Another day in life for Cal and Andre, though one of their last days actually. It felt overwhelming to say the least, knowing that that day was far closer than their brains could fully grasp. May 1, the date was set and with just one mere exact month left to live, left to breathe and function, they decided to spend it chasing spontaneous, reckless, and seemingly pointless moments and experiences.

It came as no surprise that they began to spend more time together. Death wasn't some distant idea anymore, it was real, looming, inevitable. Soon it would be over, for society, for them and all they truly had was each other. There was an unspoken obligation of being gentler between the two of them, softer, it felt weird, a pair of soon to be school shooters being all compassionate and depended on one another. What mattered was that it felt great and they deserved something pleasurable in life for once, even if it would be the end briefly they still had some time to make the most of it.

Cal and Andre often found themselves in their houses, moving between quiet conversations and carefully handling weapons, going from the deliberate assembly of pipe bombs to simply talking. Talking about anything really, about the shooting, about what they would do with their possession, about what people would think. They would discuss their plan with such an eerie serenity, smiling, of course they would smile about it, it was their last message for Earth. That serenity wasn't just in their voices; it showed in how they moved, how they sat close, sometimes lying beside each other in the silence between words. One might rest his head on the other's lap as they talked about Zero Day as if it was a new chapter of Genesis.

The plan was set and sure, their fate, for how much Andre insisted on the fact that they would easily overpower the police and escape and move around from school to school and repeat the same process, deep down they both knew their fate, death was inevitable. Still there were some things that weren't entirely completed, mostly understanding what they were to each other and the nature of their bonds. Obviously they were friends, best friends, even. But sometimes they shared a closeness that blurred the line between platonic and something else. Do best friends share that much intimacy? Do they kiss, simply because they had never had a first kiss and couldn't bear the thought of dying without indulging in one? Do best friends cuddle and talk about the end of the world, their own little waking call to make people see what the world really is? They weren't so sure about this but they learned to accept that the label didn't matter. Whether they were friends, lovers, or something in between didn't matter. Not with just a month left, a month worth of life doesn't realistically amount to anything consequential. The only thing that mattered was being together on Zero Day. That was enough and that was all.

Instead of lying lifelessly on the cold dead barren ground of their dreaded school, they found themselves on Andre's bed, hand-made pipe bombs nestled in the clutter on the floor. Andre knew that he should be cleaning up, that he should hide the bombs just in case of the remote chance of his parents coming back which wouldn't happen since they were out of town and fairly distant. But even as he thought of the small possibility of someone walking in Andre's room and opening it up like a Pandora's box of uneasiness, Andre couldn't bring himself to stand up, tidy up the mess, get rid of all of these weapons. How could he when all he craved was this? Talking to Cal and lying down peacefully, both their voices and hands tangling fingers to fingers as if blissfully unaware of what was in the room with them just there on the floor? Reason could wait, for now need and impulse could front their minds, pushing common sense to the side.