The hotel TV has a big yellow breaking news banner: APOPHIS ON COURSE FOR EARTH with a dinosaur-killing asteroid graphic. Aika snorts, jamming another clip into his hair.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll believe it when they stop showing ads on on TV.”

Hudson picks up his phone, scrolling the news. Doom and drama and gloom. Most people think it’s just hysteria. But NASA are being kind of quiet. He looks out at the sky, the usual LA smog, but is there a kind of orange tint to it today? A kind of end-of-the-world filter?

Best not to think about it. Gotta schmooze with the great and good of Warner Bros tonight, repair the relationships after the last box office boom. Aika has done her magic as usual. He gives her an air kiss in the mirror.

“Knock ‘em dead,” she says, pulling his chair back.

“Yeah, just call me Asteroid Apophis. No? Too soon?”

Aika slaps him on the arm.

Everyone at the studio dinner wanted to talk about the asteroid rather than his flop movie, so in some ways a win, but on the way out his car gets stuck in traffic. There’s a bunch of people yelling in the streets, holding up signs about the end of the world. Christ. He tells the driver he doesn’t mind walking, he knows this area. There are a lot of people out tonight, a kinda weird vibe in the air, like the last night of a festival. He pulls out his phone and texts an old number.

Hey. Did you hear the world’s ending?

Haha, is a strangely prompt reply. I just saw it on the news. Do you know what’s weird, I was about to text you the same thing.

That’s our soul bond at work. He pauses, a little too drunk to walk and text, leaning against a boarded-up store. You in town?

For the end of the world? You know it.

I’m here too. You still at your place in weho?

Yes :) He watches the little blue dots dance. Come over?

Hudson sends back a heart, turning around and crossing the street.

“Been a while,” Connor says, grinning. He feels the same though, warm and hard and soft all at the same time. Longer and longer between their meetings now, and Hudson breathes him in. He smells different than he used to, but so much has changed in the last four years he can’t keep being surprised by it.

“You should come visit.”

“You should tell me when you’re in LA, you mean.”

“Is this not me telling you?” They break apart. Hudson pinches Connor’s cheek, plump from his smile. “Looking good, baby.”

“You too. No change there.” Connor lets the door shut behind them. Outside sirens blare in the street. “So are we gonna get high and watch this asteroid plow into earth, or whatever?”

Hudson grins. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He helps Connor carry some blankets and hummus chips to the roof, where some old lawn chairs camp out by big metal vents. The air is weird, Hudson can see it now; even though it’s 1am the horizon burns with a kind of blurred orange light. They catch up, the requisite small talk: are you busy, how’s the family, you still seeing that guy, did she give you the ring back in the end? Hudson’s left hand ends up in Connor’s lap, fingers entwined. They pass the joint back and forth between them, the world mellowing to that golden-orange haze. The sirens keep coming, which is kinda unsettling. The sound of crowds chanting tugs at the edges of his hearing.

“Like, it’s not real, right?” Hudson asks after a moment. “I shouldn’t be booking a flight home or something?”

“No,” Connor says. “Well, actually, I don’t know. But I don’t feel like the universe’s energy is giving mass death and destruction today.”

“Well, you would know.”

“Are you sassing me, Hudson Williams?” Connor says, giving him a mock-affronted look. Hudson snorts, thumping his hand in his lap.

“No, I mean. I do actually trust you. If anyone’s in tune with the universe it’s you.”

“Do you have any regrets?” He says it on an inhale, smoke curling around his nostrils. “I mean. Let’s say the world’s ending. Any big ones?”

Hudson looks up at the hazy sky. Wishes he could see the stars under the hazy clouds. Wonders what the asteroid might look like coming close. “Hmm, well. Maybe proposing was a mistake, in hindsight.”

“No, don’t say that.”

“Well, one non-refundable venue deposit says otherwise.” Connor’s expression is unreadable, and Hudson moves on quickly, because they don’t need to dwell on those details. Connor, unusually drunk and animated, leaning close to his ear. I don’t think you should marry her, and I don’t think she wants it either. He clears his throat. “Uh, also those matching tattoos I got with the cast of Horse Face. That was stupid.”

Now Connor’s laughing. “Oh, man. That was a bad movie.”

“Rude.” He leans in, lets Connor put the joint to his lips. He looks at him through the smoke, eyes red. Feeling a little mixed up and nostalgic. “Maybe not convincing Jacob for season 4.”

Connor’s smile is far too sweet. “Oh, yeah? And what would the plot have been? Shane and Ilya Get a Divorce?”

“No, Shane and Ilya Stay Together For The Kids,” Hudson corrects. They both burst into laughter, big bubbles of it bursting from their lips. Connor leaves the joint in the ashtray, pulling Hudson’s arm closer. Hudson wants to be next to him on the sofa, hands scratching through his hair, holding him close. But they don’t really do that anymore. “You,” he asks instead. “Any regrets for the great Connor Storrie?”

“No. I try not to.” They eyes lock for a long moment, before Connor ducks away. “Well. Maybe just one.”

“The world’s literally ending, Connor. No point keeping it in now.”

Connor looks at him again, closing both his hands about Hudson’s. “You. I always thought….well. Maybe someday. But it never really seemed to. You know?”

Hudson’s heart thumps in his throat. Time slows, a light breeze blowing through their hair. “Yeah. I, uh. Yeah. Me too. Sort of.”

The moment stretches. Hudson doesn’t have the words. Maybe he could say, I called off my wedding for you, in the spirit of end-of-the-world-truth-telling. Maybe he might say, I spend every day thinking about how to find a way to be with you. Or even, I think every guy you date is a clout-chasing loser or I miss getting paid to kiss you or even worse, I think about that night we fucked almost every day like it’s burned into my fucking brain. 

“Oh, look. Look!” Connor’s head jerks up. The orange glow in the sky burns bright, like the midnight sun, and for a terrifying second Hudson thinks fuck, it’s real, it’s real, it’s over; but then as soon as it flares up it’s gone, a brilliant flash leaving purple spots in his vision. Hudson’s heart drums wildly, his hand clammy in Connor’s. They look at each other again. Connor looks like he’s seen god, so beautiful in the low city lights. Hudson decides not to overthink it.

“Connor,” he says. When he turns his head Hudson leans in, and the press of their lips is like home. He tastes of smoke and the last thing he remembers before his whole life changed. 

“You know,” Connor murmurs, when their lips break just long enough for him to catch a breath, “if that really was the end of the world, you missed your cue by like. Ten seconds.”

“My timing’s always been kinda slow,” Hudson replies, smiling. Their lips brush, a barely there kiss. “But I always get there in the end.”

“Except with Horse Face. You were not right about that.”

“Okay, asshole. Let’s get that asteroid back, I’m done with you.”