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He drove four hours as soon as the power died across the southeast, as soon as the radios were blaring the national anthem behind automated messages about shelter and prayer.
Ludwig just got in his car and drove. His girlfriend clung to him, begging him to stay, screaming. His greatest regret, loving someone he could never choose at the end of the world.
He was able to find a signal about two hours in, nearly three. Three hours of fear, and doubt, and second-guessing. Would he be there, at their spot? Would he be sitting under the sunrise on the rockface, tired and teary-eyed? Would he make it in time to press their lips together and touch him like it might save his life?
”Hey,” he said into the phone. It felt odd. It felt wrong.
”Hi,” Jerma replied. It felt exactly right. “I’m… I’m here. I’m right here.”
Ludwig could hear the wind blowing across the microphone. His heart felt like it might leap from his chest, piercing through his skin. The roads were empty for miles ahead, the sun was rising, and Jerma was talking to him. Talking him down from a ledge, in a way. Ludwig knew then, his eyes glancing at the sky, looking for the end; he knew then that he could die happily, even if he never made it.
And Jeremy didn’t see him at first, when he finally arrived. Or maybe he did, and he just couldn’t bring himself to look. Ludwig threw his phone and keys onto the ground, kneeling beside him, chest already heaving. He was panicking, and Jeremy wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his back, and said, “It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay…”
And now, Ludwig couldn’t look away. Jerma’s exposed skin under him, scarred and bruised, pale and soft. He was breathing heavily, unable to lie still. The smell of desert air and Jerma’s scent. Warm and homey. Honey. Comfy. Ludwig shivered, the desert was still cold from the night but the sun was shining brilliantly over them.
”It doesn’t feel like the end of the world,” he said, a lopsided smile.
”No,” Jerma whispered. “Feels. Feels more like a beginning.”
Ludwig placed his hand tentatively on Jerma’s chest. His skin was cold. He was so pale, so soft. Ludwig felt like he might sink through him, a ghost under him. “I’m so sorry,” he wept, so quiet he almost couldn’t hear it over the sound of blood crashing around in his ears.
Jerma placed a hand on his cheek, and rubbed his thumb there, soothing him as he guided him down. Then his arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. “You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Jerma said. “It just… wasn’t the right life. For– for us, for this.”
”Wasn’t the right world,” Ludwig said, distorted by his stuffy nose.
Jerma nodded, ran a hand up and down Ludwig’s back. “Any minute now, I think.”
Ludwig didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to be aware of anything except Jerma’s hands and lips on his skin until he wasn’t aware of anything at all.
The loudest sound he’d ever heard in his life rang out over the wasteland around them. A few moments later, there was another. Ludwig opened his eyes and tilted his head up where it was still pressed to Jerma’s chest. He looked back at him with red-rimmed eyes, the saddest smile.
He kissed him like it was the end of the world. Jeremy kissed him back in kind. He could see the sky growing darker from behind his eyelids. He could smell something, wasn’t sure what, just knew that it wasn’t normal. Jeremy clung tighter and whimpered into his mouth after another boom shook the ground.
And then another.