Work Text:
There is an entomologist, his name is not world-renowned, and neither is his profession.
And there is an anthropologist, where his name is not world-renowned, with his profession following the popularity of it.
The sun was progressively growing brighter, and it was meant to be 9:46PM at night.
"Bugs," the Anthropologist started, "they're like mammals."
The Entomologist stared at the bright sky, an ominous orange and an illuminated illustration.
"And mammals, are like humans." He continues for the Anthropologist, a conversation they've had before. Weighted, this time.
"Bugs are similar to humans, aren't they?" It's almost rehearsed, the way the Anthropologist says it the same as he had every time this conversation came by.
This was always the starter. Where it led always sat in the air.
But this time, the air only seemed to be hotter, tighter to breathe.
"Similar, yes. But... Different. Easier than them, I'll say that much." The Entomologist leaned against the Anthropologist, taking his hand and his gaze unwavering. Silence overtook.
The grass was warm, and they bathed like cats to a sunbeam. In this light, the Anthropologist looks at his Entomologist. With eyes so sorrowful, his curiosity still stood prominent, even in this moment. He studied it.
Old weariness that's grown in the others look. Accepted fear, acknowledged, discomfort and no desire in it. This is not what he wants.
The Entomologist squeezes the Anthropologists hand, closing his eyes and savouring the feeling, before opening them back up with a shift in tone.
The expression now unreadable, the Anthropologist looked away. He squeezes the Entomologists.
"Do you think this is it?" The elephant in the room gets exposed, the Entomologist now turning his head towards the one who said it.
"Even if it isn't, would you say you love me?"
"Of course."
"Will you, now?"
"I love you." The Anthropologist sighs, his voice crackling. "I will after this, too."
"That isn't possible," is the response, a thread of dread laced through it.
"Humans weren't meant to be." A sniffle comes out, the Anthropologist now crying. It wasn't tearing up, it wasn't sobbing.
Just crying.
"Were bugs?" The entomologist asks, coming closer and cupping his cheek carefully. He didn't wipe the waters that streamed.
They seemed to dry quickly, anyways.
"They might've been. I don't know." A shaky breath was let into the hand that cupped his cheek, as the lighting grew brighter on his face and his glossy eyes shut. "I bet they loved you. You dedicated everything to them. I'm sure their existence was made for you."
"I bet you loved me. You dedicated everything to me. I'm sure my existence was made for you."
A choked noise is strangled out of the Anthropologist. The Entomologist comforts him graciously.
It was coming to a close, now. They both called it the "2nd Big Bang," even knowing this was it. There wasn't really anything going to be shaped anew after this. No miraculous reincarnation, no beautiful new start.
Nothing but cosmic matter to be decomposed.
"Do you know that I love you now?" Just barely, it was stuttered out, the Anthropologist curling in closer to his beloved. Holding him, too.
"I do," is confirmed in response. The Entomologist began to cry, too. His dearest squeezed him, and after a breath, he continued.
"I think, after this. I'll love you too."
The two men sat, softly weeping in the others presence. They didn't get their story finished. They were so young. They were still so new to this world, there was still so much to explore.
So much of them to explore for one another.
But, this was inevitable.
They got to the part where they loved, and they both had a moment of silence, understanding.
The words that were spoken, repeated between the two of them; I will love you after this, too.
And the sunrise at 10:00PM that day, had been as radiant and beautiful as ever—
—before all that had happened was as gone as swiftly as it came.