Kiss of Death

The two of us sit on the dirt, looking over at the city skyline. The hills are the perfect vantage point to see the meteor that will destroy everything we love. Sam fidgets. He’s clearly hesitating, even at the end of the world.

“June… can I ask you something?”

“Go for it.”

He still hesitates, like he’s embarrassed. Come on dude. I know what you want. I’m not gonna freak out about it. It’s a natural thing to ask when you’re looking at a meteor that’s about to crush you.

He wrings his hands and looks away. “Can… can I kiss you?”

He’s so flustered asking me that it’s kind of adorable, like a nervous puppy, but it’s not really something I find cute. But I didn’t prevent the end of the world this go around, and now I feel indebted to him.

“It’s just… I’ve never kissed anyone before, so…”

“Sure,” I reply. I hope he doesn’t sense the obligation in my voice.

Immediately he leans in. I thought he’d just ask for a peck on the cheek but he’s already trying to make out with me, tongue and all. He’s so out of sync with me that I’d laugh if I had the freedom to do it.

He might be the worst kisser I’ve ever had in my life? Not that I’m experienced with kissing, but he’s definitely not.

I pull away. I can see him start to shrink a little. “I’m that bad, am I?” He asks but I can tell he already knows.

The meteor looms overhead so I try to approach this as delicately as I can (though I don’t know how delicately I can).

“How badly do you want to know?”

“Be honest with me, June.”

But you can’t, not fully. He only has a few hours left. He can’t act on it. Just be kind.

“I’ve had worse, funnily enough.” I crack a smile and hope it comes across as sincere.

He looks hurt. Why did I say funnily enough? Why did I word it that way at all? What the fuck, June?

A tear rolls down his cheek but he smiles. “Just let me have this.”

“I know I can’t be amazing after never doing it before but just let me believe it. Just let me have this, June.”

Same you fucking idiot, I want to say. Kissing involves two people, so treat the other person like a fucking person.

But I’m not the same kind of person, really.

It’s the end for him, but not for me. Even if he dies here again, I go back a week, again and again, until I solve this.

The weight of the world is on my shoulders. I have to save everything. I have to make everyone happy. There’s no other choice. No one else can do this.

If it weren’t for that, I’d tell him off. But I can do this for him. That’s the point of everything I’m doing: only being something for someone else.

So I close my eyes and lean forward slightly, and it’s back to the worst kiss of my life.

God. He really sucks ass at this.

I let him dictate the pace. I open my mouth so he can shove his tongue down my throat, and he does, badly. His hands start to slide down my body. He’s really desperate to do a lot, I think.

He stops kissing me to say, “I hope this is ok.”

“It is,” I say, because it is.

Then he starts to dig his fingernails in, which was also OK, but he sure didn’t ask. I’m no stranger to pain but it’s clear he has no idea what he’s doing.

Then he tugs my shirt collar aside and bites into my shoulder, badly. He’s ravenous, like an animal, but a shit one.

I really don’t know what to think. If it was anyone other than him it’d maybe be kinda cute. Instead it’s just sad.

Then he bits down hard. He draws blood.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! I pull away, hard. Fuck fuck this is bad.

“Oh my god June sorry sorry I didn’t realise I would-”

And he’s off, apologising constantly, a full fawn response. I don’t blame him. I’d be doing the same thing.

I want to slap him, tell him off, let him know how he fucked up. But it wouldn’t help. He’s gonna die anyway.

So instead I silently pull him into a hug. That’s probably what he needed all along.

He cries. I cry a little too. We sit there for a while, holding each other at the world’s end.

Then the world’s end gets a bit too close to comfort.

I plant a gentle kiss on his lips. “A little more like this,” I say, smirking. Then I let myself fall backwards a week before now. To him, I disappear, To me, I live on.

To me, that Sam is long gone. The next one won’t be. I’ll save him. I’ll save everyone.

All I can do is make a future where that wasn’t needed, where Sam’s first kiss isn’t with someone desperate to save everyone, but someone who loves him, who can show him how.

It’s all I can do. I have to save everything. There’s no other choice. No one else can.