Archive of Our Own

For the longest time, Mei has regarded herself as the last human on planet Earth.

It might not be a totally accurate statement, but the quiet desolation that surrounds every waking moment of her existence does nothing to dissuade her from that conclusion. She’s been driving around in a beat-up truck for as long as she can remember, trying to find any sign of life in a world so perfectly devoid of it. Truthfully, she couldn’t say what exactly happened for the world to become the state that it is now. It’s as if every living being suddenly vanished, leaving behind small traces of their existences in half empty gas station shelves and half full garbage bags.

Mei has no destination in mind. Sometimes, she wonders if she’s driving in circles, or if the world has stagnated enough that every new town looks the same as the last. The sky above is her only companion, the sun and moon and stars witnessing her unchanging journey. Maybe they’re cheering her on, telling her that perhaps tomorrow will be the day something unexpected happens. Or maybe they’re mocking her—impatiently waiting for the day she finally joins the rest of humanity, wherever they are.

There’s a music store coming up on her left. It’s one of those brand name ones, the kind with the fancy logo and the posters on the window advertising a loyalty rewards program. The lights are off and the glass door has a Sorry, we’re closed! sign plastered behind it. Mei’s truck sputters to a stop next to the curb, perfectly positioned between two abandoned SUVs. She’s been practicing her parallel parking after she totaled her last car on her first attempt. There’s little point in doing so, given that the roads are occupied by no one but herself, but the feeling of improving at things that everyone used to do gives her a sense of normalcy.

She grabs the crowbar from her truck bed and avoids ruining the peeling posters as best she can when she enters the store. The afternoon sun illuminates the inside well enough, so she forgoes her flashlight and settles on rummaging through the shelves for more cassette tapes. The truck she’s using doesn’t have a radio—not that those work anymore—and only takes cassettes. More often than not, the music being played is in a language she doesn’t understand from artists she doesn’t recognize. There’s a novelty in that, she likes to think. She’s expanding her horizons and understanding of the world. Or, rather, what was the world.

Eventually, she finds a stack of cassettes in a plastic bin behind the cash register. The tapes bear the names of unfamiliar songs and are bound together by dust and neatly tied twine—most likely specially prepared for a customer’s reservation, if Mei had to guess. She gently stashes them into her satchel and moves farther into the store, searching for the storage room. She passes by rows of collector’s edition vinyl records and acoustic guitars. It would be fun to learn how to play an instrument if anyone was around to hear her efforts.

The lock on the storage room provides only a temporary obstacle against Mei’s crowbar, and inside she finds the jackpot: two large plastic bins filled to the brim with cassette tapes. She stacks the bins on top of each other and carefully carries them out of the store and into her truck’s bed. This will definitely last her until she finds a more suitable car for all-terrain driving—one that can hopefully play something other than cassette tapes.

The next stop on her to-do list for the day is to find more food. Without a home to settle down and start farming, Mei resorts to scrounging around for nonperishables and whatever hasn’t expired yet according to her rough estimation of the month and year. Sometimes, she considers starting a mobile farmland on her truck bed, but the rapidly changing environments as a result of her constant driving makes her doubtful of its success.

It doesn’t take long for Mei to pull into the parking lot of this town’s grocery store. There are still some cars scattered around, its owners long gone. Unfortunately, none of them are the type of truck that’ll suit her needs, so she heads into the store with her crowbar and a shopping cart originally parked by a minivan’s trunk.

There’s a decent amount of nonperishables left behind on the shelves, and by the time the sun is beginning to dip beneath the horizon, Mei has loaded up half of her truck with canned food, water jugs, and various ingredients to practice her cooking. She takes a moment to double check her supplies before turning on the ignition and getting back onto the road. Satisfied with the day’s haul, she slips a random cassette tape into the player as she passes a town limit sign and heads into the open unknown.

Soft jazz fills the car, accompanied by the low rumble of the engine and the occasional chewing of beef jerky. There are shooting stars tonight—dazzling lights hailing from somewhere far, far away streaking across the dark, cloudless sky. Mei envies them, sometimes. The stars seem to always travel with a purpose. Always in groups, and always bright enough to remind others of their presence. The phenomenon lasts only for a fleeting moment, but to Mei, the afterimage of the trails they leave behind will stay with her until she dies.

It’s easy to ignore everything on her mind during moments like this. Her headlights are turned low—just enough to see the road ahead, but not enough to obstruct her view of the stars. She feels more alone than ever, or maybe the world feels even bigger than ever. The full moon hangs high above like a spotlight focused solely on her. Maybe tonight, it’s consoling her and encouraging her onwards. The thought cheers her up a little.

Mei continues to drive long after the last shooting star reaches its faraway destination. The cassette tape has ended, and the new one she inserts is a buzzy pop track that shakes off any sleepiness she might’ve had. It’s late, but Mei doesn’t want to stop for the night anytime soon. With the windows rolled down to let in a steady breeze and the moonlight as her companion, she feels as though she could drive for eternity.

That is, until a silhouetted figure appears in the distance and Mei has to slam hard onto the brakes to avoid hitting whatever is in front of her. She takes a deep, shaky breath and looks up to behold a sight she had never anticipated seeing, at least not in this manner.

A girl about Mei’s age steps into view before the truck’s headlights and waves an arm, grinning wildly. “Hey!” she yells, long white hair tied in a ponytail bouncing behind her. She has blindingly bright blue eyes that seem to glow, and in the dim light, her pupils almost look like the same stars Mei was admiring earlier. “Room for one more?”

“What—” Mei starts to say before breaking out into a cough, voice hoarse from disuse. She hastily scrabbles for the water bottle stashed in the cup holder, shocked gaze focused on the mysterious stranger all the while.

To the girl’s credit, she hasn’t moved an inch, patiently waiting for Mei to speak with the same lopsided grin plastered on her face. The outfit she’s wearing—a simple orange-and-white hoodie with black leggings—looks freshly laundered, a stark difference from Mei’s dirty purple t-shirt and jeans.

“Who are you?” Mei eventually asks after having downed half of her water bottle. “Where did—what…”

“I’m Kiana!” says the stranger, shoving her hands into her pockets and rocking on the balls of her feet. “And you are?”

“Uh—Mei. My name is Mei.”

“Nice to meet you, Mei. As you can see, I don’t exactly have a car right now.” Kiana scratches the back of her head, lazy smile turning sheepish. “So I was wondering if maybe I could…?”

Mei blinks and remembers to shift the truck into park. Kiana doesn’t look particularly dangerous, but the situation at hand leaves her wary regardless. It’s hard for her to wrap her head around the fact that a living, breathing person is standing right in front of her. A part of her wonders if Kiana is even real, or if the loneliness has finally caused her to hallucinate companionship.

“Do you have somewhere you need to go?” Mei settles on asking after a moment. She’s not particularly keen on leaving her truck right now, but she also doesn’t want to end the opportunity to talk to someone other than herself any earlier than necessary.

“Hmm… nope! But going somewhere at all beats going nowhere, right? Besides, I like the music you’re playing.”

Oh, right. The cassette’s still rolling, the singer launching into an upbeat chorus that Mei has long stopped paying attention to. Kiana is unconsciously tapping her foot to the beat, so Mei leaves it on and says, somewhat awkwardly, “Thanks.”

“So whaddya think? Me and you, traveling around together in your truck going to who knows where. We’ll figure out the destination as we go. Sounds pretty fun, right?”

Admittedly, Mei has a lot of questions concerning the girl named Kiana standing in front of her, starting with Where did you come from? and Do you know if there are more people around? What she ends up settling on saying, however, is, “Yeah. Yeah, okay. We can—we can do that.”

Maybe it’s because Mei is so starved for any source of human interaction that she’s willing to take a chance on a complete stranger. Maybe the lack of any form of social stimuli has finally broken her down enough. Or, maybe the blinding radiance that seems to emit from Kiana herself—with that unnatural hair color and glowing, star-like eyes—has mesmerized Mei like a moth to a flame.

What a strange feeling it is, to finally lay eyes upon something other than monotonous paved roads and abandoned storefronts. A supernova must have exploded here at this very spot, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by sparse trees and dry grass. A devastating event ringing out across multiple star systems, all to shine new light upon a planet that can no longer produce its own. A part of Mei is terrified at this sudden change, this shift in the routine that has become as familiar as the functions of her own body.

But she agrees to Kiana’s request anyways, and unlocks the side door anyways, and shuffles the disorganized supplies around to make room anyways, because the part of her that yearns for something new and novel is so much louder than the part that never wants this quiet solitude to end.

Kiana beams like she just won the lottery, and she slips into the passenger seat without an ounce of hesitation. The click of the seatbelt buckle rings like a death knell. Then, Mei shifts into drive, and the two of them are off.

They don’t talk much, initially. At one point, when the last of the trees disappear behind them, Kiana asks where they’re planning to stop for the night, but Mei is feeling too wired to do anything but keep driving.

“That’s fine with me,” Kiana says. “It’s pretty tonight anyways.”

“Mm,” Mei replies. She asks Kiana to switch out the cassette tape when it ends, so Kiana spends a solid few minutes rooting around Mei’s satchel for something, quote, “suitable for the scenery.”

Classical music ends up being Kiana’s choice. It’s a slow, nostalgic sort of song. Mei is sure she’s heard it before, back when others were around. Those days are nothing but fuzzy memories to her now, replaced by scenes of endless wandering, town limit signs, and the sound of gasoline being poured into a fuel tank.

It’s only when the harmony of piano and strings reach a gentle decrescendo that Mei finally asks, “What have you been up to all this time?”

From the corner of Mei’s eye, Kiana is resting her hand on her cheek, elbow pressed against the door and eyes glued to the view outside the rolled-down window. She’s humming along to the beat, and at Mei’s question, says, “The same thing as you, probably. Waiting for something to change.”

“Does that include walking down the road in the middle of the night?”

“Well, usually, there are never any cars around that could potentially hit me,” Kiana replies, a smile in her voice. There’s a soft rustling noise as she adjusts her position to look ahead. “But for what you’re really asking: no, you’re the first person I’ve seen in a long time.”

“Maybe this is a sign that more people will start to show up,” Mei says, but the words ring hollow in her ears.

Kiana huffs out a short laugh. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

They lapse into a more comfortable silence this time and stay that way for a few hours. Whenever a tape comes to an end, Kiana is ready with a new one to slide in, each a different genre from the last. Eventually, when the sky begins to transition into a soft pink, Mei pulls over and turns the engine off. Exhaustion has finally caught up to her, so she leans the seat back and prepares to go to sleep. Kiana follows her lead and pauses the rock song that’s currently playing.

“Good night,” Kiana says, turning to face Mei with her head pillowed on top of her hands. The shine in her eyes hasn’t dimmed at all.

“Ah—mm. Good night.”

Kiana giggles. “Why do you sound so shocked?”

“I just—I’m not used to hearing that,” Mei says. She can feel her cheeks start to heat up. “Whatever. Good night, Kiana.”

“Hehe. Good night, Mei.”

Kiana is still asleep when Mei wakes up in the morning, or rather, midday. Mei opens the side door as quietly as possible and makes her way to the truck bed, stomach growling. She has plenty of nonperishables to choose from for breakfast, but given that she has a guest now, she figures it’s a better time than ever to cook something proper.

The outdoor cooking set she found a few towns ago has yet to fail her. It doesn’t take her long to get the grill going and the vegetables she had scavenged yesterday prepared. She’s been lucky so far—between finding them in cans or in overgrown gardens, there’s been a consistent variety of semi-fresh vegetables to work with. Though, the best she can do with what she currently has is an assortment of grilled scallions, bell peppers, and corn. It’s not the most inspired of dishes, but it beats the usual canned tomato soup.

The smell wafting from the grill is what finally rouses Kiana from her slumber. Mei watches as the other girl stumbles out of the car and walks over to sit on the edge of the tailgate, yawning all the while.

“Good morning,” Mei says, distributing the vegetables onto two paper plates as evenly as she can.

Kiana tiredly rubs at her eyes and mumbles out a soft, “Morning.”

“I take it you slept well.”

The response Mei receives is a semi-incoherent string of words that sounds something like, “Yup, best sleep of my life.”

Mei chuckles and passes Kiana a fork and plate. “I made us breakfast.”

“Whoa, for real?” Kiana gasps, instantly perking up. She stares at the grilled vegetables like they’re a delicacy she’s never seen before. Without waiting for any formalities, she begins scarfing it down and exclaims around a mouthful of food, “This is—the best meal—I’ve ever had!”

“Slow down, slow down,” Mei says, frantically searching for a handkerchief or towel for Kiana to wipe her face with. “It’s just some vegetables, I really didn’t…”

“Nope, this is—wow! Super good! The best!” Within seconds, Kiana’s plate is wiped clean before Mei can even touch her own portion. She takes the offered handkerchief and wipes her face with a grin. “Were you some kind of professional chef? No—wait, you must be better than one, right? Right?”

The barrage of compliments leaves Mei’s face bright red and as warm as the sunlight bearing down upon the two of them. “Ah, no, I wasn’t anything like that. I just—I cook for fun. To not have to rely on canned food all the time.”

“Then you have to make stuff like this more. You’ve got a real talent for it!”

“If you say so…” Mei says, turning away to eat. There’s a fuzzy sort of feeling blooming deep within her chest, the kind that makes her ache. She’s not sure how to describe it—she’s never felt this way before, even back when society was intact. Sleep deprivation, maybe, or perhaps the changing weather as spring transitions into summer.

Kiana busies herself with rooting around the supplies stowed away on the truck bed as Mei finishes her meal. She “oohs” and “aahs” at the collection of cassette tapes Mei found yesterday, excitedly pointing out the ones she recognizes. There’s an old visitor’s guide for a tourist town off the coast that Mei vaguely remembers having picked up a few months ago, advertising various restaurants and fishing spots. Kiana takes particular interest in it, pausing her rummaging to read through it.

Meanwhile, Mei takes the time to pack up and prepare to get back on the road. Her typical morning routine feels a little strange now, what with the addition of another person to it. She can’t say she hates it. Having Kiana around feels nice, even though they’ve only just met each other last night. Thinking back to her original goal of aimlessly driving around until she finds signs of life gives her pause. At long last, she’s met another human being, a small piece of evidence proving she’s not totally alone in this world.

So, what now?

“What’s the plan today?” Kiana asks as Mei absentmindedly closes the tailgate. She’s still holding onto that brochure. “More driving, I assume?”

Mei fiddles with the hem of her shirt for a moment before replying, “Yeah. Still a lot more road left to go, you know.”

“Sweet. Can I control the music again?”

“You don’t have to ask,” Mei says. The two of them clamber into the front seats in almost perfect sync. Kiana drops a stack of cassette tapes onto her lap, most likely from the plastic bins she was looking through earlier.

“This will last us the entire day,” Kiana says proudly. “I picked out some of my favorites, but I’m not sure what you like, so you’ll have to let me know next time so I can add them into the rotation.”

Mei buckles her seatbelt and shrugs. “I don’t really have any particular favorites.”

“That can’t be true! You probably just haven’t found them yet,” Kiana says, sounding aggrieved on Mei’s behalf. “Okay, new plan. Every time a tape ends, you rate it from one to ten. One if you absolutely hated it and would rather burn it, and ten if you think it’s the best thing ever and want to listen to it all day.”

Mei laughs. “Sure, okay, we can do that. I’ll give you my honest opinions.”

“Perfect!” Kiana says. Satisfied, she pops in the first tape of many and leans back as the truck sets off.

The next few hours fall into a simple routine. When music stops playing, Kiana withholds inserting a new tape until Mei gives a rank between one and ten. Most of the time, Mei’s ratings fall between a neutral five and eight, to Kiana’s minor irritation. Occasionally, they talk about the scenery around them or what they expect to find in the next town. However, any topics concerning their own personal lives or past never come up. Mei finds it too awkward to discuss given the laidback atmosphere, and Kiana seems to have no interest in it at all.

“Land ahoy!” Kiana announces as a town appears over the horizon. It’s another small, rural one by the looks of it. If they’re lucky, it’ll host a working gas station and a semi-stocked grocery store. Earlier, Kiana brought up how she wanted to snag some pillows and blankets to make the nights go by easier, so Mei keeps an eye out for a general store as well. She could easily steal from the multitude of abandoned houses scattered around, but doing so feels wrong. What if the owners suddenly return only to find their home ransacked? Mei would be plagued with guilt.

Their first stop is a gas station at the edge of town. Mei tops off the tank and a few of the jerry cans she leaves in the truck bed while Kiana heads into the store with a crowbar to look around.

“All of the snacks have expired,” Kiana laments when she returns with a downcast expression and a pair of brand new sunglasses on her forehead. “Now I’ll have no choice but to eat your cooking for the rest of my life.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Mei teases as she backs out of the lot. “I thought my cooking was, quote, the best thing ever?”

“No no no, it is!” Kiana quickly clarifies. “I—wait, you’re teasing me!”

“Hmm. What makes you say that?”

“You—never mind,” Kiana huffs, but there’s no anger in her tone. Rather, she’s turning away to look anywhere but Mei’s general direction. “Oh hey, there’s the grocery store!”

She’s not wrong, but the obvious attempt at a subject change causes Mei to burst into laughter. It doesn’t take much for Kiana to give up on pretending to be mad and join in on Mei’s infectious giggling. They’re both teary eyed and gasping for air by the time they pull into the parking lot, and Mei has never felt so alive.

It turns out that it’s a lot easier to ferry supplies from the shelves to the truck with an extra pair of hands. They’re in and out in record time; the only thing left between them and leaving town is to now find anything that will help Kiana sleep better.

“I think I saw a furniture store over by the bank,” Kiana points out as Mei drives through the deserted streets. “Wait, you passed it. Turn right—there, you see it. The mom-and-pop one.”

The store itself is nothing more than one small room that’s stuffed to the brim with antique lamps, moth-bitten sofas, and creaky wooden drawers. Mei elects to stay in the car given the limited space inside, so Kiana heads in alone. Through the large storefront window, Mei watches as she picks out two throw pillows that are still in relatively good condition and takes them with her, visibly satisfied.

“I couldn’t find any blankets, but this’ll do for now,” she says, tossing the pillows into the back. “One for me, and one for you.”

With the last item on their to-do list completed, they wave the town goodbye and continue their journey towards nowhere in particular. They stop to eat after a cassette tape of hard rock finishes playing and the sky has turned a dusky orange. Kiana sings praises of Mei’s shoddy attempt at spaghetti mixed with chunks of jerky while they sit on the edge of the tailgate and watch the sun set. Birds chirp in the distance, a rare occurrence given how animal sightings are now few and far between. Mei wonders if they’ll eventually all disappear like the humans before them, or if they’ll undergo mass propagation and reclaim the planet.

She brings this up to Kiana, who takes a moment to swallow before countering her question with another. “Who knows? Do you think you’ll randomly vanish one day, too?”

Truthfully, Mei used to wonder about that often. Why hasn’t she disappeared like the rest of humanity? Has her time simply not come, or is fate playing a cruel joke on her? She’s long stopped trying to make sense of how the world became this way—it’s not worth expending her energy on. She’d rather drive, leave everything behind, and ignore the deep-set ache in her bones. It’s how she’s survived, and it’s how she’ll keep surviving. Even the addition of another person on her journey has yet to change that.

“For what it’s worth,” Kiana says when Mei remains silent, unable to answer, “I wouldn’t want you to disappear. I was serious when I said I wanted to eat your super awesome meals for the rest of my life, so we should both live equally super awesome lives.”

“And then what?” Mei asks, voice almost a whisper. She’s not sure where this sudden vulnerability came from. She wishes she had never heard those birds.

Kiana shrugs. She puts her plate down and leans back on her hands, gazing up at the darkening sky. “I dunno. But I bet we’ll have made a lot of fun memories, so it wouldn’t really matter when it’s our time to go—disappearance or death or otherwise.”

“Hm. What kind of memories?”

“Listening to every single cassette tape you own, for starters,” Kiana says. An easy grin appears on her face, the kind that compliments the sparkle of her starry blue eyes. The kind that lifts Mei’s dampened mood, if only a little. “Second: having a picnic in those really big flower fields that stretch forever and ever.”

Mei finds herself chuckling. “You just want an excuse to eat more of my cooking.”

“Can you blame me? Anyways, that leads us to number three: climbing the tallest mountain we can find. At least until we get tired and have to turn back around before hypothermia claims us, or something.”

“I’ve never gone hiking before,” Mei comments. She props her leg up to rest her head on her knee and watch Kiana animatedly chatter on.

“That’s why there’s a first time for everything. Afterwards, we’ll raid toy store after toy store and build up a collection of every single board game we can find. We’ll play them all and keep track of who wins what, and the winner will be bequeathed the title of ‘Master of the Board.’”

“You must have thought about this a lot.”

Kiana sheepishly rubs the back of her head. “I want to do everything I’ve never had the chance to do, now that I’m able to. The fact that I have the opportunity to do it all with you makes me even more determined to cross these items off my list.” She turns to Mei, excitement softening into something more tender. “If you come up with any more ideas, definitely let me know. I don’t want to push you into doing only what I want to do.”

It’s funny how easily Kiana has inserted Mei into the grand plans she has for how she wants to live out the rest of her days. Maybe it’s because they currently only have each other, and it’d be boring for Kiana to attempt everything on her own. It’s the easy explanation.

“Okay,” Mei says. “I’ll think of something.”

“Good, because we still have yet to figure out our destination. What kind of road trip would this be without one?”

“I wasn’t under the impression that this was a road trip.”

Kiana stares at Mei as if she’s grown two heads. “Well, what else would you call it?”

To that, Mei has no answer. The life she’s carved out after everyone had disappeared, the nonstop driving for days and months and maybe even years on end, the refusal to stop and settle down—it had all simply become a state of being. To call it a mere trip would be almost disingenuous.

Noticing Mei’s expression, Kiana hurriedly backtracks. “Ah, but a trip doesn’t have to end once the destination is reached. It’s like checkpoints—once you get to one place, you go to another.”

“I guess that’s one way of putting it,” Mei says. She turns the thought over in her head, of going out of her way to travel to somewhere specific instead of driving down a straight line and hoping that points of interest come to her. She can’t imagine herself hating the idea, not when the essence of having no endpoint remains the same. “Then, how about we take turns figuring out the destinations? You can pick first, then I’ll decide on mine once we get there.”

“Putting me on the spot like this is cruel, Mei.” Kiana sighs dramatically, clearly relieved that the brief tension has lifted. “But I’ll oblige. Give me a bit, though. There’s lots of places to choose from and lots of places I want to go to.”

“Then I’ll think of the memories I want to make while you do that. Deal?”

The smile on Kiana’s face is blinding. “Deal!”

After they clean up their dinner, they agree to keep driving onwards until Kiana comes up with somewhere in particular for their first destination of many. Mei stops for the night at a more reasonable hour this time, and Kiana hands her one of the throw pillows as they lean their seats back.

“Good night, Mei,” Kiana says with a yawn, turning to face her.

“Mm. Good night, Kiana.”

The next few days end up falling into a familiar routine. Mei and Kiana wake up and eat breakfast together before driving until they reach another town, then take the opportunity to stock up on supplies before continuing onwards. Water jugs are refilled, cassette tapes are listened to, and Kiana is excitedly picking up “road trip souvenirs” as they go. She’s amassed quite the collection in an impressively short amount of time—screenprinted hats, cheap keychains, postcards, the works—and ends up needing a dedicated canvas bag to safely store them.

At one point, during a sunny afternoon, they find themselves driving past a community park. The playground is rusted and the grass is unkempt and wild, but despite that it looks as though it was well loved throughout the years it was active. Kiana insists on stopping to check it out.

“We deserve a break,” is her explanation as they step out of the car. She makes a show of stretching and puts on one of the many pairs of sunglasses she has now. “Plus, don’t the swings look fun?”

Mei can’t remember the last time she’s used the swings, much less been to a playground in general. Regardless, she indulges Kiana and follows her to a set of sunwashed red swings. Mei idly rocks back and forth while Kiana attempts to go as high as possible.

“If I go fast enough, maybe I’ll flip over the bar. That’d be sick,” Kiana says. She’s almost a blur in the periphery of Mei’s vision.

“That’d also be dangerous,” Mei adds. “You’d probably hit your head.”

Kiana laughs and kicks her legs out as far as she can when she swings forwards. “Pssh, semantics. I’d simply avoid the bar on my way back down the other side because of how fast I’d be going.”

“I’m… not sure that’s how that works.”

“Listen Mei, all you need to do is sit back and watch the master at work.”

“Uh huh. And you swing professionally?”

“I’ve actually won the gold medal for five years in a row if you’re so curious.”

A slight smile creeps onto Mei’s face. “I’d have to see it to believe it.”

The moment those words leave Mei’s lips, the spark of a fire ignites in Kiana’s eyes. She slows down a little to control her momentum better and then, after flashing Mei a cocky grin, launches herself up and off of the swing. For a split second, she’s in free fall. She’s poised to land in a clean crouch. She’s got her hair whipping behind her like the tail of a comet. She’s heading to a place Mei can never reach. She’s flying.

And she’s still wearing that stupid grin on her face when she turns to look at Mei after she hits the ground hard, rolling to a stop a few paces away. She’s triumphant and exhilarated and sweating and covered in dirt and so, so alive.

When Mei rushes forward to make sure Kiana’s okay, she ignores the seed of envy that nestles itself deep within her heart and focuses on scolding her instead.

They don’t talk about it, once they’re back in the truck and on the road. Nothing was bruised or bent or broken, so there’s no need to. Besides, Mei doesn’t really know Kiana all that well. The other girl could be an adrenaline junkie, for all she knows. One of those thrill seekers that pull off dangerous stunts for fun, even if it’s something as simple as jumping off of a swing set. Someone who lives their life on the edge, forgetting they only have one. Or perhaps it’s the complete opposite, and she chases those highs precisely because she’s aware of the limited time she has.

Mei doesn’t ask. She knows she won’t get an answer.

They fall back into their usual routine after an hour or two of listening to electronic music in complete silence. Kiana asks what Mei is planning on making for dinner later, which snowballs into sporadic conversations about nothing in particular that last until nightfall.

The days that follow are uneventful, for lack of a better term. They’re still far more lively than the period when Mei was driving solo, but aside from the occasional odd souvenir that Kiana picks up, nothing of note happens again. According to Mei’s crude internal calendar, it’s summer now. The days are longer and the sun is an oppressive heat that leaves the inside of the truck stuffy and stifling. There’s no air conditioner installed, so the windows are rolled all the way down in the hopes that a refreshing breeze passes through. The nights, at the very least, are cool and quiet respites.

It’s on one of these nights, when the stars are shining brightly in the cloudless sky, that Kiana has set up a blanket on the truck bed. She’s moved the supplies off to the side and onto the ground to make room for the two of them to lay down. Stargazing, she calls it.

“When I die, I want to explode into stardust,” Kiana says, apropos of nothing. Her fingertip lazily traces the constellations above them.

Mei is silent for a moment, watching imaginary lines connect stars she doesn’t know the names of. She’s not sure if they’re even stars. They could be unnamed celestial bodies reflecting another’s light, or snapshots of existences long forgotten, the last remnants of their brilliance finally reaching this desolate planet at this exact point in time. Eventually, she answers with, “You wouldn’t want to leave anything behind?”

“That’s not it.” Kiana’s hand lowers to rest on Mei’s own. The unfamiliar sensation of another’s warm skin almost stings. “I would be leaving something even more beautiful behind.”

Mei turns to face Kiana and the other girl moves in tandem, her bright and sparkling eyes unable to reflect the quiet darkness of Mei’s own. If Mei stared hard enough, maybe she’d go blind. Maybe this would be the last sight she’d ever see—the unnatural blue of Kiana’s irises seared into her brain like a brand.

“Hey, Mei,” Kiana whispers, grinning like she’s in on a secret, “I’ve figured out where we should drive to.”

“Where to?”

“Let’s go to the ocean. It’s the place closest to the moon, after all.”

Mei furrows her brows. “Wouldn’t the mountains be closer to the moon?”

Kiana lets out a soft giggle and raises a hand to pinch Mei’s cheek. “Of course not, silly. I read somewhere that tides are affected by the moon. So, it naturally makes sense that the moon is closest to where the tides are. And where are tides located?”

“The ocean,” Mei sighs, but the fondness creeping into her voice is difficult to hide. “Okay. We’ll go to the ocean as long as you navigate.”

“I’m an excellent navigator, don’t worry,” Kiana says. “That old visitor’s guide you have has the directions. They’re a bit tough to make out now, but I’ll figure it out.”

Truthfully, Mei can’t remember the last time she’s been to the ocean—or a beach in general, for that matter. She’s certainly seen it before in movies and calendars and television shows, but as for the sensation of wet sand between her toes and the bitter taste of saltwater, all that comes up is a blank. At the very least, she’s certain of her ability to swim.

Kiana pillows her hands beneath her head and gazes at Mei with a sleepy smile framed by soft white hair cascading down her face. Sometimes, Mei finds it hard to believe that Kiana is really here with her and not a figment of her imagination, or an ephemeral angel that appeared to stave off her loneliness until she accepts her lot in life.

The moon isn’t shining as brightly tonight. It feels like it hasn’t been in a long while.

“On the way there, we can try to find swimsuits and surfboards and stuff,” Kiana continues. She lets out a yawn and closes her eyes. “I’m too lazy to go back in the car. Mei, let’s just sleep out here tonight.”

“Okay,” Mei agrees easily. She turns to lay on her back and stares up at the sky. She wonders when the shooting stars will return, if at all. “Good night.”

“Mhm. Good night.”

According to Kiana, it won’t take long for the two of them to arrive at the ocean. The map on the visitor’s guide doesn’t cover much area, but Kiana insists that she knows the way. Mei has faith in her—it’s not as if she knows better.

They go out of their way to thoroughly explore the towns they pass through for more than the usual supplies. Kiana has a list of items she’s declared are necessary for their trip: swimsuits, beach towels, surfboards, sunscreen, folding chairs, umbrellas, the works. Mei attributes Kiana’s sudden insistence on this matter to the article about beachgoing essentials from a magazine they picked up a while back.

“Have you ever been to the beach before, Kiana?” Mei asks as they drive through the streets of a historic-looking town. She keeps her eyes peeled for general stores.

“Nope! Was it obvious?” Kiana replies. She’s writing in her new orange notebook that she has with her all the time now. Mei has no idea what exactly Kiana has written down in there—the other girl is adamant on keeping the contents a secret. “That’s partially why I wanna go so badly. I mean, doesn’t it sound fun?”

“It does,” Mei admits. “To be fair, I’ve never been either.”

Kiana gapes at her. “Wait, for real? But you’ve been, like, everywhere by now!”

“You’d be surprised.”

“This is even more exciting, then! It’ll both be our first time there. Okay, now we really have to make sure we get everything we need to have the perfect beach day.”

“We might be out of luck for this town.” Mei does what she thinks is her third U-turn of the day. She’s certain she’s passed by this exact post office before.

“Then onto the next!” Kiana declares, and they’re off once again.

Over the next few days, they begin to exit the rural countryside and enter a more urban area. Mei can’t remember the last time she’s visited a proper city since everyone vanished. She typically avoids them, finding the tall skyscrapers and maze-like roads suffocating. Despite the power being out for a majority of buildings nowadays, the remnants of pollution still permeate the air, making the nights feel even darker.

Kiana, on the other hand, is palpably excited. From the way she’s leaning her head out of the window with a look of wonder on her face, Mei assumes that she grew up in the country and never got many chances to visit whatever the closest city to her was.

Pointing to a skyscraper that almost touches the clouds, Kiana asks, “Do you think we could climb to the very top of that?”

Mei shakes her head and keeps her eyes on the road. “Unless the elevators are working, not a chance. There’s probably upwards of fifty floors.”

“Darn.” Kiana slouches in her seat. “I bet the view from the roof is awesome.”

“If you want to walk up fifty flights of stairs, I won’t stop you.”

“No no, I’ll pass. Climbing a mountain sounds more fun anyways.”

As Mei stops to fill up gas, Kiana grabs a folding map and a compass from a nearby souvenir store. “I can’t believe you’ve been driving this whole time without a map,” she comments as she gets back in the car.

“I’ve never needed one before,” Mei says. “You can get pretty far by driving in a straight line.”

Kiana points out the fact that there seems to be a music store nearby next to a string of cafés and hobby stores. They’ve been meaning to stock up on new cassette tapes for a while now, so Mei doesn’t hesitate to drive there once the fuel tank is full.

The music store is another of those brand name ones, wedged between a flower shop and an ice cream parlor. While Mei scours the place for where they hide the cassette tapes, Kiana busies herself with “ooh-ing” and “aah-ing” at the arrangement of instruments on display. There’s a poster advertising free guitar lessons that are hosted every Tuesday afternoon.

“Do you know how to play an instrument?” Kiana asks, absentmindedly plucking the strings of an out-of-tune ukulele that was left on the counter by the cash register.

“No, but I’ve thought about learning,” Mei replies. She’s got herself half-buried between a pile of cardboard boxes. “Though I’m not sure where to start.”

“Hmm… maybe there’s a book in here somewhere that can teach you?”

“If I take the time to practice, then who’s going to drive?”

Kiana, who very much does not know how to drive, solemnly says, “I suppose learning can wait for when the time is right.”

Disappointingly, there’s only one box half-filled with cassette tapes. Kiana declares the contents inside to be “good enough,” so they decide to wrap up their short stint in the city there and keep moving.

By the time they reach the city’s perimeter, night has fallen. Dinner consists of dried fruit and rice, which is a blend of flavors that Mei decides to not combine again. Kiana, meanwhile, claims that it’s another addition to the exhaustive list of Mei’s culinary masterpieces.

In the morning, Mei drives for all of five minutes before belatedly realizing that the truck has a flat tire. She immediately shifts into park and brings up two options to Kiana: they could replace the truck entirely—which wouldn’t be hard to do in a city this large—or fix the flat with equipment they currently don’t have. She doubts that a spare tire for a vehicle this old still exists.

“No way we’re replacing this truck,” Kiana says, somewhat offended. “It’s been with us through thick and thin!”

Mei stands up from where she was crouched down to inspect the tire. There’s a nail embedded in the tread. “Why not? I’ve wanted to get a new car for a while, anyways. There’s plenty of options available nearby, so this is the perfect time to do so.”

Kiana vehemently shakes her head. “But this truck is special!”

“It has no air conditioning.”

“Yeah, sure, but as long as the windows are rolled down, it’s fine.”

“It can only play cassettes.”

“We just stocked up on more of those! Plus, I like cassettes.”

Mei sighs. “Are you seriously that attached to this truck?”

“Yes.” Kiana nods, expression grave. “It’s like a child to me.”

Seeing that Kiana has no intention of backing down, Mei ultimately relents. “Alright, fine. We’re still within walking distance, so it shouldn’t take too long to find a hardware store.”

“Woohoo!” Kiana cheers, pumping her fists in the air. She pats the hood of the truck and says, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye, “You’re gonna make it, little one. You’re gonna be okay.”

Mei rolls her eyes with a slight smile and packs her satchel with water and snacks. She doesn’t plan to be away from the truck—and by extension, their supplies—for long, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. Kiana herself grabs an empty backpack she got from who-knows-where. Nowadays, half of the truck bed is filled with various random items Kiana has steadily stockpiled, ranging from useful to (debatably) useless. Mei suspects that this collection of knick-knacks is partially the reason why Kiana stubbornly refuses to replace the truck.

After having spent so much time almost exclusively driving, Mei admits to herself that it’s strange to walk for such a long distance. She’s by no means out of shape, but the semi-unfamiliar act coupled with the heat of the summer sun does her no favors. Kiana, on the other hand, is practically skipping down the side of the road.

The world somehow feels even emptier when traveling on foot. The surroundings are quiet aside from the rhythmic sound of Mei’s and Kiana’s footsteps. There are no animal calls, no passing cars, and no conversations taking place besides their own. Mei swallows down the strange feeling clumped in her throat and focuses on walking past the city’s welcome sign.

“If I had to guess, I bet there’s a hardware store to… the left!” Kiana says with her hands on her hips. She starts walking that direction and waves Mei along without waiting for a reply.

There is, in fact, no hardware store on the street Kiana has chosen to walk down. Or the street she randomly picks next, or the one after that. About an hour has passed, and they have nothing to show for their quest to fix the flat tire.

“It’s never too late to choose from the myriad of available cars around us,” Mei says. She feels a bit peeved, both from this seemingly fruitless endeavor and the scorching sun beating down on her. “We passed by some good-looking trucks. All-terrain ones that can get us pretty far.”

Kiana’s response is a stubborn: “It’s not the same.” Noticing that Mei is beginning to lag behind, Kiana slows down to grab her hand.

“What are you doing?” Mei asks, taken aback. She makes no move to free her hand from Kiana’s clammy grasp.

“Helping you, obviously. Here, here—I’m gonna start running, and when we turn the corner: boom. Hardware as far as the eye can see. Okay, ready?”

“Wait—” Mei starts to protest, but Kiana suddenly takes off like a rocket. Mei is forced to run alongside her, breathless. She almost stumbles. Concrete buildings and towering skyscrapers blur into streaks of gray, making her head spin. When Kiana finally skids to a stop, Mei is doubled over and panting. Their hands are still intertwined. Her heart is pounding. Kiana gives her a water bottle and she downs the entire thing almost instantly.

“You,” Mei gasps as she catches her breath, “are crazy.”

Kiana’s response is a laugh that breaks into a dry coughing fit. She’s smiling in that same way she did after leaping off of the swings back then, giddy and unapologetic. Strands of hair stick to her sweaty face and her eyes are as radiant as ever. “Wasn’t that fun?”

“Not at—not at all.” It’s not a very convincing lie, considering that Mei is actively tamping down a similar smile trying to creep its way onto her face. It’s entirely from the adrenaline rush and nothing else.

“Sorry, sorry. Ah—but look, check it out!” Kiana points to the building before them with her free hand. “Boom. We’ve made it.”

Mei follows the direction of Kiana’s finger, gaze landing upon the fabled hardware store they’ve been searching for. She runs a hand through her hair and says, “You are so lucky.”

“Just my intuition,” Kiana replies, smug. She walks in without hesitation, dragging an exhausted Mei behind her. The power is out and the automatic doors are stuck open as a failsafe. “What do we need, again?”

Mei takes a moment to recall what she learned from skimming the yellowed manual in the glovebox. “A tire plug kit, ideally. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“Then let’s go,” Kiana says, leading the way past the checkout area. The entire front wall of the store is made up of floor-to-ceiling windows that let in more than enough light. There’s a sign with a number on every shelf to denote the aisles, but since neither of them are familiar with the layout, they have to individually walk up and down each one.

Eventually, they find the automotive aisle. There’s a shelf of tire repair tools, so they grab a plug kit and a portable air pump and stuff them into Kiana’s backpack. With the mission ending in a resounding success, they make their way back towards the edge of the city. This time, Kiana doesn’t pull them into a sudden run on account of the valuable items they now carry.

It’s well into the afternoon by the time they find the truck parked in the middle of the road. Kiana sets her backpack down on the tailgate and offers to plug the flat while Mei makes lunch.

“Have you ever done this before?” Mei asks, genuinely curious.

“Okay, admittedly, no—but how hard can it be? With the combined powers of the owner’s manual and this kit’s instruction booklet, I’m confident I can pull it off.” Kiana pats her chest proudly and gives Mei a reassuring thumbs up.

Mei hesitates, but it’s not like she’s fixed a tire before either. “If you’re certain, then be my guest. Best of luck.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Kiana says, saluting to her before crouching down to get to work.

Mei shakes her head, lips curling into a warm smile. She busies herself with setting up the grill and pointedly avoids staring at the determined set to Kiana’s jaw.

By the time Mei has finished making two plates of grilled potatoes and tuna, Kiana has successfully repaired the flat tire. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she triumphantly says, “No replacement needed with me on the case. We’re taking this bad boy all the way to the ocean! Scratch that—around the world!”

Mei laughs and sets the plates down on the tailgate. “You really do love this truck.”

“Of course I do! It’s basically our home, after all.”

Home. The word sounds foreign, almost abstract. Throughout Mei’s long and unending journey across this stagnant world, she never once considered the cars she’s driven in as a home. They’ve always just been a means to an end to her—a bridge between isolation and potential connection. She used to think that, if things ever went back to normal, she’d settle down in a nice cottage somewhere quiet. Far enough to be left to her own devices, but close enough to still be a part of civilization. Daydreaming about “what if” scenarios feels almost silly now. She barely has time for them these days, thanks to a certain travel companion that insists on making every day more interesting than the last.

“Yeah,” she says. “I suppose it is.”

The city is far behind them when Mei notices dark gray clouds gathering at the edge of the horizon. She knows an incoming storm when she sees one, so she makes a quick pit stop to tie down a tarp over the truck bed.

“It looks like it’ll rain soon,” she explains. Reluctantly, she adds, “We can find somewhere to stay and wait it out.”

Truthfully, Mei rarely ever stops for severe weather. If she can drive, she’ll drive. The idea of staying stationary for long periods of time makes her skin crawl. She attributes this feeling to the nomadic lifestyle she’s grown so used to.

“We don’t have to,” Kiana says. She’s looking at Mei with an unreadable expression on her face. Something like pity, something like understanding. “I’m okay with driving through even the worst storm imaginable if you are. Plus, it could be fun.”

Mei twirls a strand of her hair between her fingers, deep in thought. When she was alone, she wouldn’t think twice about hitting the gas during particularly bad weather. However, the possibility of someone else getting hurt because of her reckless habits—especially someone she’s grown to care about—leaves an uncomfortable pit in her stomach that wasn’t there before.

“Fun, huh?” she mutters, staring at the distant clouds. “I don’t mind driving, but…”

“It could be dangerous?” Kiana finishes. Her gaze softens and she takes a step closer. “What’s the worst that could happen? Besides, you’ve got that look on your face. You’re itching to drive, right?”

Mei shoves her hands into her pockets, ears reddening. She hadn’t realized it was so obvious. “Okay,” she says after a moment. There’s an almost palpable relief in her tone, like she finally let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Okay. Let’s keep going, then.”

“We can be, like, storm chasers or something,” Kiana says as they climb back into the car. “You can be the seasoned driver with decades of experience, and I’ll be the up-and-coming cameraman that gets all the good shots.”

“I don’t think it’ll get that bad. There’ll be some thunder and lightning at most.”

Kiana nods sagely, but her upturned lips betray her attempt at seriousness. “And a giant tornado at worst. Don’t worry. If it’s the two of us, we can do anything.”

The storm hits them thirty minutes later. Kiana has her forehead pressed against the window, intently watching the rain fall with what Mei can only assume is a look of wonderment. The truck’s old tires hold up well against the slick road as thunder rumbles in the distance. Kiana has selected a cassette they got from the city that plays smooth jazz, the quality staticky and aged.

After a while, when the wind starts to howl, Mei grips the steering wheel and says, “Hey, Kiana, I’ve been wondering about something—and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to—but I was going to ask: how did you manage? Before we met each other, and after everything became the way it is now.”

Kiana returns to facing the road ahead, watching the window wipers struggle to clear away the pouring rain. “I told you before that I spent my time waiting for change, but I suppose that answer won’t suffice now, huh?”

“I’m only curious,” Mei says. She feels a little embarrassed, trying to pry into Kiana’s past when neither of them have respectively opened up about their own lives. But, she reasons, if they’re going to be traveling together for the indefinite future, then now is as good a time as any to really learn about each other. “I can talk about myself first, if you want.”

“It’s alright. I can—well, hmm… where do I start?” Kiana rests her chin in her hand, deep in thought. Lightning flashes behind them. “Do you know about the life cycle of a star?”

Mei rhythmically taps the steering wheel, matching the beat of the music. “I know that they burst into a supernova when they die. Outside of that, not really.”

“Mm. Where I came from, there wasn’t much of anything to do or feel. It was as if nobody knew what ‘fun’ was, and everyone was content with that void in their hearts.” Kiana closes her eyes in reminiscence. There’s a nostalgic, bittersweet smile on her face, like she ate something sour. “I thought that way of living was totally boring, so I packed up and left.”

“And then you came here?”

“Yeah. But when I arrived, there wasn’t anybody around! I thought I missed the memo or something, since I swear there were people last time I checked. Despite that, I didn’t want to leave because—I mean, isn’t this place super awesome? There are towns everywhere filled with interesting buildings, and the terrain has so much variety, and the weather changes, and there are lots of foods to try, and the horizon never seems to end.”

When Mei glances at Kiana, there’s a gleam in the other girl’s eyes that almost glows against the backdrop of the storm. Something otherworldly, something transient. A stark contrast against the dark, steady irises of Mei’s own. “And then I found you,” Kiana continues, “and you—ah, what can I even say? You’re like everything I’m not. Everything I want to be.”

The excitement in Kiana’s voice leaves a sticky, syrupy feeling in Mei’s chest. She flushes and pointedly keeps her eyes on the road ahead of her. “That’s—a high compliment. I really don’t think I’m… all that.”

There’s an evident grin in Kiana’s voice. “No need to be so humble, Mei. I’m serious, though. You’ve got that determination to always move forward. I ran away from my home because I didn’t belong, but you’re so assured in yourself. You drive because you want to, and not even storms like this one will stop you. You’re considerate too, and good at cooking, and—”

“That’s enough,” Mei interrupts, feeling warm and red all over. It’s disconcerting, to be perceived so thoroughly and genuinely by another person. She’s never thought that highly of herself before, nor found a reason to. The praise makes her skin burn, the fire reaching deep into the marrow of her bones. In an attempt to shift the conversation away from herself, she asks, “And how does this relate to the life of a star?”

“Because I’m gonna live my life as brightly as possible up until the very end,” Kiana says. She nods in a self-assured way, like she has it all figured out—and maybe she does. “I really do love this world. I want to be remembered by it.”

“I don’t think anyone or anything could ever forget you,” Mei whispers, barely audible against the low rumble of thunder. “I wouldn’t worry.”

“What about you?” Kiana asks. When Mei turns to make brief eye contact, Kiana is already staring at her. She might have been for a while now, and she makes no move to look away. Her lips are upturned, eyes crinkled with adoration. She’s as radiant and beautiful as the stars she wants to be, maybe even more so. “It’s your turn now to share your story! I’m super curious. Tell me everything.”

Mei scratches the back of her head with a free hand. “It’s not that interesting, honestly. My father was the head of a corporation, so we lived comfortably. Everyone at school was only interested in the assets I could potentially provide. As a result, I didn’t have any friends growing up. Then the world turned out the way it did, though I don’t exactly remember how. I stayed home at first, hoping everything would fix itself eventually. When nothing changed, I left. Thought I’d maybe find someone else along the way.”

Kiana is nodding along to Mei’s words, an uncharacteristically focused expression on her face. “Mei. You are so cool.”

“Eh—that’s your takeaway?”

“Yes! Going from the rich heiress of a corporation to a renowned world traveler that takes in a complete stranger from the kindness of her own heart? Whoa. Your life is like a movie.”

“I wouldn’t say renowned… and what kind of movies have you watched to make that comparison?”

“That’s irrelevant. I’m just saying you shouldn’t downplay yourself.”

Mei squirms under Kiana’s persistent gaze. “All this praise… is really too much.”

“Nonsense,” Kiana says, “you should be proud. If anything, your life is as star-like as mine.”

“Hm. How so?”

Kiana laughs. “You say you don’t want praise, but then you go and ask me that! Okay, okay, if you insist, I’ll keep going.” She dramatically rubs her chin to seem deep in thought. There’s a flash of lightning that highlights the curve of her jaw and the bridge of her nose. Mei reminds herself to keep her eyes on the road for safety’s sake. “Despite everything you’ve been through, you’re still here, stubbornly burning brightly. I don’t know how long you’ve been alone, but you never gave up, right? Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

“Yeah,” Mei murmurs. She thinks back to the countless nights spent driving alone with only the sun and moon and stars as her companions. The amount of times she had her hopes of making human contact dashed, or when she reached a road block and had to turn back the way she came. It all feels so far away now, the quiet isolation that permeated her existence like a stain.

“I think that, even if everyone was still around, I would still end up finding you,” Kiana says. Her voice softens to something almost melodic against the jazz and the rainfall. “Because it just makes sense that way.”

“We’d have a much better car, though.”

“Nuh uh. Not a chance. It’d be the exact same model and quality and everything.”

Mei huffs out a small laugh. “Then it wouldn’t matter if everyone was here or not, because we’d be together exactly like this—traveling the world in a beat-up truck.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Kiana says, leaning her head against the window. She yawns. “When we get to the ocean, will you teach me how to swim?”

“Of course,” Mei replies easily. “My skills might be rusty, though.”

“That’ll make it more fun. Us against the wild waves with the wind at our backs.”

“How adventurous.”

“Mhm!” Another yawn. “It’ll be fun. Okay, I’m taking a nap. Wake me up when it stops raining.”

Mei chuckles. “Alright. Have a good rest, Kiana.”

Kiana drowsily mutters something along the lines of “you too” before drifting off into what Mei hopes is a peaceful sleep. Thunder steadily rumbles as Mei steals a glance at the silhouette of Kiana leaning on the car door. Her white hair is cushioned beneath her, long and splayed out, the usual ponytail coming undone. She looks like she’d fit perfectly against the backdrop of the night sky.

Mei considers herself lucky, in a way. Anyone could have shown up before her on the road that day, or nobody could have shown up at all. Yet Kiana sits here now beside her, so easily filling in the missing puzzle pieces of the life Mei once thought to have stagnated to nothingness. Her heart skips a beat, or maybe the truck just hit a pothole. Regardless, she grips the steering wheel and slows down the car, if only to preserve this moment for even a little longer.

The storm begins to lull into a light drizzle over the next two days. Bossa nova plays through the truck’s tinny speakers, lightening Kiana’s somewhat dour mood. With the constant rain, finding the time and place to properly cook meals has been difficult—Mei and Kiana have had to subside off packets of jerky and food straight from the can while driving. After eating (in Kiana’s words) luxurious meals for so long, switching to “bland, flavorless mush” has not been a pleasant experience for her.

Kiana is busy writing in her notebook, her tongue sticking out in concentration. Periodically, she chimes in with directions on which way to go. According to her, they’re getting close to the coastal tourist town and will most likely reach it in less than a week.

“But before that,” Kiana had said, when the thunder had quieted yesterday, “we have to find the beach essentials. Swimsuits are a must.”

Now that they’re no longer wandering aimlessly down rural roads littered with potholes, it’s easier to stumble upon cities both large and small. Mei is currently driving through a suburban area now, eyes peeled for shopping centers and department stores. Most of the main roads are populated with abandoned cars that block the way, forcing her to take winding detours.

“Wait wait wait,” Kiana suddenly says, glancing up from her notebook. “Stop the car. Look at that!”

Mei abruptly hits the brakes and turns to see where Kiana is pointing. There’s a quaint little bakery to their right, the kind with wrought iron seating next to the window overlooking the street. Moldy loaves of bread and an assortment of rotting baked goods line the display shelves. If there were still flies around, they would have surely made quick work of the place.

“What is it?” Mei asks, scrunching her nose. The aesthetic decorations are a stark contrast against the sorry state of the once-beautiful pastries. She’s so taken aback by the bakery’s condition that it takes her a second to realize what Kiana is really looking at: the poster on the glass door advertising an annual summertime flea market.

“We’ve got a lead,” Kiana says. She’s suddenly invigorated, as if her earlier gloom had never existed. “There’s bound to be some good secondhand stuff there.”

Mei eyes the poster skeptically. The ink has faded, but she can make out a graphic of a smiling sun wearing sunglasses and an address below it. “Are you sure that this flea market is even still around?”

“Nope! So we should go and check it out.”

A sigh escapes from Mei’s lips, more fond than annoyed. “I don’t see why we can’t wait until we reach that coastal town to find what we need. It’s not like they’d be short of beach gear.”

“It’s about the journey,” is Kiana’s vague answer as she waves Mei off. “Plus, I’ve always wanted to go to an outdoor marketplace.”

“Really?”

“The hustle and bustle of it sounds fun! Ah—well, I guess the essence could remain the same even with just the two of us. Anyways, let’s go! Onwards!”

With Kiana’s insistence, Mei acquiesces and starts the car again, keeping an eye out for the street name listed on the poster. While they drive, the sun’s rays finally break through the overcast clouds, marking the end of the storm.

“Have you ever been to a bakery before?” Kiana asks as Mei maneuvers around stalled cars on an intersection. “Wait, that’s a dumb question. Bakeries are pretty common.”

Mei laughs. “I have. Hm… how about one day, after our ocean adventure, we go to one and I try baking you something?”

“Whoa—really?! Yes, a thousand—no, a million times yes!” Kiana’s excitement is palpable, which causes Mei to laugh even more. Truthfully, she’s never baked anything before, but she’s willing to learn if only to see Kiana’s face light up in the way that makes her bright eyes sparkle.

After a few more minutes of driving, it turns out that Mei didn’t need to memorize the street name at all—before them is a row of numerous tents lined up that would be impossible to miss. There are folding tables set up under each tent and many of them still have miscellaneous items displayed on them. Various handwritten signs are hung around the area, displaying price tags and the occasional store name. For the most part, the makeshift booths are unlabeled—no doubt a byproduct of the townspeoples’ familiarity with each other.

Kiana tears off a page from her notebook and hands it to Mei when they park. Written on it is a checklist of what Kiana has deemed essential to grab for when they’re on the beach.

“We’ll divide and conquer,” Kiana says. She has a ripped-out list of her own with the same items on it. “If we accidentally double up on something, don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine since there’s two of us.”

“Okay,” Mei agrees. It’s a sound plan—the flea market is surprisingly large and half of the tents are densely packed with trinkets and objects of varying shapes and sizes. It would take forever to meticulously comb through each and every one if they explored together.

They agree to meet back at the car around noon. Mei empties out two canvas bags full of road trip souvenirs so they can carry whatever they end up finding while Kiana laments the idea of having to reorganize her stockpile once they’re done.

Unsurprisingly, most of the flea market’s supply has been worn down by the changing seasons, with some of the more delicate items left completely beyond repair. The once carefully curated displays have been thrown into disorganized messes by what could only have been harsh winds and storms. A few of the items that had been unfortunately blown away from the cover of the tents are waterlogged and unusable, such as a large umbrella that would have sufficed for Kiana’s checklist.

While Mei is searching for beach towels, she figures that now is the perfect time to find a gift for Kiana. She’s been meaning to express her gratitude towards the other girl for keeping her company all this time, and to her, there’s no better way than a physical show of appreciation when words fail her. It’ll have to be something small so that it can be kept hidden until a suitable moment to present it, and most importantly something that Kiana would definitely appreciate.

Along the way, Mei finds a set of plastic sandcastle molds buried beneath a pile of action figures. They’re a little childish and not on the checklist, but it’s not like anyone would be around to judge the two of them for playing with toys made for toddlers. So, Mei grabs them without a second thought, a wry smile on her face.

She’s in the middle of stuffing a floppy hat into her bag when she spots a small clay pot out of the corner of her eye. Looking at it closely, it’s miraculously still intact and even has some soil resting at the bottom. There’s a packet of seeds tucked safely under it, the photo on the front featuring black, almost purple pansies. Mei knows, right then and there, that this is exactly what she needs to give to Kiana.

She digs around for some bubble wrap and a suitably-sized cardboard box to store the pot in. Luckily, there’s more than enough space in her bag for her to hide the pot from Kiana’s curious eyes. With her gift safely sequestered away, she moves on to another booth with a satisfied twitch of her lips.

There’s a few racks of used clothes further into the market, ranging from oversized parkas to thin crop tops. Some of them are sunwashed, dirty, and fleabitten, but for the most part the ones under the cover of the tent are in a good enough condition. Though there are a couple of swim trunks here and there of varying sizes, Mei can’t find anything else that can be used as a swimsuit. She grabs two trunks that would probably fit her and Kiana and hopes that she can find something better later on. Mei hesitates for a moment, and, before moving on, takes a few extra shirts and pants for the road.

The sun is nearing its zenith when Mei finds an old outdoor folding chair. There’s a second one next to it that has somehow degraded into only the frame, so she takes the intact chair and heads back to the car with her haul. Kiana is already waiting for her, sitting on the hood of the truck and gazing up at the cloudless sky with an almost wistful expression. She turns as Mei approaches, her lips curving into a smile.

“Find anything good?” she asks, motioning towards her own bag on the ground next to her. It’s filled to the brim—half of the items Mei can see are related to the beach checklist, while the other half looks like stuff Kiana deemed interesting enough to take. Poking out of the bag next to a plastic shovel is a white snake plush, and underneath that is a disposable camera.

Mei sets the folding chair and her bag down before gesturing to its contents. “I managed to find some swim trunks. Did you get anything else for a swimsuit?”

Kiana shakes her head. She hops down and rummages through her bag, pulling out two oversized t-shirts. “Just these. I guess if we pair them with the trunks you have, that should work well enough.”

“Mm, yeah. Oh—and I also got this, which I think you’ll like,” Mei says, holding up the floppy hat. Kiana’s eyes instantly light up and she rushes over to take the hat from Mei’s hands.

“Whoa, awesome!” Kiana puts the hat on and twirls around. It fits her perfectly. “This is so cute! You’re the best, Mei!”

Mei tries and fails to stop herself from blatantly staring at how Kiana is grinning from ear to ear. In her defense, it feels like a monumental task—the other girl looks absolutely mesmerizing with the sun’s rays illuminating her like a spotlight, her white hair falling over her shoulders like soft and fluffy clouds. Blushing, Mei rubs the back of her head and says, “It’s no problem at all.”

“With this, I think we’re finally ready for the beach,” Kiana declares. She moves to place her bag on the truck bed before abruptly stopping. Mei had almost forgotten—on the ground is a pile of Kiana’s road trip souvenirs from when Mei had initially emptied their canvas bags.

Before Mei can say anything, Kiana sets her bag down next to where the portable grill is stored and runs back towards the market, shouting, “Don’t move! I’m gonna grab something to put everything in! And absolutely don’t throw anything away!”

Laughing, Mei obliges, though Kiana is too far away to see. She takes the time to organize the truck bed to make room for everything they have now. Thinking back from before she had met Kiana, it’s amazing to see how much has changed. What had once been only an outdoor cooking set, a paltry amount of nonperishables, and a box of cassette tapes that filled at most half of the bed has turned into a chaotic mess of items not too dissimilar from the flea market they’re at.

She’s got about a fourth of the truck bed in a more presentable state (with the potted plant safely hidden away) when Kiana returns carrying a stack of storage containers. “Ta-da!” she says after placing them down on the ground and wiping sweat from her brow. “Now we’re set to be organized forever.”

Mei glances at the containers and gives a nod of approval. An idea forms in her head, and with a sly grin, she says, “Perfect. Oh, and since you’re the one responsible for most of this mess, how about you clean it up while I make us lunch?”

“Ah…” Kiana gulps, turning her head away to hide her guilty expression. She bashfully kicks at the ground. “O-of course… I’ll get on that right away!”

Satisfied, Mei gets to work on firing up the grill while Kiana organizes their things into the storage containers she brought. It’s oddly domestic in a way Mei isn’t quite used to, but she doesn’t hate the warm feeling taking root in her heart. It makes her forget, if only for a brief moment, the state of the desolate world they live in.

With bellies full of grilled vegetables and a freshly organized stash of supplies, the two of them clamber back into the car and hit the road, the ocean closer than ever before.

Within a few days, the amount of towns they pass by becomes fewer and farther between as they near the coast. Kiana’s growing excitement is infectious, and Mei finds it hard to not be in a good mood as well. Today, they should reach the tourist town by the afternoon. Initially, Mei had planned to stop there and do one last supply restock before they arrive at their destination, but Kiana’s impatience has reached an all time high.

“We should just go straight to the ocean!” she had insisted yesterday, practically bouncing in her seat. “We’re sooooo close, exploring the town can wait until after!”

And Mei, as always, had obliged. “Sure, but it’ll most likely be nightfall when we get to the ocean.”

“That’s fine by me!” Kiana had said. “Maybe the moon will be full so we won’t be bumbling around in the dark.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

With the windows rolled down, it’s easy to catch a whiff of the increasingly salty air blowing past them. The weather is clear and the heat isn’t as unbearable as it was before, leading Kiana to enthusiastically claim that the perfect beach day is practically waiting for them with open arms.

“Last chance for a pit stop,” Mei calls above crackly pop music as the tourist town appears on the horizon. It’s made up of a multitude of colorful buildings—though they look much more vibrant in the pictures on the brochure. Perhaps this was once a lively place full of spirited people that hosted fun events all year long.

“No need,” Kiana says. “Full speed ahead! If we go right through, the ocean will be on the other side.”

Mei chuckles. “Our destination isn’t going anywhere, you know.”

“Yeah, but—” Kiana pauses, trying to find the words. “It has to be tonight.”

Mei steals a glance at Kiana and is surprised to see the determined set of the other girl’s jaw. It looks almost out of place when Mei has been so used to Kiana’s typically carefree personality. “Alright,” she says. “Then hold on tight.”

After confirming that there aren’t any abandoned cars on the road ahead, Mei slams on the gas. Kiana lets out a surprised yelp and clutches her seatbelt, causing Mei to burst into laughter as she goes full speed ahead as requested. It seems that Kiana’s thrill-seeking tendencies have finally influenced Mei for better or worse.

The wind whips through her hair even inside the car, and Mei completely understands now why Kiana wants to chase these highs—there’s truly nothing quite like it. This sensation of being alive, of being so intimately aware of her own pounding heart that it feels like she’s floating. That maybe she, too, can fly. Years of built-up frustrations and suffocating feelings of loneliness have all but vanished, replaced with a desire to keep going forward—not because she feels like she has to in order to survive, but because she wants to. Because it would be fun to.

She’s laughing, and pop music she doesn’t quite like is playing through tinny car speakers that are far older than her, and Kiana is laughing alongside her, and she can practically taste the sea salt in the air. They race by vacant homes and stores with their doors still open invitingly, past empty seafood restaurants and boat repair services. Everything surrounding them is almost a blur of colors, beautiful in a way that Mei would have never noticed had she driven at a leisurely pace.

Then, the town falls behind them, and the horizon opens up to reveal the vast ocean that stretches far beyond anything Mei has ever known. The beach is made up of pristine white sand, and there’s a lighthouse off in the distance that’s perched on craggly rocks. The sun is beginning to dip below the calm waters, painting their view in a stunning palette of warm oranges and soft purples.

“Wow,” Kiana breathes out as Mei slows to a stop at the edge of the beach where there’s still pavement. Mei is equally speechless, and neither of them move for a long while as if they’re in a trance. Then, Kiana turns to Mei with that ever-radiant smile of hers, and says, “Shall we go?”

Mei nods, still slightly dazed. “Mm. Let’s go.”

Thanks to Kiana’s organizational efforts, all of their beach supplies are neatly tucked away in two canvas bags. Kiana grabs a pair of swim trunks and an oversized shirt before going to hide behind a nearby tree to change. Meanwhile, Mei retrieves her gift for Kiana and hides it beneath their towels. She’ll need to find an opportune moment to present it to her.

Once Kiana has finished changing, Mei heads to the same tree to take her turn. The trunks fit well enough, and the oversized shirt is comfortable. She hopes that the saltwater doesn’t ruin it too much—it’d be nice to wear it again if they find a suitable place to wash it. Kiana has her floppy hat and one of her many pairs of sunglasses on when Mei returns.

“I’m looking forward to your swimming lessons,” Kiana says as Mei slings a canvas bag over her shoulder and tucks their single folding chair under her other arm.

“I’ll do my best,” Mei replies earnestly. From where they’re standing, the waves don’t look choppy at all. Teaching basic swimming techniques should be a piece of cake. Probably.

Kiana grins and takes Mei’s hand. The contact is warm and clammy and a little sweaty, but Mei doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. Wordlessly, she interlocks their fingers and steps onto the sand together with Kiana. It’s sun-warmed and more soft than grainy—almost mistakable for snow. She’s glad they decided to leave their shoes behind on the truck bed.

Mei can tell that Kiana is itching to break into a sprint towards the water, but can’t due to the bags weighing them down. The sight of her cheeks puffing up in frustration is unbelievably adorable.

As they walk, Kiana begins to rattle off her plans for the evening. “First, we’ll find a nice spot right in front of the surf to build a sandcastle. Then, we’ll dip our toes into the water and you’ll teach me how to swim. After that, when we’re tired from swimming, we’ll lay out the beach towels and relax on the sand. And then…” She trails off, thinking.

Eyeing the lighthouse in the distance, Mei suggests, “And then we climb the lighthouse to get a good view of everything?”

Kiana nods, pleased. She swings their joined hands back and forth. “Yes! That’ll be a perfect way to end the day.”

With an agenda in mind, the two of them reach a nice spot a little ways before the surf to set down their belongings. Tiny seashells are scattered about, half-buried beneath the sand. With their towels and bags placed and the waves lapping close to their feet, the scene looks almost like a picturesque advertisement in a magazine. Had birds still existed, there would no doubt be the cawing of seagulls in the distance to compliment the image of an idealistic beach setting.

While Mei is admiring the view, Kiana is already crouched down and digging out the plastic toys from their bags. “We’ll build a gigantic sandcastle that’s taller than both of us combined!” she says, handing Mei a bright orange shovel. “It’ll be like something out of a fairytale.”

Mei laughs and takes a seat next to her. “Alright, sure. We’ll make it fit for a princess.”

“Two princesses,” Kiana corrects. She begins packing wet sand together to form the base. Since the molds they own are too small to fit Kiana’s grand visions outside of shaping the parapets, they’ll have to improvise for most of the castle’s design. Mei has never had many opportunities to go to the beach as a child, so most of her knowledge stems from seeing photos of sandcastles either online or in books. At least Kiana is in the same boat as her.

About twenty minutes later, when the castle is starting to take shape, Mei wanders off to find fallen branches that will help reinforce the sand. There’s a pile of washed up driftwood a short distance away from their spot, hidden behind a patch of beachgrass. Without Kiana’s constant chattering to keep her company, the silence surrounding her—save for the occasional lapping of waves—is more noticeable than ever. However, when before it would give Mei an itchy, restless feeling, it now only envelops her like a thin layer of fog. Enough to recognize its presence, but not enough to bother her.

Hm. Maybe she should have grabbed a boombox somewhere to play their cassettes outside of the truck?

“I’m back,” Mei says, arms full of damp and lightweight driftwood. In the time she was gone, Kiana has made some more progress on the ramparts and has begun to dig out a moat. She’s practically covered in sand.

Looking up with a grin, Kiana says, “Welcome back! Check it out. What do you think about having a super awesome moat to protect the castle? We can fill it with seawater and everything.”

Mei props the driftwood up as a skeleton for the towers they’ll eventually build. “If we find some rocks, we can use them to make the moat look even more intimidating.”

Kiana nods vigorously. “Yes! Hehe, this is so much more fun than I was expecting it to be.”

As childish as this activity is, Mei is inclined to agree. There’s a certain joy to be had in planning out the structure of the castle with Kiana, for all its idealistic quirks and impossibilities. After living a nomadic lifestyle for so long, the thought of finally settling down and choosing a home to live in doesn’t seem so terrifyingly permanent anymore.

For the next hour or so, they settle into a steady rhythm of piling and shaping wet chunks of sand. More than half of the sun has dipped below the horizon line, and both Mei and Kiana are covered in sweat, sand, and saltwater. As they talk about everything and nothing, Kiana applies the finishing touches to the towers while Mei uses a toy bucket to fill the moat with water.

Finally, with a sandcastle that reaches Mei’s waist, their work is done. Kiana is sporting a lopsided grin on her face while she admires their work, wiping the sweat from her brows. Mei stands and stretches before saying, “We did pretty good for our first try at this.”

“Absolutely! Ah, I hope the high tide doesn’t ruin our hard work.”

Mei glances towards the water, where the waves recede well before reaching the sandcastle. “It should be fine? But if it washes away, we can come back and build another one.”

“Oh, true!” Kiana says. Satisfied with that compromise, she immediately moves on to the next item on their agenda: swimming. “We gotta hurry before it becomes dark. Let’s go!”

Before Mei can respond, Kiana grabs her hand and all but drags her towards the ocean. The temperature of the seawater is surprisingly lukewarm—a mix between the fading summer sunlight and the growing coolness of night—and the foam is smooth as it washes over her feet. As the two of them move further into the depths where the water reaches their stomachs, Mei begins to recall the times spent at various high end pools in her childhood. She had a top of the line swimming instructor, but it’s been so long since she actually swam that she hopes she can at least teach Kiana how to not drown.

“Alright,” Mei says, keeping a steady grip on Kiana’s forearms. While they’ve stopped at a decent distance away from the shore, their feet are still firmly planted on the sand below them. The expression on Kiana’s face is a comical mix of nervousness and excitement, which eases Mei’s tensions. “We’ll start with the basics. Try kicking your feet out from under you and ‘laying’ on your stomach to float. Don’t worry, I won’t let go.”

Kiana takes a deep breath and does exactly that, but as soon as she’s got the hang of staying afloat without Mei’s assistance, an untimely wave crashes over and completely soaks them.

“Are you okay?” Mei asks once the waters have settled and their feet are back on the sand. She spits out the taste of saltwater but can’t stop her lips from upturning at the sight of how disgusted Kiana looks, the other girl’s tongue sticking out like she ate something sour.

“Gross! Super gross!” Kiana complains before breaking out into a series of giggles. “No wonder nobody drinks this stuff! Haha, hey, Mei—wasn’t I doing great? I think I’m ready for stage two.”

“If you’re certain,” Mei says, chuckling. Damp strands of hair stick to her forehead as she demonstrates to the best of her ability how to breaststroke. “It’s important to keep your head above the water to breathe, but it’s not the end of the world if you don’t. It’s kind of unavoidable here.”

Kiana nods like a diligent student in a classroom, then goes to copy Mei’s movements. Luckily, the waves seem to have calmed down considerably. The rest of the lesson goes by smoothly, and Kiana is a fast learner. Within minutes, she’s already managed to swim without assistance from one point to another. Mei can’t keep the prideful smile off of her face at the sight.

“Great job!” Mei praises when Kiana returns to their spot after having tried out freestyling. “Are you sure you’re not a professional?”

“I simply have a great teacher,” Kiana replies, out of breath. Her eyes are glowing brightly in the way that’s easy to mistake them for the stars yet to arrive with the night, the way that mesmerizes Mei the most. “Pretty soon, I’ll be getting gold medals for the next five years.”

“Your competition will be stiff, you know. The student going against the master, and all that.”

Kiana leans closer to Mei, either of her own volition or as a product of the currents gently pushing them along. “Then I look forward to it. Wanna race? First person back to the shore wins!”

“You’re on,” Mei says, and they’re off. Despite all of Kiana’s boasting, Mei has the upper hand in experience. The race ends before it can really begin, and Mei is already sitting on the shore, letting the waves lap against her ankles, when Kiana arrives.

“Okay, you win this time,” Kiana acquiesces. She flops down next to Mei, uncaring of the sand getting in her hair. “But next time I’ll have my revenge!”

“I’m sure you will,” Mei says, unable to resist the urge to pat Kiana’s head. She glances at the darkening sky, then at the lighthouse in the distance. If they leave now, they’ll probably be able to reach the top before it gets too dark. “Lighthouse time?”

Kiana immediately sits up, all traces of exhaustion vanished. “Ooh, yes yes yes!”

Before they journey onwards, Mei makes a pit stop to grab the bag housing her gift for Kiana, claiming it’s because their flashlights are in there. Kiana slings the other bag over her shoulder while Mei’s at it, reasoning that they may as well take both.

The path to the lighthouse is surprisingly well-paved after all this time. The two of them hadn’t bothered to change out of their saltwater-ridden swimsuits or put on their shoes. In Mei’s defense, Kiana looked like she’d explode if they waited a second longer to get to the lighthouse.

The door is, thankfully, unlocked, and the staircase inside is a straight shot to the lantern room. There’s not much in the way of furniture outside of a stack of plywood and various supplies for maintenance. Kiana groans at how daunting the climb up looks to be, but Mei grabs her hand and commits to the trek before she can back out.

Night has fallen when they reach the catwalk outside of the lantern room. Once their bags are set down, Mei takes a seat in front of the railing and dangles her legs forwards, the sea breeze brushing against her skin. Kiana follows suit, gasping as she takes in the view before her. From the top of the lighthouse, they really can see everything. In front of them lies the endless ocean, and in their periphery are craggly cliffs and the shore’s edges. The sky above is dotted with stars, and it’s so quiet that the distant sound of the waves below can reach all the way to their ears. The full moon shines like a spotlight over the two of them, as if it’s announcing its presence after a long absence.

“Look,” Kiana whispers, interlocking her fingers with Mei. With her free hand, she points above them. “There’s shooting stars.”

Mei follows her gaze. Brilliant streaks of light fly across the sky, reflecting the proof of their existence towards the only ones left who can witness them. The sight is nothing short of breathtaking, and the phenomenon is over almost as soon as it began. An unfamiliar feeling clenches Mei’s heart like a vice grip. She finds herself tightening her hold on Kiana’s hand, afraid the other will let go.

The last time she saw shooting stars, she was someone else entirely. Envious of what she could never have, of places she could never reach. A bird with clipped wings, calling out for people who could never respond. Now, she’s not so sure anymore.

“When I die,” Mei starts, apropos of nothing, “I want to return to the earth. Maybe it won’t be beautiful or memorable, but it’d be familiar. And when the rain comes, maybe a flower will bloom where I last stood.”

Kiana rests her head against Mei’s shoulder, expression hidden beneath her hair. “You really do love this planet, don’t you?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever hated it, even after everything.”

“I like this place too,” Kiana murmurs, rubbing her thumb against Mei’s hand. “I like seeing what everyone left behind. I like that it brought me to you.”

Mei is quiet for a moment. Then, she asks in a voice so small it’s almost inaudible, “Are you not worried I’d disappear one day like the rest of them?”

“Why would I be?” Kiana replies. “You’re right here with me. Honestly, it’d be impossible for me to ever forget you. When I become nothing but stardust, your name will be etched into the traces of my remains.”

“It’ll be a long time before that happens,” Mei decides. “We still have lots of memories to make.”

“Of course. I won’t settle for anything less.”

Silence eventually drapes the two of them like a blanket as they gaze up at the night sky. Remembering the gift she has prepared, Mei suddenly leans over and reaches into the canvas bag.

“What are you doing?” Kiana asks, peeking over Mei’s shoulder.

“I have something for you.” Mei turns around with an inconspicuous cardboard box resting in her hands. “I wanted to thank you for—for everything. For keeping me company, for being willing to go on a journey with a complete stranger, for listening to my clashing opinions on old-timey music. I hope that this will always remind you that you always have a place here. That you once existed on this planet.”

Then, Mei hands the box over to Kiana’s waiting hands, watching carefully for the other girl’s reaction. Kiana’s face is carefully neutral, but traces of expectancy slip through the cracks. She takes the gift without a word and hesitates before opening it, as if she’s afraid of what’s inside.

There’s a small gasp as she removes the pot from the safety of the bubble-wrapped interior, holding onto a packet of pansy seeds with trembling fingers. After a moment to collect herself and take in what she’s received, Kiana looks up at Mei with a soft, small smile. So unlike her usual exaggerated grins, but somehow brighter than ever.

After a moment, Kiana says, “Thank you. Seriously. I—I don’t know what else to say.” She cradles the pot close to her chest. “Can I confess something? When I first arrived, I planned to leave after I did some sightseeing. As interesting as this place is, I don’t know if I could’ve handled being alone again. I thought maybe a far-off star system would have what I was looking for. But then I almost got hit by a car, and I suppose you know how the rest of the story goes.”

“Mm. I was really shocked when I first saw you, you know.” Mei huffs out a quiet laugh. “I thought I was hallucinating.”

“Nope, I’m one hundred percent real,” Kiana assures. “And in time, these seeds will grow into a whole field of pansies, so that you won’t be lonely either when you return to the earth.”

Mei’s lips curl into a smile. “Okay. I look forward to it.”

“Oh, and that reminds me. I have something for you as well.” Kiana carefully sets down the pot and lays the packet of seeds on top of it. “Wait here.”

Then, she disappears behind the other side of the lantern room. Mei can see the outline of her silhouette through the glass, rummaging through the second canvas bag. A few moments later, Kiana returns with her hands behind her back.

“Now it’s my turn to surprise you,” she says, holding out a cardboard box with one hand. In the other is the notebook Mei always sees her writing in. “This is for you! I found it when we were at the flea market and thought it’d suit you perfectly.”

Mei takes the cardboard box and chuckles. It’s surprisingly lightweight for its size. “The flea market, huh? That place really did have everything.” She gingerly opens the box to reveal a handheld telescope, the kind fictional pirates would be seen using.

“Every night, I’d notice you’d always be looking up at the stars, even if you didn’t realize it. You looked kind of like I did when I was homesick, so when I saw a telescope set at the market, I knew I hit the jackpot. With this, the stars will be a lot closer than you think, right?” Kiana looks a bit shy as she sits back down next to Mei, the tips of her ears reddening. “I hope you like it.”

Wordlessly, Mei tests the weight of the telescope in her hand. She then extends it and holds it up against her eye. At first, all she can see when looking through it is a pure white light. It takes her a second to realize that she’s staring right at the moon.

“Thank you, Kiana,” she says, turning back towards the other girl with an unbidden smile and flushed cheeks. “And you’re right. Everything doesn’t look so far away anymore when I use this.”

Kiana nods, pleased. “I knew I made the right choice. And this—” She passes over the notebook with a sheepish grin. “—is a journal of all of my thoughts. About our journey, my plans for the future, and… uh… well, you can just read it and tell me what you think!”

She’s blushing furiously now, piquing Mei’s curiosity. “Oh? Did you write down your deepest, darkest secret in here?”

“S-something like that! Actually, it’d be better if you skip to the part where I wrote about how excited I was for the beach,” Kiana stammers, obviously regretting having handed the notebook over to Mei.

It’s too late now for the poor girl—Mei has already opened the first page. The very first few sentences read: It’s been a while since I left home. I’ve made it to the big blue ball that’s always in the sky and found a way to log all of my thoughts, so I’ll be doing that from now on. By the way, I’ve made a friend. She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life! She’s also the last person left on this planet. Her name is Mei, and I hope we become best friends forever.

“Is this what you wanted me to see?” Mei asks, flipping a few pages forward. Most of the contents describe the interesting sights Kiana has seen, as well as her thoughts on a certain someone who is somehow even more beautiful today than yesterday. There’s even a few doodles here and there of whom Mei can only assume to be herself.

“That’s—uh… yeah. I… really like you, Mei. I just didn’t know how to say it, so I figured I’d let past me do the talking,” Kiana says, looking anywhere but Mei’s general direction. “But I really do want to let you know how I feel. You’re really important to me. This whole road trip we’ve been on, all the amazing meals we’ve shared—everything. I love everything about you.”

Mei, speechless, does nothing but stare at Kiana for what feels like hours. Her vision blurs, and she distantly hears the sound of sniffling.

“Wahh! Don’t cry, don’t cry! Um, uh—I’m sorry!” Kiana panics, brushing her fingers against Mei’s eyes to wipe away the flow of tears. “But I really do mean it! Mei, I… I want to be with you forever. I want to keep going on adventures with you and make lots of fun memories together until we’re nothing but the dirt beneath our feet and the stars in the sky. Do you… want that too?”

In lieu of an answer, Mei leans forward and traps Kiana’s lips with her own, ignoring the taste of salty tears and grains of sand. They kiss like it’s the only thing keeping them afloat, the only two breaths left in the world mingling together until it’s impossible to tell one apart from the other. At some point, Kiana throws her hands around Mei’s neck to press their bodies closer together. They’re covered in sand and saltwater and gross all around, but that doesn’t matter to either of them. All that matters is the presence of the other, and their promise to keep on living together.

When they finally part to breathe, Mei presses her forehead against Kiana’s equally sweaty one. The other girl’s starry eyes are almost glowing, illuminating the flushed red of lips coated in saliva. Kiana seems to have an innate talent for making Mei feel so, so alive.

“I love everything about you, too,” Mei huffs out. She sounds like she’s had the wind knocked out of her.

Kiana grins and kisses the tip of Mei’s nose. “Forever and ever?”

“Naturally.”

“Hehe. Awesome.” And Kiana presses her lips against Mei’s again, pansies and telescope and notebook forgotten.

Later, when they’re too exhausted to do anything more but lean against the railings of the catwalk and stargaze, Mei asks, “What now?”

“Who knows?” Kiana wraps her arm around Mei’s, tucking her chin on her shoulder. “We can go anywhere. We can learn how to sail and travel to places we’ve never been. We can live in a mansion, or build an even bigger one. We can climb a mountain, then go on a picnic in a field of flowers. We can do anything.”

She nuzzles Mei’s cheek. “And I want to do it all with you.”

“Then let’s do it,” Mei says. “Everything we want to do, we’ll do it together. As soon as we get a better car, of course.”

“What? No way!”

It’s almost routine at this point, the way the two of them burst into a bout of shared, uncontrollable laughter. Eventually, once they’ve settled down, they succumb to the exhaustion from the long day that has slowly been claiming them. Blanketed beneath the stars and tightly holding onto each other, the night passes by peacefully as they dream of the future that awaits them both.