things have gotten closer to the sun
starseas
Summary:
it's strange, making the choice to face his past-it almost feels like he's heading for the sun straight on, like he's screaming come on and burn me, i deserve it.
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when a solar flare is announced to end the world in twelve days, harry reunites with the people that he used to know better than the back of his own hand.
Notes:
after two months of absolute pain, i'm finally finished!! hmmm. i'm not sure what this is, i just sort of got an idea and ran with it. i hope you like it! ♡♡♡
HEADS UP: the solar flare described in this is not real science, meaning that this would probably never happen in real life - so don't be scared! ♡
Work Text:
So, this is what it's like to be the last man on earth.
Harry huffs out a dry laugh at the thought as he follows the bend in the road, gravel snapping like fire beneath the worn out tires of his car.
The midnight sky is the colour of the deep sea, but it doesn't feel calming at all. The feeling is all cold-sweat and a heavy panic, like everything's closing in around him. Inching closer and closer and closer, suffocating.
But it's not, it's not that. It can't be that, because nothing's closing in. Nothing at all.
It's just him. Him and the long stretch of road ahead, the road and the streetlights that cast pale shadows across his windshield, pale shadows that brighten his shaking hands on the steering wheel and the stark emptiness of the backseat.
He may have had something to drink. He can't remember.
He can't even remember what he was doing this morning, to be honest. Can't remember if he went out and pretended to socialize or if he just sat in the darkness of his flat as usual, thinking, drowning himself in his useless bloody nostalgia. He doesn't even know where the hell he's driving to, he's just hoping that he ends up somewhere.
It's a been a hard day to feel real.
Everything looks the way it does in dreams, clear but a bit blurry, like it could change into something else at any second. The car radio is on low volume, voices filling up the space like static or soft rain, and Harry catches fragments of the conversation as he drives.
He's not really paying attention until, all of a sudden, he is.
"Well. I suppose that's all, folks. It's December fourth, two thousand and eighteen, and we've got about twelve days left until the end of the world."
Frowning, he fiddles with the buttons until the voices grow louder.
"What in the bloody hell are you saying, Nick? Are you high?" A woman laughs over the speakers, her voice warm and hazy like the setting sun.
Harry stops at a red light.
He sits at the lonely intersection and he listens. The world seems to be asleep at this hour. No other car is in sight and suddenly, Harry's starting to remember. With the end of the world sitting less than two weeks away, he remembers a pair of blue eyes.
Deep ocean eyes that grew shallow.
Loving blue eyes that grew cold, that grew tired.
The man on the radio laughs. "Oh, screw off, I'm serious! Apparently the world is going to end in, like, twelve days or something. Solar flare, they're saying."
