Wasted Hours (Before We Knew

It was a strange feeling, knowing that the world was going to end. Strange counting down to the exact date when everything you know would cease to exist, strange knowing that all you could do was sit there and watch it happen. There weren’t many days left now, each one gradually crossed out. The calendar felt heavy with the weight of its wasted days. Everything was so hot. And bright. Little could be done to darken the sky outside. All anyone had left was not enough time. The days felt too long and too short. Alex wasn’t sure if he wanted more or less of them. What to do with all this time? So he sat. And he moped. And he wasted more days until there were hardly any left. Too many wasted days. And what was there to do? Everyone had been advised long ago not to go outside. All he could do was sit and wait and watch the world burn. Daniel hated seeing Alex like this. Even before all of this was happening, he hated seeing Alex sit around and mope out of pure helplessness. Of course, that’s what they were. That’s all that everyone left was. No one was coming to save them. There was no salvation, no rescue — there were no miracles. Before all this happened, Daniel would stand in the doorway and muse at Alex as he got lost in the streets below, peering at the world moving from their bedroom window. Now, the orange in the sky only grew brighter with each passing day. Not a soul in the world touched those streets anymore. No one rushed to their cars because they were running late for work. No one walked their dogs on early mornings before the sun rose and burned the white sidewalks. Daniel moved from his usual spot in the doorway and sat next to Alex on their bed. The air was thick and heavy all around them. They sat quietly for a while; neither could tell how long. The earth still turned and the sun still set, allowing them a few hours of peaceful night before returning to the burning light. All they had were candles to lessen the darkness. Alex remembered the candles, the ones that sat on the rim of the bathtub for when he had a long day, the ones that sat on the nightstand in the bedroom for anniversary celebrations, the ones that sat on the coffee table in the living room for when they just wanted something a little softer than their normal lights. The different scents mixed together into an overwhelming

wave of memories that washed over them. Toasted marshmallow and apple cinnamon and pine forest and everything else that had come to smell like home. They lit a few candles in the living room and ate dinner out of cans. The only sound was their spoons scraping against the ribbed insides of the metal. Their throats were dry when they went to sleep, curtains drawn closed and covers thrown to the edge of the bed. There weren’t even crickets to sing them to sleep.

— Daniel woke up hot and sticky, the sheets clinging to his skin. Today was the last day. Deep down, Daniel still hoped for a way out; Alex hoped it wouldn’t hurt. Daniel rolled over and shook Alex’s shoulder lightly. Alex arched his back off the bed, yawning as he stretched. He looked at Daniel and blinked a few times. Daniel stretched himself over and placed a small kiss on the corner of Alex’s lips, feeling them curve under his own. They both knew this was the end, but for now, they would pretend. Just for these few early-morning moments, where everything still felt hazy and dreamlike, they prayed for the world to let them pretend it wasn’t all over soon. For once, the sheets didn’t feel like fire on their backs. They lay still for a moment, letting themselves just soak in each other’s comfort. Today was something they’d agreed on longer ago than either really wanted to remember. The remembering hurt, but this mattered more than the ache. Alex stood from the bed and walked to their closet; Daniel sat up and followed with his eyes as Alex moved. He sat back down at the foot of the bed with a large cardboard box at his feet. Daniel moved down, sitting next to Alex. Inside were a dozen different photo albums of various sizes, some more lived-in than others. Other photographs were strewn around in the box. This was everything they ever were, all manageably contained in a box full of photographs. It was strange to see their younger selves mixed around with their older selves, as if the two were able to coexist for even one instant in the universe. Alex felt heavy knowing that he’d never see their wrinkly grays mixed in. Looking through the box, he felt cheated. Of all the time they’d already had together, they couldn’t have just a little bit more? They couldn’t have the old and grey, too? Daniel would’ve said it was selfish to say those kinds of things — that he should think about all the people who will never get a

chance to come close to what they had, or the people being cut so much shorter than they were — so Alex didn’t say them at all. He figured Daniel was right anyway; he always was. Besides, he wasn’t going to start that fiight. Not today. Not anymore. Now sitting with the boxes strewn before them, Daniel wasn’t sure looking through their old life was the best idea. He looked at their old pictures, their old smiles and their old friends and their old days, and his throat felt tight. There were so many more days they could’ve had, and now they were gone. Wasted like all the days that will never be crossed off the calendar. Daniel clenched his jaw. He wasn’t going to admit to Alex that he was right. But maybe now’s not the time to be leaving things unsaid. “I get it now,” Daniel spoke softly. “Get what?” Alex asked. “Being angry.” Even now, Alex knew. He pulled the photographs in Daniel’s hands away, putting them into the box before wrapping his arms tightly around Daniel’s shoulders, which heaved under Alex’s touch, his arms tightly around Alex’s waist. He sobbed and thought about all of those days he would never be able to remember again. Everything was still too hot. Both mumbled an apology into the other’s ears for making each other feel this way. “Can we go sit in the living room?” Daniel asked quietly. “We can go wherever you want.” Alex stood from the bed and carefully tugged Daniel behind him into the living room. They sat quietly together on the couch, staring into the matte black of the television screen. Even in this unbearable heat, they couldn’t resist to touch. Shoulders leaned into each other, knees bumped in quiet reminders, toes tapping over each other’s like the little game they used to play at restaurants. They lay together on the couch, skin uncomfortably hot between them but both too scared for it to matter. The sky grew darker behind the curtains. Dinner was just the same as it had been since the beginning of the end. Alex hated the sound of their spoons scraping inside the cans. There was practically no time at all now. Daniel walked their empty cans into the kitchen and threw them in the garbage, piled in with the rest of the empty cans from the end of the world.

“Do you want the candles in the bedroom?” Daniel asked quietly, nodding toward the set of two on the coffee table. Alex nodded and picked up the candles as Daniel went into the kitchen, pulling the matchbox out of a drawer. The box was empty, panic flashing across his face as he dug through the drawer for loose matches. He finally found one, stuck in the edges of the drawer. The very last match. He followed Alex into their bedroom. Alex sat the candles down on his bedside table and took the match, striking it on the wooden surface before lighting them. Daniel held out the other set that resided on his own bedside table to Alex for him to light. The match flickered out as the last candle was lit. Alex lay down slowly on the bed, as if so not to disturb the silence occupying the room. He perched himself up on his elbows and looked up at Daniel with his tired eyes. Daniel lay down next to him, holding his arms open. Alex filled in the gap they made over Daniel’s chest, listening to Daniel’s heart pressed against his ear. Their chests rose and fell as they reveled in this calmness, this stillness of the world. “So this is the way the world ends,” Alex mumbled into Daniel’s chest. “Really hot?” Daniel smirked. He felt Alex chuckle against him. They needed this. Needed the laughter and the smiles and what was left of the good that would be lost in the fire. “Absolutely scorching,” Alex smiled. “I guess that’s my fault.” “Oh shut up,” Alex lifted his head from Daniel’s chest and gave him that same silly I-can’t-be-mad-at-you grin they both missed more than they ever realized. “You didn’t deny it,” Daniel beamed. “I’ve never been one to deny the truth,” Alex grinned, resting his hands under his chin and laying back down against Daniel’s chest. They laughed with each other, falling back into their old flirtatious habits that had been abandoned too long ago. Silence consumed them quickly, the only sound returning to their synchronized breaths. It was easier to think about the breathing than anything else. “Daniel,” Alex began, his soft voice reverberating in Daniel’s rib cage, “do you think we wasted too much time?” His voice sounded like it hurt, and it did. The answers weighed heavy in Daniel’s throat. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

He took a deep breath, raising Alex’s head as it rested on his chest, before he spoke. “I don’t think anything’s wasted, as long as it’s with you.” “But we could’ve had so much more,” Alex turned his head to look up at Daniel. “Could’ve said so much more, been so much more.” “I think we were just enough.” “I can’t believe we wasted so much time just waiting for each other.” “I don’t think we should spend this time worrying about all the time we don’t have anymore.” The room fell silent once again. Alex raised his head from Daniel’s chest and shifted into his usual side of the bed, laying on his shoulder. Daniel shifted closer, placing a hand softly against Alex’s cheek. Alex moved a hand over Daniel’s waist. “Is there… is there anything you never said to me?” Alex asked hesitantly. Daniel thought for a few moments, eyes darting all over Alex’s red face like they were looking for things to say. “I always thought you looked really good in the color pink,” Daniel blushed. Alex rolled his eyes and smiled: “Oh that doesn’t count!” “Yes it does!” Daniel said. The two laughed for a moment before being consumed by another silence. Daniel closed his eyes, turning onto his back. “In all the time we’ve spent together, I don’t think there’s a single word I haven’t said to y- really, Alex?” he looked over and laughed, noticing the quiet sniffles coming from Alex’s side of the bed. “That was hardly even one sentence! What did you expect me to say?” Daniel asked, smiling sadly. “Don’t make me cry, too.” Alex’s voice bubbled and cracked as he spoke: “Sometimes, I feel like I’ve known you my entire life. Before we ever even knew each other. I feel like we existed here just to have each other.” “Maybe we did,” Daniel replied quietly. Daniel rolled back onto his shoulder, moving his hand back to Alex’s tearstreaked face. He rubbed his thumb over the apple of Alex’s cheek, dragging the tear tracks across his skin with it. “Would you change any of it?” Alex said quietly. Daniel grinned, his own tears catching in the curve of his lip. “Not a single second.” “Not even the bad stuff?” “Not even the bad stuff.”

The two looked at each other in silence for a few minutes, sniffling and giggling at themselves; they couldn’t help but feel silly for just staring at each other while they cried, even now. “Daniel?” Alex whispered. “Alex?” “I’m scared.” “That’s okay, I’m here,” Daniel grinned, pulling Alex closer so that their chests were together, their heartbeats pounding against the other’s. The tips of their noses brushed together. They shared one last whisper of “I love you” and one last kiss goodnight. If they dreamt that night, they would never get to tell each other about the crazy dreams they had, or the bad ones, or the nice ones. What a waste of all of those dreams. Neither of them moved from where they lay, keeping their noses pressed together, legs tangled into each other’s, warm hands on warmer skin, their soft breathing the only sound.