She forgot how and when she fell asleep, but she did as if her body is telling her that she needed the rest. Her limbs felt heavy and she realized that the cat earlier had decided to take refuge in her legs. Looking outside the window after stretching her arms for a bit, she sees the sky slowly being filled with hues of pinks and violets, bleeding into the darker shades of black and blue.
Like a canvas being painted, and it may seem like an array of hope for someone else who sees it, but it's been long past for her.
Seeing the sunrise is more of a signal to start again, a chore to do, not to idle but to move in whatever direction. Even a piece of butter candy she used to enjoy having ended up being nothing more than a source of energy, something to fill her rumbling stomach to avoid dropping dead while walking along the empty streets.
The next thing she notices is him being already awake, and this time holding what seemed to be a thin notebook covered with personalized pieces of scrapbook materials. Though placed haphazardly, it still seemed to look artistic enough that it reminded her of the paintings in the room above.
Perhaps it's owned by the same person.
When he notices her looking, he ended up tearing more then moved closer and ended up plopping himself beside the sofa where she's been resting, looking like a little kid who had just found a treasure.
"I just found this diary an hour ago, or so I believe. It's just… it's so interesting and sad at the same time, for some reason. I wonder if it's the same person who made those drawings, I mean, there are some doodles here after all."
She remained silent, just like any other day, but her body is facing his direction now, the cat who was about to snuggle closer had already ran away into the kitchen, and it looked like she was ready to listen despite not saying a thing.
"Have you ever had a diary? I had one before, I think, but I've lost it for some reason, I don't really remember it well now."
Silence.
"Maybe I should write one now. Isn't that a good idea?"
---
They were children when they've first met, and their definition of relationship is no more than exchanging toys and hanging out during summer. Like how one would expect children to act. Before they knew it, they have already let go of the miniature robots for video games to take over leading to sleepless nights and scoldings from their mothers, until it was of them spending more time outside of home for activities and projects. Because that's what the world has told them to do.
Growing up passed by like a breeze, and they've never been that dependent towards each other, nor been expectant of anything else. They remained to be two youngsters who happened to live on houses opposite of each other, and whose families ended up as close friends. Days have been busier, and they might have spent less time seeing each other, but they do know they could always have someone they can turn back to.
Their existence to each other is just like a home, though neither would voice it out.
They did spend more time outside, away from each other and with their own new circle of friends, they wonder if the other even remember the last time they bonded, that, when they attended a housewarming party of the younger one's sister who had recently got married, all they can give each other were awkward stares and small hellos. They should not be conscious of each other's presence, but they do. They have even seen each other during the sister's wedding though not for long as the older needed to go right after the ceremony itself due to an emergency that they were not able to talk properly as they would have wanted for the reception and remembering it made each other felt more awkward. They're already grown adults, yet they acted like shy teenagers.
That night they ended up spending hours together drinking in the older one's apartment, laughing at their silliness for not acting normally, sitting close, just like when they were younger, yet for some reason it felt, warmer, more homely. And somehow their hands ended up intertwined, giggles filling the room that is not even grand, but it felt just right. It felt like their own little world.
A month passed by without talking about that night, but somehow they ended up spending more time together, finding ways to do so despite the difference in their schedules, looking forward to holding hands under the table while eating outside, sneaking for a kiss or two when no one's looking.
They're each other's home. They know how important is one's presence to other.
They just have not talked about whatever it really is.
He was looking outside through the glass window of the bus, with the older one's head leaning towards his shoulder, heat radiating from the fevered forehead. They were supposed to spend the night together, spending his birthday just like how they did every year, but today's an exception. His friend's wellness is his priority. It's not like they don't have any other day to spend it together if they really want to, though a celebration one would consider as late and not as impactful as it would have been.
The bus stops on the next block and a few strangers come up, adding a bit of volume to the almost empty space, not unusual despite it being almost midnight. A few minutes to go and his birthday will pass, and he hears a soft whisper from his friend, not looking at him but leaning closer.
"Happy birthday. I'm sorry for being like this today."
He just ends up smiling, and some might have looked at them weirdly, two young men seated closely without any space between them, but who cares, it's his day and the only thing that can ruin it for him is if he lets the thought consume him on this specific day.
--
Then it was total darkness, and then light once again. As if the world blinked at them for a minute or two, and when he looked around people were frozen, crumbling, or rotting. Like statues left in the wilderness until they became too weathered to maintain their form.
And then red spilled all over, from their eyes, the mouths now gasping for air, voices muffled and screeching. Until it ended up with him hearing nothing but a high-pitched scream, from the person beside him, who's eyes seem to look for something while the body's not moving at all.
"Allen?"
Despite being called the other did not react at all, and as his own eyes looked to the front, he gripped into his seat as he sees the driver convulsing, his foot stuck in place as he felt the bus moving faster without any sign of stopping soon.
And he felt his head throb, his mouth drying, and before he could utter another word, he felt his body being thrown and hitting the floor as the bus hits a wall. He tried reaching out to the other, but he doesn't have enough strength to do so.
The last thing he sees before he loses consciousness is a pool of blood in front of his face and black spots dancing in his sight.
Then its darkness all over again.