Two days until the world ends.
As usual, there was no sign of Argon coming back. It made me wonder if Xenon's family had already decided he was the one they could leave behind. The thought made my chest ache. It worked in my favor, sure, but it was still messed up.
I played a song on my phone—one I'd already listened to so many times I could hum every beat in my sleep—and set it on repeat.
Since I'd stopped paying for data, the screen proudly declared No Signal. Didn't matter since I already downloaded my music. The apocalypse could take the satellites but it wasn't taking my playlist.
"What's up with that song?" Xenon asked.
"What, you've never heard this?" I said, plopping down beside him on the sofa. "It was being advertised everywhere."
"I know," he said plainly. "I just don't like it."
Of course he didn't.
I asked him what kind of music he did like, and he rattled off a list of artists and genres I'd never heard of. Then he started explaining how some famous critic rated them, how the compositions were structured, how meaningful the lyrics were. He spoke so earnestly, eyes lighting up just a little, that I found myself staring instead of listening.
"…You're not even listening, are you?" he said, pausing.
"Xenon," I blurted out suddenly, before my brain could stop my mouth, "let's do it. The world's ending soon, you know."
"No," he said immediately.
The room felt quieter after that.
He'd been avoiding me today too. I'd confessed yesterday—really confessed, no jokes, no teasing—and he still hadn't given me an answer. The waiting gnawed at me more than the countdown ever could.
"Just think about it," I said, softer now. "You'd be better off experiencing things before the world ends. It's a great deal."
He finally turned to look at me. "You keep saying it like it's a bargain sale."
"…Is it not?" I tried to joke, but it came out weaker than I wanted.
He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Sera. I said no."
"I mean, it'd be better having tried it than never doing it, right?" I asked, still clinging to that thin strand of hope.
"It's not that simple," he said quietly.
"Xenon…" I whispered, gently ruffling his hair. My hand slid to the nape of his neck. I leaned in, searching his face. "You've got nothing to lose from sleeping with me."
He stiffened. "Won't I lose my virginity, though?"
I smiled, trying to lighten the weight of it. "Most men are proud they lost their virginity. At least you'd have something to brag about to your friends."
He glared at me like I'd just insulted his ancestors. "Why don't you just masturbate if you're feeling hot?"
I pouted, dramatically wounded. But underneath it, my chest ached. I didn't just want relief—I wanted connection. I wanted to know what it felt like to make love, to choose someone and be chosen back. If the world weren't ending, I wouldn't be rushing him like this. I'd wait. I'd take it slow.
"Don't worry," I said more softly. "It'll only feel good. There's nothing to be scared of. Same as kissing, right?"
He didn't answer. He didn't pull away either.
If we had more time, maybe we could've gone out together. Walked somewhere pointless. Shared food. Watched the sky darken without counting the hours. Maybe even called it a date.
But two days—that's all we had.
I wanted him. Not out of desperation, not out of fear, but because it was him. Because even if the world went to pieces—no, especially because it would—I knew this feeling wouldn't disappear.
"We won't do—"
I cut him off before he could finish. "Xenon," I whispered into his ear, my voice trembling despite myself. Then I kissed him, gently. "I love you. I really do."
"…Says the one who loved my brother," he shot back, his gaze suddenly becoming sharp.
"That's all in the past," I said, trying to lighten it, pinching his cheeks softly.
He caught my hands before I could pull away. His grip was firm. "You loved him so much that you want to kill him," Xenon said quietly, his voice low and rough in a way that sent shivers straight through me.
"Not anymore," I said honestly. "Whatever love I had died the moment I caught him cheating. After that, all I wanted was revenge."
The moment the words left my mouth, something in him snapped—not violently, but decisively. Xenon closed the distance between us in a single step, his hands gripping my waist as he pulled me into him.
Then he kissed me.
It was hungry, intense, as if he'd been holding himself back for far too long. I froze in shock—this was the first time he'd taken the initiative, the first time he'd stopped running.
His lips were soft yet demanding, like he was afraid I'd disappear if he didn't hold on. When he realized I wasn't responding, he bit my lip just enough to make me gasp. Before I could think, he seized the moment, his tongue slipping into my mouth, deepening the kiss.
My breath hitched. My hands instinctively clutched his shirt, heart racing as realization washed over me.
My arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him impossibly close, feeling the warmth of him press against me. His hands roamed over my body with a careful urgency, each touch sending jolts of electricity through every nerve ending. He lifted me effortlessly, our lips never parting from each other, and laid me down on his bed with a gentleness that belied the heat of the moment.
The moment he entered me, a sob caught in my throat, muffled against his lips, and a tear escaped, sliding down my cheek.
Xenon froze for a heartbeat, his eyes locking onto mine, searching, concerned, confused. "Wait don't tell me.... Are you a virgin?" he blurted, panic flickering in his gaze.
He was about to pull away, but I clutched him tightly, burying my face in his shoulder. "This is exactly why I didn't tell you," I whispered, my voice trembling.
He kissed me again, slower this time, his hands cradling me. "I'll be gentle," he murmured, and every word carried the weight of his sincerity.
He started slowly, careful, letting me adjust to every movement, giving me the time to match him, to find the rhythm between us.
I bit into his neck softly, letting the tension release in shivers that traveled from my scalp down to my toes. Then, almost imperceptibly, he began to move faster, a controlled, yet insistent pace that made my body arch instinctively.
My breath hitched, chest rising and falling unevenly as waves of sensation coursed through me. Every brush of his skin against mine, every shared breath, every subtle shift in his weight sent sparks through my body, making it impossible to think about anything but him. I could feel him in every inch of me, his presence undeniable, overwhelming, and yet grounding.
I cried out his name, voice trembling, body convulsing as the first waves of pleasure rolled over me. He responded instantly, his own body tensing, movements slightly stuttering as he reached his climax. I felt him shudder against me, the warmth of him spilling into me, and the sound of his breath, ragged and deep, mingled with mine.
We collapsed together, tangled in sheets, limbs intertwined.
My cheek pressed against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of it with each ragged breath, heart pounding in sync with his. The room was quiet except for our breaths.
I felt my eyes fluttering closed, exhaustion weighing me down like lead, but before I could drift off, Xenon moved on top of me, blocking out the dim light of the room and the soft hum of the city beyond the window.
"What are you—" I started, voice half-lost in a yawn, but he silenced me with a low rumble.
"This is your punishment for not telling me you were a virgin," he said, voice thick with amusement and something darker, something more possessive that made my pulse skip.
"But I'm tired—" I tried to protest, weakly, sleep pulling at the edges of my consciousness.
I didn't get to finish. The moment he pushed inside me again, a startled moan escaped my lips, caught between fatigue and pleasure. Every movement sent shivers through me, waves of warmth and tension crashing over me in dizzying succession.
He pressed closer, chest to chest, forehead to forehead, his breath hot against mine. "No sleeping until I say so," he whispered, though the words were almost drowned out by the frantic rhythm of his movements.
I gasped, fingers tangling in the sheets and then in his hair, pulling him just a little closer, needing more of him despite the exhaustion clawing at my body. Each thrust made my muscles tremble, heart hammering, breath hitching in uneven bursts.
He leaned down, brushing my hair back from my face, lips ghosting over mine in quick, hungry kisses between each movement. My body convulsed, and I clung to him instinctively, every nerve ending igniting with his touch.
"You feel so good," he murmured against my lips, voice low and rough, almost reverent in its intensity.
I could only moan in response, lost between the pull of sleep and the sharp, consuming pleasure he elicited with every movement, every touch, every heated glance. My eyelids fluttered, unable to close fully, as the sensations—slow and deliberate, then fast and desperate—swept over me, leaving me trembling beneath him.