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Flux finds Thomas waiting in his pick up truck on the outskirts of town when the apocalypse begins, right next to the ostentatious ‘Welcome to Luminara!’ sign with the faded sun decal they used to make fun.
He tries not to dwell on the fact that this will be the last time he will ever see that sign.
Flux slides himself into the passenger’s seat next to Thomas, throwing his feet on the dashboard, popping open his beer with a satisfying fizzle. It’s peaceful, where Thomas and Flux sit alone on the edge of a world collapsing around them.
Somewhere in the distance, another star dislodges itself from black velvet skies like a sequin from a dress, and hurtles down to earth, landing just out of view. It’s hard to feel shocked when they’ve seen this coming for the better part of several months. Scientists issued warnings on morning news in nauseating repetition, doomsday preppers sang in pyrrhic vindication, toilet paper and bottled water were picked clean from every grocery store shelf - the works.
Flux figures it’s happened countless times after all, between ice ages and volcanic eruptions and planetary collision, it just so happens to be their turn of it, and the sky is tearing itself open. The world is ending. Of course it is. So laughably out of his understanding and control that he can’t even fathom the reality of it all.
All that’s left for Thomas and Flux to do is watch it unfold.
“Jesus, this is just pitiful, isn’t it?” Flux says dryly. His nails drum against the aluminum can, tapping out a tune he’d heard from some doomsday prepper - something about singing during dark times. A little on the nose, but thematically appropriate.
Several hundred meters from them, another star craters into the earth, the impact’s shockwave blowing their hair straight back in a burst of blinding white light, and jostling Thomas’ pick up truck. Yet, they both find themselves doubled over laughing, as if the heat from it hadn’t just singed Flux’s hair.
“Yeah, no kidding,” Thomas breathes, tapping cigarette ash out his window as smoke curls hot and viscous from gritted teeth. Flux studies the plane of Thomas’ face like it's the last time he’ll ever see it. Maybe this is, and he just doesn’t know it yet; he doesn’t want to risk not cataloguing how pretty Thomas looks with shimmering cosmic light bathing him. “I mean, it’s almost pretty, if you look past the whole end-of-times part.”
Thomas tilts his head and narrows his eyes at the sizzling crater sparking with stardust, trying and failing to negotiate with himself that there’s something gorgeous about any of this. The air smells burnt, ozonic in the June heat. There are no crickets, no birds chirping, no moon above. A perfectly empty night for the world to end on.
Flux snorts. “It’s so fucking boring, though. You’d think the end times would have, like, a little more chutzpah to it.”
Thomas chortles. “Chutzpah? Are you serious? Flux, what are you - fifty?”
“Shut up,” Flux drawls, hiding the flush painting his cheeks behind another sip of his beer. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I get it. No fanfare, no gods descending and delivering us to heaven or whatever.” They see car headlights approaching on the dirt road leading out of town, a family with boxes overflowing out of a half open trunk, a child around six scream-singing to something on their stereo. The Luminara they know is evaporating before their very eyes. “Just real fucking noisy.”
Somewhere in that time, Thomas threads his fingers around Flux’s wrists, their hands interlocking so perfectly it makes Flux a little dizzy. Palm to palm, shockingly warm and familiar, for all the eternity they have left. Absent-mindedly, Flux brushes his thumb along the back of Thomas’ hand, tries to memorize all the lines on his palm by touch alone.
“I can’t even imagine what’s going to happen now.” Thomas shakes his head, holding the cigarette out for Flux, who accepts it delicately as he tries to maintain Thomas’ shoddy assembly. They’re ostensibly one foot in the grave, and Thomas still can’t roll a decent cigarette.
Flux isn’t much of a smoker, but he inhales so deeply he starts coughing either way, to which Thomas toothlessly teases him while patting his back. Now is as good a time as any to try, he reasons. For the first time in their short, short lives, there's no contingency plans, no expectations - there's no other option but to sit in the present, for however long they still have it.
“You’re way too checked out for someone watching the literal fucking stars crashlanding into people’s houses, Thomas.”
“Well, I am scared, if that’s what you wanted to hear, Flux. You think I’m making it to heaven?”
A beat, and Flux sighs heavily, an uncharacteristic resignation. “Crap, I’m not making it past Saint Peter and those stupid fucking pearly gates.”
“God’s gonna hold rigging high school student council elections against us? Shit, if I knew that I wouldn’t have gone along with you back then.” Thomas tosses the filter out his open window in one fell swoop, because nothing really matters anymore, really, maybe. “I should kick you out of my truck right now for sabotaging my shot at heaven,” he laughs.
“But you’re glad because now you can make out with me in hell, is what you meant to say.”
This earns an eyeroll from Thomas. “Nuh-uh. You’re not turning me into a corny romantic even if it is the end times.”
“Just a regular romantic then?” Flux asks, tightening his grip on Thomas’ hand for good measure.
Thomas grins, and places a chaste kiss on the back of Flux’s hand. Warmth uncurls, soft and pink, all the way down to Flux’s toes, radiant and sweet in a way only Thomas could manage to make him feel. This is the first thing that has made Flux's heartbeat spike all night. “I’ll play along with your obvious bait just this once. Only because the world is ending.”
Flux’s cheeks hurt from smiling. It’s ok, he thinks. He could die happy like this, if it were just him and Thomas. They’d have fun in these dying embers of the world they once loved, make the most of it, go out like a supernova and have zero regrets when they do. Somehow, Flux has never felt braver in his life than he does right now with Thomas. He doesn’t need the stars in the sky when he can map out the constellations in Thomas’ freckles all the same.
It’s all over. It’s just begun.
“We should probably get going. I wanna hit up that diner with the weird whale theme going on before we die,” Flux suggests, flipping through the extensive CD collection Thomas has deemed necessary to bring with him into the apocalypse.
They’re running out of time, the realization comes as dim as the slowly emptying night sky. The darkness is at their feet. They hold onto each other like the world is in their hands. In a way, this is true; all that’s left of it, at the very least. Flux wonders what's waiting for them as the world slowly crumbles, but at least he'll see it with Thomas. It counts for more than he thought it would. Somewhere in the distance, sirens and shrill screams reverberate. Something to get used to, for the time being.
Thomas sighs, long and tired. “We had a good run.” Another, and another star streaks down from above, highlighting all the caramel tones in Thomas’ eyes with starbursts. “How long do we even have left, do you think?”
Flux looks up at the pitch black sky. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
Thomas smiles, keys in the ignition turning as his truck rumbles to life. “I guess we will.”