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Dan dresses up for the occasion, obviously.
He paints his nails jet black, lines his eyes with a liquid eyeliner he looted from the corner store, puts on his nicest coat and his ripped jeans. He turns around in the mirror to admire the way his jeans cup his ass, and for a moment he longs for someone to put their hands on him. He misses being touched. But it’s too late for that now, obviously.
He takes Phil out to the woods behind their house. He remembers the first time they saw their home, in its unfinished state. They stood side-by-side in the foyer, not touching, as builders moved around them, telling them the progress, everything that was unfinished. It was weird - he thought he would care, but right then, standing next to Phil, he found he really, really didn’t. Didn’t care what was unfinished, what needed to be done, how much longer it would take, because he had Phil and it was their home, finally, and that was all that mattered. The way Phil turned and smiled up at him, like he could read Dan’s thoughts (he probably could), and the bravery Dan felt spike through his body as he turned his palm to Phil’s and laced their fingers together.
At the beginning of the end, Dan wished he’d been brave more often. He spent so long hiding who he was, overcorrecting for the sins of his childhood, the tendrils of societal homophobia that curled around him and didn’t let him breathe. He wished he’d been brave enough to walk down the street with Phil holding hands, that they could kiss in public somewhere that wasn’t quiet alleyways, under a cherry tree in Japan, a private carriage at the top of the Manchester Eye.
Now, as he makes his way through the woods with Phil in tow, he knows there’s no more room for regret. Not now. Not at the end of the end.
He finally finds what he was looking for, a log overlooking a vast array of grass, and sits beside Phil on the log. It’s so dark and quiet and beautiful up here, lit only by the stars in the sky and the moon, that he can hardly believe it’s the end.
Until he looks up at the night sky, that is, and finds the moon-covered sun slowly but steadily hurtling towards them, ready to blow the Earth into oblivion. The scientists said it could be any minute now, before his radio cut out. Somehow, he isn’t scared. He knew it was coming. Deep down, he thinks everyone did. It’s just that no one wanted to confront the end of the world until it was too late.
“I wish,” Dan says, his voice raw from lack of use. He doesn’t know the last time he spoke out loud, and he barely recognizes the sound of it. “I wish,” he tries again.
What does he wish? The only thing he regrets, really, is he won’t get more time with Phil. Since that first week in 2009 he saw them growing old together, adopting a bunch of animals, maybe a child or two, complaining side-by-side in rocking chairs, laying by Phil’s side as he passed away in his 90s, reminiscing on seven decades together. He never could have imagined it would all end at 31. He barely even got to be an adult. That’s the grand irony of it all. As soon as he finally figured it all out, it was over.
“I wish I could have done more,” Dan says, finally.
Phil doesn’t answer. Hasn’t since he passed away all those months ago, unable to get to a hospital, right when they learned the world would end, when everyone rioted, when everyone gave up, when it was every man for himself and Dan couldn’t do the one thing he needed to and protect Phil.
Now he looks at the bones of his best friend and, despite himself, smiles. He’s never been a religious person, but Phil was spiritual and sometimes spoke vaguely of an afterlife. Dan takes Phil’s hand and prays for the first time since he was a kid. Prays that Phil was right one last time. That he’s about to be reunited with the only person he’s ever loved, and the only person he’d allowed to love him in return.
He looks up at the sky. The moon is rapidly getting closer. Dan feels a tear fall down his cheeks. That’s weird, he never thought he’d cry when it was finally over. He grips Phil’s hand tighter. He wishes he could think of good last words but, then again, if no one is around to hear it, why bother?
“Who am I kidding?” he asks Phil, tears bubbling hysterically out of his chest, as he looks up towards the sun, ready to burn him alive. “We were all doomed!”
He squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t look at the end. Instead, he tries to breathe and think of Phil. They’ll be together soon. He knows it. He knows Phil was right. Phil has to have been right. This cannot be the end. Just a new beginning.
Everything behind his eyes goes white and burning hot as, finally, the sun hits.
END