Unsaid

“The mountains always look beautiful this time of year,” Ben says to me as we sit on our little perch on the hill. It was impossible to disagree; the land is a deep green as far as the eye can see, broken up by a couple of small lakes that matched perfectly with the blue of the clear sky. The meteor, despite its impending doom, almost made the scene more peaceful. It reminds me of the moon.

“Of course they do,” I reply. “The mountains always look good out here.”

“I bet you’ve never gotten a view like this before though,” he remarked, motioning towards the incoming meteor. I nod in response, and we fall into silence again before Ben begins to speak.

“Jake, do you remember that one time when… uh…” He trails off, eyes squinted towards the sky in an attempt to remember something. “What was that one teacher’s name again? With the black hair?”

“You gotta be more specific than that, man,” I reply.

“She subbed for our geometry class a few times? Always wore that long-ass yellow robe thing?” He elaborated, looking back down at me.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, finally remembering. “Ms. Davis?”

“Yeah, yeah!” He replied in equal excitement. “She was awesome, man. Anyway remember that one time she brought in candy for the whole class and you got all excited, and then all it was was fuckin’ Twizzlers? I think that's one of the only times I’ve seen you genuinely angry.”

“Yeah, I remember,” I reply. “It was warranted, though. I mean, Twizzlers? Seriously?”

“The hell’s wrong with Twizzlers?” He asks, genuinely puzzled.

“They just aren’t good,” I explain. “I’d even say they’re capital B Bad. I mean, look me in the eyes and tell me you weren’t hoping those were Kitkats or somethin’.”

“That’s not… okay, yeah, sure,” he finally concedes, getting a smirk from me. “But, I mean, you got mad? Over Twizzlers?”

“...Okay, y’know what? Fair point,” I finally conceded. Not because I actually agree, but because I didn’t want to spend the last of our time together rambling about how bad Twizzlers are. I don’t think he would mind, though. “Why do you even remember that, anyway?” I question after a moment. “That was, like, 5 years ago.”

“Dunno,” he says simply. “It just came to mind.” We fall back into silence again, staring at the incoming meteor. It was morbidly beautiful, really, the way it slowly increased in size, an ever-growing blip in the bright sky. We get the grand opportunity to stare Death in the face before it greets us.

“How much time do we have left?” I ask Ben quickly. He takes out his phone and looks the countdown up before putting the phone away.

“About ten minutes, if it's accurate,” he relays to me, before laying down on the grass. I join him, and we lay in silence for a while.

“...Do you remember when I crashed my car for the first time?” I ask suddenly. Ben hums in thought.

“Yeah, like it was yesterday,” he replies. “I was at work when you called and said you crashed into a light pole going, like, 60, so I immediately got up and drove to you. My boss was furious, man.”

“Your boss could go to hell,” I exclaim in response.

“Oh, he will,” Ben says back. “Today, actually.” That gets a chuckle out of both of us.

“I hope so,” I start again after our laughter settles down. “I mean, sure, whatever, you got up in the middle of the day and left with little explanation, but you still told him why you were going. If he wouldn’t leave work ‘cause a friend nearly died, then I refuse to be in the same afterlife as him.”

“I didn’t tell him that,” Ben amended after I finished. “Didn’t have time. I left work as quickly as possible, before he even knew I was leaving.”

“...Oh,” I said after a moment. “Really? I thought you told him.”

“Nope, I had to get to you as quickly as possible,” he explains. “You’re like a brother to me. I’m not gonna let you die because my boss wanted a little explanation.” I never knew that; I always assumed his boss was just being a prick - and I guess that's still true here - but he was in such a hurry he didn’t even bother to explain. Perhaps before, I would’ve chastised him for that decision, but I know for a fact I would’ve done the same, so it would’ve just been hypocritical. He’s always been a good person, I think, as we find ourselves staring at the meteor again.

“You think we’ll be remembered?” Ben asks suddenly. I think about his question for a moment before responding.

“We’ll be remembered by something,” I answer. “Maybe some alien race will find our planet’s fragments and learn about us that way.”

“And what if they don’t?” He asks further, quiet in his tone.

“Then we’ll still be remembered,” I answer simply. “We’ll still be a part of history, even if no one knows it, and that’s all you need to be remembered. You don’t have to be known to still have mattered.” We both go silent for a moment, before Ben starts speaking again.

“Fuck,” he starts, audibly choked up. “When did you decide to become a philosopher?"

“Today,” I respond jokingly. “Wanted to add something else to my long list of accolades.”

“Oh fuck off,” Ben chuckles out. I snicker alongside him. We fall into another bout of silence after that, as per usual. The meteor was the size of the sun now, which probably meant we had no more than a couple of minutes left. Maybe. If only I’d decided to be an astronomer.

“Are we gonna be alright?” Ben asks quietly and shakily.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine,” I respond earnestly, grabbing his hand. He holds onto mine tightly. “We’ll get to see our loved ones. And I’ll get to live without Twizzlers.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ben barks out as he laughs so hard I can feel it through my hand. “Is that gonna be your last thought? About fucking Twizzlers?”

“No,” I reply, a small grin on my face. “It’s gonna be stupid though.” The meteor was burning in the atmosphere now, and with its entrance we fell into our final silence.

There was no other way to describe our rapid oncoming death than beautiful; there was no piece of media, no artwork, no anything that could produce this same feeling. We could hear it in the air, now, how it rippled through the atmosphere like a torpedo in water. It is frightening in a primal sense, but I’ve long accepted what’s about to happen.

My thoughts are brought back to Ben as he caresses my palm with his thumb. There was something he was leaving unsaid in that gesture; a comforting thought, so obvious that the entire evolution of human language was not necessary to say it. I knew what he was saying, a thought that the two of us shared, although I’m sure he tacked on a ‘you dumbass’ at the end of his. He knows I would find that funny, and that it would be an assurance that he genuinely cares. I caress his palm in kind.

The meteor lands just far enough away from us to let us admire the blast; the radiant glow it brings as the land around it flies up, like the world’s greatest fireworks show, which I suppose this is. The shockwave does not hit immediately, and in the final moments before I cannot help but think about how happy I am to have been here with Ben in his final moments - our final moments - and that I’m glad I could give him a little bit of comfort.

And, I was wrong, I think finally. Those final thoughts were the greatest ones I could’ve had.