Character(s): Cocoa and Rock
Comments: Two people making their last memory together at the end of the world.
They're sitting beneath the mall, or rather, what's left of it. Cocoa's not crying anymore, though her cheeks are puffy and red. Of course she's scared, they're both terrified, but what can you really do when the world is ending in two hours or perhaps fifteen minutes, and you don't know how good you've been so you've got no idea where you'll be going after the world turns dark.
Rock's sure Cocoa will go to heaven, or at least some happy place. He's not sure sure about himself- spying, attempting murder, and as bad as he's been during the last year-
Cocoa interrupts this train of thought, her eyes not directed at him but rather at something in the
distance. Maybe it's the soul train coming to pick them up?
"Do you think we'll go to heaven?" She asks calmly, still averting her gaze.
"What? Of course you'll be going there."They're both slient for a while and she smiles and leans onto his shoulder and says, "You'll be coming too, right?"
And then they sit there for a while, the commotion in the streets is starting to die down and people are perhaps coming to terms with their impending doom.
Last time they were this close was at a movie theater, before Rock left to become a spy and Casablanca was playing on the big screen. The air was comepletly different, full with suspense and tension-Yet, nobody was overly worried. This was a movie, after all, and if it ended sadly, everyone would just go home and maybe have a little cry and then go to sleep or read a book or do whatever they'd like to do on a saturday night. He'd been happier then- It was before he knew how prisoners were treated, before he'd been snapped in two, and he'd been just plain Rock with his not-yet-but-maybe-soon girlfreind on his arm, and his only care in the world was getting her home on time and finishing his homework.
He feels something warm-Cocoa's taken hold of his hand, now. They used to hold hands all the time as kids, but as he grew older it became a general rule; One day in the cool autumn schoolyard he'd taken her aside and explained that, "Boys don't hold hands". Cocoa'd laughed and said "OK, I won't either.", because every girl in school would hold their best freind's hand. In fact, the playground was covered with kids and most of the girl's were holding someone's hand. Though, that was a trivial little trend back in second grade, he still feels somewhat warm inside about the fact that he's special enough to be holding her hand. Of course he knows the real reason she's holding his hand, but he tries to forget about that, right now. He squeezes her hand lightly without thinking and she squeezes it back.
It's almost to dark to see now.
At the very least, they'll be going together.