortable humming of the car nowhere to be found as the wheels finally stop turning and you stop in the middle of nowhere, car buried in sand.
You take a few deep breaths in, trying to calm down your racing heart. You almost hit a tree and fractured the whole car, you almost managed to make the two of you injured or dead way too soon for your own liking on this hot day.
Shaky fingers reach to the wires under the steering wheel, trying to make the car turn on again, but it always just lets out a pathetic cough. A quick glance at the tachometers tells you that there’s not even use in trying– the car’s out of fuel and there’s nothing you can do to make it move again.
“Shit.” you curse under your breath, slamming your forehead against the steering wheel.
“Are you okay?” you hear a low voice coated in concern calls from beside you, making you snap back into reality.
You sit straight against the car seat, huffing in anger. Nothing seems to go right and you want to tear something apart, you want to kick something, you want to scream– you’re frustrated and the world feels like it’s ending, because, well, simply said, it is.
“Fuck!” you scream, fiery eyes burning your passenger sitting calmly at the leather seats. “I am losing my mind. I’m not okay, I want to fucking yell-” you grunt, unbuckling your seatbelt, opening the door and quickly escaping into the heated air of the summer day, fists clenched in anger. A fierce kick is delivered to the side of the car, making your foot hurt as you scowl in pain, jumping back and quickly sitting down into the sand, clenching your foot in your hands.
A figure dressed in an aquamarine hawaiian shirt takes a seat next to you in the heated yellow, a dry scoff reaching your ears. “Are you stupid? Why did you do that?”
“Because I’m fucking frustrated. That’s why.” you snap back.
“You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Like you care.” you roll your eyes. “Oh, right, you do care, because if I hurt myself, you won’t have any servant that could drive you to your fancy ass bunker so you could survive the end of the fucking world, am I right? Well, surprise surprise rich boy, I am no use now. The car doesn’t have any gas and we are in the middle of fucking NOWHERE-” you rise your voice, going off about everything and anything that comes into your mind that’s eating you up from the inside, clenching your fists until your knuckles turn white, when a calm voice settles into your ears and makes you shut up.
“Does it hurt?” Jaemin asks, gently taking your foot into his hands and feeling around your toes and the heel through your torn sneakers now full of sand, eyebrows furrowed in concern.
“I-I-” you stutter, huffing and brushing your hair back out of your face, “no. I was just angry, that’s all.”
“You sure?” his eyes look into yours, a question mirroring them as his eyebrows raise a little.
“Yes, I’m sure.” you roll your eyes. Another grunt leaves your mouth as you lay back into the sand, throwing your hands into your hair, closing your eyes a little to shield your irises from the direct sunlight. You just need a little break, a break from the reality, a break from your life–
but you can’t take a break. There’s no time to lose.
The time is ticking.
“What now, rich boy?” you crack your eye open, seeing him towering over you and shielding you from the sun in his shadow, the face he’s wearing obviously telling you he’s lost in thought, when a defeated expression takes over and he answers.
“We walk.”
27TH JUNE, 9:11PM. 8 HOURS AND 6 MINUTES BEFORE THE END.
Stars shine above your heads, your skin shrivelling up with goosebumps as you walk across the seemingly never ending desert, your beaten-up sneakers squeaking with sweat as you stomp on the still warm road. Na Jaemin is exactly one step next from you to the left, arms swinging subtly next to his body, the aquamarine hawaiian shirt looking quite funny in the moonlight, when the sun aggressively shining on his tanned skin doesn’t make him glisten and beam like models when they take instagram photos on golden hour. You snicker a little at the irony of everything– how the two of you even ended up at this point, one of you fighting for his life and the other one fighting with the fact that in a few hours, it’s going to end.
It’s only 8 hours until the end happens. You know it, because the scientists calculated it to an exact minute, and prepared the population for the complete end. Funnily enough, they’re not even trying to do anything. You started to think of the whole situation as a pathetic conspiracy theory– is this a stupid survival game? Is this just an experiment to see who is the strongest and who can battle the rich into the atomic bunkers? Or is this just a way to get rid of the bottom social layer– the poor, hell, even the middle class?
You guess you’ll never truly know. The government hid their communication with the aliens for way too long for you to even trust another word that’s ever going to come out of either of their mouths. They all do the same, after all, only the names change every time– you can join their group if you’re into money. That’s all it takes. Wealth.
You snicker out loud at the absurdity of it all. The companion by your side furrows his brows at you and beckons you to explain.
“What’s so funny?”
The chilly breeze starts to soften your skin as you look over at him and shake your head in an exclamation of disbelief, a widely known expression only the frustrated tend to act on. “This. The whole thing.” you shrug.
“This?”
“This,” you nod, laughing, “the fact that aliens even exist and we didn’t know about it until now. The fact that they’re suddenly going to kill us just because a motherfucker there somewhere said something wrong. The fact that the rich can survive, because that’s how it always goes– it’s funny. It’s funny how I’m walking here by your side, even though I could have just turned on my heel and gone to die soundly with my family, it’s funny how you claim that you sent your family there without you, even though that’s obviously a blunt lie…” you continue, counting on your fingers, your voice rising with each coming reason.
He remains silent. The air grows thicker around you, even though the absence of the sun high up on the horizon makes it fresher than in the afternoon, your steps being the only sounds heard in the wide space. You feel like you’re pointlessly walking, the area around you not even changing a bit– it’s like you’re walking on a treadmill, still standing at the same place. The only thing making you believe that you are, indeed, walking further into the world is the fact that your broken car is nowhere to be seen, left far away behind the horizon.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters, a sudden pout caressing his features. Uncertainty of what he’s even apologizing for splatters into your veins as you look up to him again, awaiting the response that’s not going to arrive.
Maybe he’s apologizing for being rich and lucky. Your dialogue must have made him feel bad, but at the end of the day, it’s not really his fault. You can’t hate the rich for being rich. You hate the rich because of internalized jealousy, that’s all it is. Maybe he’s apologizing for making you do this. For making you walk with him to a completely strange town only just so he could survive the apocalypse that’s about to happen. The truth is, though, you can’t even hate him for that. He did what he needed to do. You both need something that the other one has and even though you couldn’t care less if the rich boy from the Na family survives or not, at least you can feel good about yourself and die as a savior, in a way.
“It’s okay, rich boy,” you roll your eyes, “it’s not like it’s your fault anyway.”
A muffled hum leaves his mouth, his snow white flip flops hitting the concrete. He finds a small stone to kick right in front of him, moving it across the empty road like a footballer on the grassy field, the corners of his mouth rising when the stone reaches your side of the road and you kick it subtly his way, playing an innocent game of footsie just a few hours before you die.
“You know, my life isn’t much. I’m not wealthy, hell, I’m not even in the middle class. I don’t have many friends because everyone laughs at my old clothes, but after all, it still sucks to know that I haven’t experienced so many things. I’m too young to die,” you get out into the thin air, fingers playing with each other as you look at Jaemin on your left.
“What haven’t you experienced?” he asks.
Heat rises into your cheeks when you realise the extent of your hidden desires, the fact that you were going to talk about your empty love life with the boy you met just a few hours ago fully hitting you as you chew on your bottom lip. It may be embarrassing, but you guess you have nothing to lose now, right? You only live once, as you used to say before, and now, the full weight of those words is falling on top of your shoulders when you just decide to fuck it and confess to the boy.
“My first kiss, I guess… “ you shrug, “or first anything, for that matter.”
“You mean first sex?” he asks, teasing you.
Shame fills your insides as you look at him with offended orbs. “I meant a first relationship, but whatever floats your boat, you pervert.” you roll your eyes and hear him giggle next to you, his laughs making you feel carefree just for a second, the teasing making you forget the purpose of your walk.
“Me neither, though.” he says after he finishes talking, his eyes long focused on the small stone at the top of his heel, kicking it far away so you have more time to talk before you have to focus on the kick again.
“Oh?” you ask. Surprise hits your brain at the confession. You thought your missed-out firsts were the impact of the fact that you weren’t exactly pretty, popular, or didn’t even have enough money to be considered a girl that someone would like. Looking at Na Jaemin, who admittedly, has it all, and knowing he is in the same exact shoes as you, makes you a little shaken-up to begin with. “Why?”
“I guess I didn’t find anyone I’d feel connected to,” he mumbles, shrugging. “I don’t care, though.”
A snicker leaves your mouth. “Right, ‘cause you can kiss all the rich girls that survive the missile after you get out of your fancy little bunker.” you tease.
You look over to him and see him rolling his eyes at you, a huff leaving his parted lips. “That’s not what I meant and you know that,” he replies. “I meant that… I don’t feel like I missed out on something. It’s better to find the right one than to do it with just whoever, isn’t it?”
Poking the side of your cheek with your tongue, a hum leaves your mouth. You guess he’s right. You aren’t missing out on anything. You just didn’t find the one. And that’s okay, it’s better than living with a lie. “Yeah.”
A moment of silence ends fast as he brings up another crucial question.
“Do you have anything else in mind that you didn’t manage to experience and always wanted to?”
You dwell on the question for a second before you nod enthusiastically, your legs growing numb with the long walk as the outline of tall buildings appear somewhere in the distance, feeling like the town is at the reach of your fingertips. You see the tall constructions and swirls as your eyes light up with excitement.
“I always wanted to go into an aquapark.”
The boy looks at you with mischief in his eyes. He doesn’t even have to say it.
“Let’s go, then.”
27TH JUNE, 10:41PM. 6 HOURS AND 36 MINUTES BEFORE THE END.
Na Jaemin swears he’d never seen anyone with such a pure expression on their face before– eyes crinkled up into moon crescents, the corners of their mouth tugged into a wide grin, stars lingering in their orbs as they look around their surroundings. Na Jaemin swears he’d never seen anyone so excited before to be in an aquapark. He’s been to places like this many times before. Either with his parents that forgot that he was even there for a minute, letting him play around in the small pools by himself, or with his friends from high school that, somewhere along the way, forgot what friendship is and made him buy everything, because quoting, ‘he’s got the money to do so’. It sucked to never be able to enjoy the experience just as much as you were enjoying it right now, dancing around the empty and dark aquapark, stripping out of your clothes so you’re left only in your underwear, running to the nearest pool.
Somehow, he’s glad you’re the first one he’s experiencing this with. Not the aquapark in general, no, but the feeling of doing something he shouldn’t be doing, the feeling of enjoying your life to the fullest without anyone’s expectations falling onto his shoulders.
He watches you with lively eyes. Cold water splashes onto his skin as you jump right in, not even giving your body a second to get used to the freezing liquid filling up the pool, diving right in instead and laughing out loud like a happy child. He doesn’t realise it, but a wide grin spreads across his face, a wide grin that makes you confused, but happy at the same time, because god, this was the first time you’ve seen the strange boy smile and oh how you like that view. The mystery and weirdness hiding in his aura is all gone now, when the smile on his cheeks beams brighter than the burning sun now long gone behind the horizont.
“Come in!” you call at him, turning around in the water, acting like an aquabella on her first show. Hands fly up next to your head, twirling around like a ballerina. “The water’s amazing! And you have to get used to the cold before we go to the toboganes dude, come here!”
Your cheering is rewarded with a scoff, a shrug of his shoulders making you go crazy. “Oh don’t just stand there! You’re ruining all the fun.” you pout, swimming closer to the edge of the swimming pool. You don’t shudder, no goosebumps appear on your body like Jaemin’s expected when your body comes in contact with the cold water, making him curious of the reason behind that. Na Jaemin doesn’t know that you’ve been bathing in the freezing water with your grandma ever since you were young. The wrinkled woman took care of her health well. Was it all for anything, though?
“I’m not getting in. We’re here for you, not me.” he says, kicking off his shoes and sitting at the edge of the pool. The water is freezing and a tight hiss leaves his mouth at the contact, making you chuckle at him, a teasing shake of your head making his attention perk up as you scoot even closer to where he’s sitting.
“Na Jaemin, you should have known better,” you dramatically sigh, your hands motioning into a grabby motion as you reach out to him, his reflexes not kicking yet.
“I should have known wha-”
Your hands swiftly take hold of his legs swinging back and forth in the water, using all the strength you’ve built up in your muscles over the years to drag him into the pool, laughing in the process as the male doesn’t have the chance to brace himself and keep his head above the water. His arms wave around as he meets the cold surface, your hands on his shoulders drowning him in the process when you finally let him get up, laughing at his expression– nose scrunched up and eyes shut, coughs echoing through his body as he tries to catch his breath.
You try hard to battle your laughter, but you fail. Strong arms move to your waist to steady his own figure, your hands subconsciously travelling up to his shoulders.
When his eyes open and stare into yours, you’re overwhelmed in a feeling you’d never felt before, in a situation you never had to handle in your whole, short life. It’s strange and the word feels funny on your tongue, so you don’t even try to put a name on it. A muffled whisper leaves your mouth, knowing damn well it will reach his ears with the proximity your bodies are in, a shy smile sitting on your lips.
“Sorry about that.”
Jaemin’s hands slowly leave your body. He notices the goosebumps rising on your skin.
Strange, he thinks.
28TH JUNE, 0:31 AM. 4 HOURS AND 46 MINUTES BEFORE THE END.
The grass under your bodies feels soft as you lay behind the closed aquapark, fully clothed and dry now. The stars above your heads are more visible than ever now, since the light and the smog that was blocking them is all gone now. You can’t really know what will happen when an apocalypse takes place. Your brain didn’t predict that most people will leave the town and travel to meet with their loved ones for the last time. You couldn’t have predicted that the big cities that were once so full of people would be feeling like ghost towns, little to no people dragging their feet slangily around the empty streets. It’s all strange and unpredictable, you figure. You don’t mind the silence at all, though.
Na Jaemin lays next to you with his hands plopped up under his head. You two decided to take a break for a while, since the town he’s supposed to be in is only about one hour away. There’s no rush, you two can relax and find the strength so you can walk to the next town. You figured you could take a car and get there faster, since you were in the city again and there were plenty parked on the soulless streets, but it seems like Jaemin no longer trusts you behind the wheel and so you have to walk.
Time is ticking. You know that you’ll probably not get home by the time the world is hit with the missile. Something about the fact that you refused to say goodbye to your mother before you left to the pawn shop feels bitter in your stomach. ‘Say goodbye in case something bad happens along the way and we don’t meet each other again before the end’, she said. You waved her off with annoyance, telling her you’ll stay safe and meet them all in a few minutes.
Is your mother worried now? You couldn’t even call back, because your phone was broken. You figured you wouldn’t even have the strength to do so.
It was better to end without a goodbye.
“Why do you really need that necklace so much, by the way?” he suddenly asks, breaking the silence.
No response leaves your mouth. Words are stuck somewhere inside of your throat, the explanation coated with a feeling of pain and loneliness. Regret again washes over you when you realise you had to give up something so important for you, but shame kicks back again when your brain comprehends the fact that you had to give it up because your family had no money. Did you not work hard enough? Why couldn’t you live like Jaemin’s family?
“You don’t have to answer, it’s just… you literally went through half the country because of it. So it must be really important to you, isn’t it?”
You shake your head in disapproval. A heavy sigh leaves your mouth, but nonetheless, you decide to explain. There’s nothing to lose now, a few hours before the end, a few hours before everything stops mattering.
“The necklace… It was my grandmother’s. She gave it to me when I was very young and I managed to treasure it and keep it safe for a lot of years. She gave it to me when grandpa died,” you note, licking your lips momentarily. Your throat feels dry as you nervously continue. “She said it was the prettiest gift he’s ever given her. It was sort of like a promise ring, I think? He gave it to her one day as a promise to marry her, when they’re both older and ready for it. And so when they finally got married, she took off the necklace.” you explain, taking a short glance at him.
A pair of doe eyes scan your face with fondness. Na Jaemin doesn’t know what it’s like when jewelry holds significance. All he knows is elegance and the purpose of looking good, all he knows is bragging with designer brands. No one’s ever given him such an important gift.
“And when my grandpa died and my grandma got incredibly upset, she gave the necklace to me, because she wanted the proof of their love to be here forever,” you mumble, “almost like she knew that her end was near…”
“I’m sorry?”
“My grandma died a couple of years ago. I promised to keep that necklace safe.” you say, looking sincerely into his eyes. The stars reflecting in them make him look wonderful, too magical to ever need shiny rings and diamonds to look expensive. He just looked beautiful in the moonlight, even a stranger like you could see that.
He doesn’t say anything for a long time. It seems like he’s looking for the right things to say, but finds none. He doesn’t want to talk to you in empty words and promises, he doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s pitying you, because he feels like that’s what you hate the most. So he just nods at you and sadly smiles, hoping to get his point across. He hears you and he understands. That’s all that matters.
“I didn’t want to die with the knowledge that I couldn’t keep my promise.” you shrug, meeting the sky with your eyes. The galaxy hues swirl in your irises when you admire the beauty of it all– the feeling of nostalgia somehow meeting your brain, even though you’ve never lived a moment like this, confessing your biggest secret to a stranger before, spilling out your heart to someone and have them listen. It’s a nice feeling, but it tastes bitter.
“They must have loved each other so much,” Jaemin notes.
You smile at his comment, nodding. “They did,” you muse, “they really did. It must be great to be in love. To feel love. It must be so great to feel the butterflies in your stomach and to feel like you’ll even go to the end of the world with that person, promising to be in love with them forever… It must be nice. I wish I could feel it too, some time.”
Shuffling of the grass meets your ears as your companion sifts in his position, getting his hands out from under his head and relaxing them next to his body. His skin softly brushes along yours when he does so, making a strange feeling of nervousness bundle up in your stomach, suddenly feeling funny at the contact of his hand subtly hitting yours on the ground. You can’t quite put a finger on it, you can’t even put a name or a label to the feeling. It’s new and it’s strange. You can’t say you hate it, though.
“Yeah, it must be nice.”
28TH JUNE, 1:26AM. 3 HOURS AND 51 MINUTES UNTIL THE END.
Soft snores hit your ears. You panic. You can’t sleep, you can’t relax. The reality seems like it’s crushing down on you, the sky is falling and it’s suffocating you. You almost beg for the higher forces to take you now, to take you out of the misery 4 hours earlier.
No, it’s not 4 hours. It’s 3 hours and 51 minutes. Not that your panicked brain is counting.
You try to ground yourself by playing with your fingers, taking a look at the peaceful man laying next to you asleep in his annoying hawaiian shirt. A noisy thought jumps into your brain and you swear you want to ignore it, you swear you want to push it out and forget about it, but you can’t. You just simply can’t.
Your body reacts on itself as you sit up and silently reach over his body to the black backpack sitting next to him on the ground. You battle with the zipper and make the bag open, clammy fingers shaking as you try hard to make no noise, sweaty palms rummaging through the insides of the bag in a desperate search of what’s yours.
You can still get to your family in time. You can still say goodbye if you find the necklace and run fast enough. Hell, you can even steal another car. You don’t care.
The search for the jewelry is hard, the small bag feeling like it’s way more bigger on the inside than it really is. You find a wallet, an empty water bottle, some useless keys and a lot of receipts, but your hands are yet to come in contact with the cold metal of your grandma’s necklace. Rush creeps up your neck as you quicken your pace and stop caring about the noise, feeling around the texture of the bag, until you finally take the necklace into your hands, breathing quick and shallow.
You turn to pull away from the bag, ready to sprint away. You’re more than ready to leave Na Jaemin there alone in the grass, you’re more than ready to let him suffer on his own. It’s not like he needed your help anymore anyways, right?
A hand on your shoulder stops you in your movements, a tight hand coming in contact with your closed palm. The necklace dingles out of the closet fist, Jaemin’s gentle hold feeling too careful on your skin. Hushed whisper leaves his mouth, his eyes hooded when he stares at you through the tiredness.
“Stay with me a little longer, yeah? Just a little longer.”
You feel tears brimming the edge of your eyes, his gaze meeting yours in silent, hushed words. You don’t dare to say any of your thoughts out loud.
Instead, you open your palm, letting him take the necklace out of your hold, hiding it inside of his pocket, his skin on yours still so gentle and soothing.
“You can’t buy that,” Jaemin mumbled, shaking his head when a customer once again brought the beautiful necklace to the counter with a tight smile on their face.
“Why?” they ask.
A thought, a memory, one that pained him on the inside and followed him any time he saw the jewelry in its full glory, had appeared in his head as he saw a girl with a broken smile on her face taking a stack of money from his father, saying goodbye to the necklace. He swears that out of everyone he’d seen coming through the door of his parents’ pawnshop, your eyes looked the saddest while giving up something you owned.
One day, you’ll come and get it back. He knows that.
“You just can’t. I’m sorry.”
28TH JUNE, 4:33AM. 44 MINUTES BEFORE THE END.
Your sneakers kick the small rocks scattered along the lonely road. Jaemin’s steadily walking next to you, hands in his pockets. His gaze is averted to the ground and you check the time on the clock sitting at the top of the church tower, noticing the end inching closer and closer. Cold sinks into your bones when you realise what’s coming.
You reach a place away from the city. Trees envelope you into a tight hug as you walk inside the forested area and hear the leaves and branches under your feet making a soothing voice when you step on them, the cacophony sending shivers down your spine as you notice Jaemin turning his head around every once in a while, as if to see if you’re still really there, following him.
There’s not even an hour until the world ends. You have limited time to get home to your parents, you have only something around 40 minutes to get to them and say goodbye. The fact is still new and strange to wrap your head around, but it’s there and it’s present, chewing on your bones.
A metal structure makes its presence known when Jaemin turns the corner and shows you the spacious place with the palm of his hand. You quickly recognise the black door and the dusty brown exterior to be the bunker shown on the TV, the bunker advertised with the price being higher than what your wage for the year is. The price was astronomically high, making you wonder– is this how much a human’s life is worth? Is your life not worth just as much? Are you not on the same level just because you can’t afford it?
Glossy, empty eyes reach yours when he turns his head to look at you. “This is… this is it.” he nods, teeth chewing on his insides. “I would invite you in, but I can’t, the oxygen is only for three people and-”
“It’s okay,” you nod. You make sure he doesn’t feel guilty, because even though you’re frustrated at how this world works and your whole life, your motto was ‘eat the rich’, it’s not really Na Jaemin’s fault, is it?
It’s not his fault that he was born into a wealthy family. It’s not his fault that you, on the other hand, wasn’t. It’s not his fault that the world is ending. It’s not his fault that the bunkers are so expensive. It’s not his fault he can afford to survive and you can’t. He’s just doing what he has to do. This is a survival game and he is doing the most with the advantages he was given. How could you ever blame him?
“You have like… 35 minutes to get back now. You should make it by car, if you really speed up.” he says, playing with his fingers. This all feels weird– it feels wrong. Are you saying goodbye to him? Are you finally letting go of the strange friendship you managed to create with the boy? It all feels like saying goodbye on a first date, but there was nothing romantic in this scenario. It was awkward. And at the same time, it hurt.
It hurt to say goodbye to the only boy you ever called a friend.
You take in a shaky breath, looking around. You see the leaves above you waving at you in the wind, making you wonder how much the world will suffer when the missiles make them burn down and disappear. You’re suddenly glad the bunker is so deep in the ground, making sure no missile will ever reach it, protecting Jaemin and his family from death.
Is this how caring for someone feels? Being glad they’re going to be okay?
“I’m- I…” you start, but he cuts you off. His bag falls to the ground when he takes it off his shoulder and shuffles around in it, taking out the thing that was the beginning of this all– your dear grandmother’s necklace, golden and shiny with youth. His hand reaches out to you, the small rose hitting the rays of the first sun in the morning, his grip a little shaky.
“Here,” he says, offering you the jewelry, “sorry for… making you wait so long. And for taking it with me and forcing you to stay…” he mumbles, when reality hits both of you, making you decide to do what’s best and chuckle at him, taking him by the hand.
“Na Jaemin, I would have taken the necklace from you the first moment I could if I really wanted to. I was raised on the streets, remember?” you grin, shaking your head in disbelief. “I guess I wanted a little road trip before I go,” you shrug.
Eyes shimmering in the purple hues dwell into yours, sincerity written in his features. “I didn’t…” he mumbles, then shakes his head as well, chuckling. “Yeah.”
“Well,” you say, walking a little so you see the edge of the forest, the city far in front of you behind the spacious fields greeting you for one last time. You see the purple hues making its presence known through the humongous trees, the sun rising for one last time, greeting you with the beauty of the act you loved to watch so many times in the morning. It’s beautiful and it feels like the sky was saving the best for last– to give the poor people one last thing to fawn upon, one last beginning and make it the prettiest it could ever be, saying goodbye to the children running around the earth with sadness in their heart. “I guess it’s near.” you say, nodding, “the end, I mean.”
Cold fingers, despite the outside temperature, hit the back of your neck as Jaemin places the necklace once belonging to your grandma around your neck, hot breath tickling your back as he smooths his hands down your shoulders. Goosebumps appear all over your arms, just like the last time he held you, your fingers playing with the rose on your neck, lost in thought.
“It’s only about… 15 minutes before the end now,” he says.
Weird. You didn’t even realise you’ve been staring at the sunrise, wordlessly, for such a long time now.
“You should go inside, then,” you whisper, standing up and turning around to look at him. The face he’s wearing does nothing to comfort you, but deep inside, you know that you’re already much greeted with the fact that you’re going to die. It’s not like you haven’t wished for it to happen when you were bullied in middle school. Now that it’s happening for real, it doesn’t feel as welcoming anymore.
He shakes his head. Long legs reach the door of the bunker, his slender fingers typing in the code to the bunker. You watch him from close, your feet slowly reaching his figure right in front of the bunker, when he takes you by the hand and moves you to the open door.
“You should go.”
Stern eyes stare into yours, hand gripping your wrist as your breathing catches in your throat. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jaemin.”
“Just go. Go down, save yourself.” he says, fierce eyes shooting you down like daggers.
“What are you even talking about? What’s this?”
Confusion. You don’t feel confused a lot– it’s an emotion you know so little of in your whole, short life. You always figure things out. There’s no time for confusion when you live on the streets. You either survive, or you don’t. But this– this is different.
“Go down, Y/N. There’s only space for one of us. Just go.” he says, gritting his teeth.
“I’m not taking your space,” you shake your head, still confused.
“It was never my space to begin with,” he chuckles, throwing his hands into the air in frustration.
“What do you mean-”
“Look, Y/N,” he says, taking a deep breath in, chewing on his bottom lip, before he speaks up again, “where’s the difference between the two of us? Why am I the one that gets to survive? Fuck, I don’t want to survive! My life sucks. My life fucking sucks, okay? There’s no use in me staying here. So I am begging you to go down and live-”
“Don’t say that,” you mumble, trying to calm him down. Your hand shoots to grasp his, sweaty palms coming into contact with his cold skin.
“I’m useless,” he mutters, staring deep into your eyes, “I can’t even drive. I can’t do anything. I am clueless- the kids are dying all around the world and I am doing nothing. There are world problems bigger than my own head happening and I know nothing about them, I don’t know how to stop them, it’s just… I have power, but at the same time, I don’t. I only have money,” he snickers. “I don’t… I don’t have anything else.”
“Who am I going to live here for? Everyone’s gone anyway,” you shake your head, “don’t be ridiculous. Go down there with your family. Go to your mum. Go to your dad. Be happy you’re all together, be happy you get to live with them!” you desperately plead.
You feel the clock ticking, the minutes growing closer and closer. You don’t want him to die like this. You don’t want him to end just because he’s feeling hopeless. You don’t get it– you don’t realise the worth of his words.
“Y/N, you don’t understand. I wasn’t- I wasn’t even supposed to be here. I hid from my parents when they went here, because fuck, I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to survive-”
“Don’t say that.” you shake your head.
“Can you say that you lived your life? Can you say it was worth it? Because I for sure know it wasn’t. I didn’t come with my parents because I didn’t want to.” he lightly chuckles, making you snap out, annoyance written all over your features now.
“Why did you make me go all the way here, then?!”
Silence.
Dead silence spreads through the forest, the weight of your emotions sitting on his shoulders. You could have stayed with your family. You could have died with them, you could have said goodbye to them one last time. He made you go all the way here just to die, because he was selfish and didn’t want to die alone.
“Huh? Why are we here then, Jaemin? You either fucking go inside that fucking bunker for making me die alone, or I kick your ass down the stairs, but there’s no way I went here for nothing. And you best believe I am not taking your spot in the bunker. I’m not selfish like you, you fucking-”
“It was all for you!” he screams, jolting you awake from your frustration.
“What the fuck are you even talking about?”
“We went all the way here so you could crawl in there instead of me.”
“This is not about me, though, Jaemin, this is about you and your selfish needs and your incoherent brain-”
Soft lips invite themselves onto yours, shutting you up as you get lost in the strange feeling. A boy with doe eyes kisses you, stealing away the first time you ever emotionally interacted with anyone, taking your breath away as his shaky hands land on your cheeks to keep you close to him. He pulls away shortly after, forehead pressed against yours as he keeps staring into your eyes and whispers against your lips.
“Get the fuck inside, okay?” he desperately pleads. “Get inside. It will break my heart if you don’t.”
“Jaemin…”
You don’t know what made him make you go with him that time in the pawn shop. You are sure the feeling of fondness and perhaps something even stronger hanging around in the air right now is not what made him want to save you, you bet he didn’t even know it will turn out this way– with his lips against yours– when he made you travel across the country for a single piece of jewelry. It’s all a mystery to you, and perhaps, it’s all a mystery to Na Jaemin as well.
Was it sympathy? Or did he simply just feel bad for you?
Did you make him decide this way just because you went there to steal something so important to you that you didn’t want to die without it, that it made him desire keeping you alive, if it was only for that one single thing?
You don’t know. You truly don’t. But there’s one thing you know, and that is that you don’t have much time. You are going to die at the hands of capitalism and conspiracy theories in 5 minutes.
“I can’t go there. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew I stole your spot.”
“I’m giving it to you, though. Please, just go there, please-”
“Please.” you shut him up, tone of voice stern. He knows what you want. He knows you want him to go there, to lock himself up in the bunker and survive the storm with his parents. Na Jaemin decided against that a long, long time ago, though.
And not even you can change his mind.
And when you stare into his eyes the last time, understanding you can’t move mountains even if you really tried, you do the last thing you can think of before the end really takes its place–
with purple skies illuminating the act, a missile coming down to earth with astronomical speed and noise louder than everything you’ve ever heard of, you take his lips with yours for one last time, hearing the automatic door of the bunker close behind your back when you kiss him, feeling the emotion you’ve learnt is love the first time yesterday, with Na Jaemin guiding you through your last days. It feels too quick and too sudden, but you guess your emotions had no time for denial.
You didn’t have much, but with him, your last moments felt worth it.
Your world ends with a missile hitting the ground and a boy in an obnoxious hawaiian shirt kissing you on the lips, smiling into the act. Aquamarine fills your hearts when he wipes the stray tear falling down your cheek, getting ready for the impact, when you realise,
Na Jaemin was ready to give you everything he had.