Selfish Appetite [5 Seconds of Summer]

[9]

"The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you have to put up with the rain."

- -

Sloan

Ever since my parents died, I've spent a lot of time thinking about death.

It's not constantly on my mind anymore, but sometimes the thoughts creep in. Why do people fear it? Can we ever know for certain if something exists beyond this life? And if not, does it even matter?

What happens to the body after you die?

Is death an end, or is it a beginning?

I've come to believe that people aren't necessarily scared of death itself.

We live surrounded by it. It's the only guarantee we have, the one thing we all share. No one can claim to be truly surprised when they realize it will come for them too.

What unsettles people isn't the inevitability—it's how it might happen. The idea that it could be painful, drawn-out. That it could reduce everything they built to nothing.

That they might be alone when it happens.

We don't like the unknown. We don't like walking in the dark. Maybe that's why we spend so much time searching for answers to questions that can never truly be answered. We think if we just knew what happens after we die, we could finally find some comfort.

Or maybe the not knowing is the only comfort we have.

The thought of decomposing in a grave is unsettling enough. I don't think I want to know for sure if there's nothing waiting on the other side—though I don't know if I believe in an afterlife anyway.

But having the possibility? That's something.

The possibility that my parents are somewhere out there, together, living the life they never got to in this one—that's a comfort.

Maybe we don't need answers. Maybe asking the questions is enough.

"Maybe we just need to ask." I say, taking a sip from my beer.

It's nearly midnight.

The bar is quieter than usual for a Friday night.

Besides our own, only a handful of booths are occupied. The other patrons seem too far gone to be contemplating death—too intoxicated to even remember their own names, let alone worry about the beyond.

Not that we're entirely sober either. We just talk too much, no matter our state.

Ally started this conversation, Luke jumped in almost immediately, and the rest of us have been riding the wave ever since.

"I like that." Calum says, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "Asking the questions makes us feel like we're doing something." he shrugs, and I nod in agreement.

"Are we really, though?" Michael smirks, always ready to turn a conversation inside out.

"We had almost put it to rest." Luke sighs.

"Nothing is ever truly put to rest, Luke." Michael points at him with his beer bottle. "We always want more answers."

"I like you." Luke says dryly, and I chuckle at the exchange.

I spin my bottle in my hands, watching the last sip of beer slosh against the glass. It's too warm to be enjoyable, but I take a sip anyway, immediately regretting it as I fight the instinct to grimace.

The conversation fades. We let the silence settle, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

Mina is speaking quietly to Edward. He looks irritated. I wonder what's going on between them—Mina never talks about him anymore.

Discreetly, I glance at Michael.