"That's so cool," he said and held it up to the dusk light as it glistened. "Why'd you get this?"

Originally, the gift was a lot bleaker, with the bee symbolizing how we'd all get wiped out in the apocalypse. Thinking about it now, it felt a bit strange that I'd be giving Charles a gift with death in mind, especially given how his family has struggled deeply. But when I saw the stone shining in the light, like a golden dewdrop, my whole interpretation of the stone changed.

It sparkled like the sun and all of my memories of summers during better times. The bee preserved within wasn't a symbol of death, but a symbol of flowers, warmth, blossoming fruit trees, and life. Even in times like this, where the cold nips at the last buds of us and ash threatens to choke us all, it still glows against all odds. It was all summer in a stone.

"Just because it reminded me of life."

"A dead bee reminded you of life?"

"It's complicated," I said and waved him off. Charles also reached into his bag to grab something heavy.

When he pulled it out, it was that jar of colorful stones that we had gathered all the way back in August. It shimmered like a mirrorball, capturing and reflecting the colors of the sunset as the sky danced with pastel pinks and charred oranges.

"I want you to have this," he said. "We couldn't bring this along, and I didn't want it to go to waste."

"I wish I had brought the turquoise shard," I said. "So that it'd be complete."

"Don't make this day anymore blue than it is," he said.

"Your puns are getting lower and lower in quality," I said jokingly.

But he did bring up a good point about the day and the loss lingering in the salty air. It's then when I began thinking about the vows that we'd made in the past, like the ones we made on the day we gathered stones for the jar. They would forever stay unfulfilled, the unrealistic dreams never coming to life because of the Mooncrash.

"We're never going to see the snow here," I said. "Or ever get the Hawaii vacation or the camping trip. I know that it's pointless to think about everything that we won't be able to do, but I can't help it."

"Who says we aren't going camping?" Charles replied. "Yeah, all the old camping places in Wyoming will probably be ash choked, but we'll be able to find new places."

"Like in Kansas or somewhere in the middle of nowhere."

"Kansas is a great idea."

"There's just miles of cornfields," I said. "Where are the mountains?"

"Cornfields are pretty lively, and being surrounded with so much life will provide as much protection as the mountains do," Charles said and continued before I could point out that cornfields are ecological dead zones. "We've still got time to figure this out together. I'll be there to help get this done. I promise. "

I was surprised that he said the last part like that, like we'd be friends forever, or at least for the rest of our possibly shortened lives. I remember how we'd barely been able to hold a coherent conversation all the way back in May, as our friendship crumbled away. Now, we were inseparable, and I guess in that moment, I felt enough trust that I told him my biggest secret.

"You know how I never really talk about people that I like?" I said. "Or about dating or crushes or anything like that ever."

"Are you finally going to expose your crush?" he said. "Who's the girl?"

I took a deep breath. "I'm not really into girls. I'm more into guys."

"You're gay?" he asked, barely holding back the surprise in his voice.

"I guess," I said because I was just surprised that he went out and said the word that I'd been avoiding when talking about myself. Even though I kinda acknowledged it, I guess I don't see myself that way yet, just because I can't see myself in the book characters that call themselves that.

"We should've spent this summer finding you a boyfriend," he said, and I groaned.

"God, you're making this so embarrassing."

"What can I say?" he said. "I'm an embarrassing person. Anyways, we need to part two of our ideal partner conversation. I already bared my soul to you, and now it's your turn."

"I don't know," I said. "I guess guys with dark hair."

"Like black or dark brown?" he asked.

"Why are you even asking this?" I said, slightly mortified.

"It's all part of my secret plan," he said. "Just trust me."

"Okay..." I said, starting hesitantly. "I guess either is fine. I think guys with scruffy beards look better, and, this is kinda embarrassing and cliche, but guys that are, like, muscular."

"Now I shall plug this into my AI boyfriend generator to find the perfect guy for you," he said, and we laughed for a bit because out of all of his ridiculous plans, this had to be the most.

After a brief pause, he asked, "So why now?"

That was a great question, and there was a long pause as I thought about it. I wanted to say that it was because I'm now confident in my identity, but that would be a blatant lie. Telling him that I trust him or that I wanted to be a bit emotionally available answers the "why" aspect of the question but not the "now" part. Technically, I couldn't lie today, as part of my vow but I never needed to come out to him. There was only one answer.

"It's because I'll never see you again," I said. "You'll be gone forever tomorrow, so I'll never have to see you seeing me differently. It's like taking a risk without needing to face the consequences."

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"Don't think you're getting rid of me that easily," he said. "When I come back, I'll be bringing back your dream Southern guy: muscles, beard, and dark hair all included."

I thought that my face couldn't get a redder shade of red, but it did. I almost waved off his response, but there was one thing that he said that I couldn't get out of my head.

"You're coming back?"

"When times get better," he said with a sigh. I didn't know whether "times get better" was a nicer code for never or if he truly believed that things were going to improve.

He turned to me. "Just one last question—"

"I know exactly what it's going to be," I said with a small groan. "It's going to be the question."

"What is the question?" he asked.

"Just go on with it."

"Did you ever, you know, like me?" Charles said. "You know, like in the relationship stuff way."

"See, that was the question I was talking about," I said.

"So?"

"No," I said before immediately taking that back. "I don't know. I've never been in a relationship, so I don't really know."

I guess the reason that I took back my hard "no" is because I guess I started thinking about what Mira and Leon said on their wedding vows about how they'd always be there to support each other, and how they see the goodness in each other. I do feel the same way about him, in that he's funny (with the occasional pun-groaner) and upbeat and forward thinking and looking out for others, and that I'll always support him. Can a guy feel this way about another guy in a friend way? I've never really had another friendship, so I wouldn't know.

But at the same time, I don't feel the same way about Charles the way I feel about the man in the magazine, with his chiseled body and handsome smile. I do care for him, but in a different way, one that I'm not sure is closer to how I feel about the model or closer to a friendship. Mira said that her love for Leon wasn't instantaneous and that it took time to develop, but I don't feel like this'll happen with me for Charles. But it's pointless pondering about this when he's gone for good.

"What about you?" I asked a bit hesitantly.

"No?" he said. "I've just never really thought of other guys like that."

There was an awkward lull in our conversation as we stared at the horizon, the sun making its last few gasps. We were cloaked in soft indigos and lavenders, as the moon grew brighter, and the stars re-appeared. The air was frosty, so we sat closer to each other, and watched as the golden light rimming the sea faded to dark. By then, the brightest stars were illuminating the night.

"You know that my last favorite memory was the last time we went stargazing," I said. "Back when the world wasn't so bad."

"What a coincidence," Charles said. "Well, luckily for you my last item on the bucket list is stargazing, just like the day we made our bucket list."

"If that was your last wish, I would've brought my dad's telescope," I said. "We weren't able to see much last time."

"I'm already thinking two steps ahead of you," he said and grabbed a cylindrical object from his backpack. When I took a closer glance, I saw that it was a telescope.

"Where'd you get that?"

He ignored my question with a simple shrug before saying, "Let's wait a bit longer, so that all the light will fade away, and it'll be easier to see all the stars."

So we laid down and stared at the night sky, the moon shining so bright that I was worried that even with a telescope, we wouldn't be able to see much. While we laid there in this serene silence, I began thinking about the conversation last time we were here when I told him that I wouldn't take back the Mooncrash. Maybe the universe listened to my calls and that's why the volcanoes started erupting.

It was all one twisted punishment that the event that brought Charles and I closer together for these past few months would be the one to separate us forever.

"I'm sorry," I said, and Charles looked a little surprised. "For what I said last time about not wanting to take back the Mooncrash. If I could, I'd take it all back in a heartbeat."

There was a bit of a pause before he replied, "It's okay, really. We always say things that we don't really mean."

"No, but you don't understand," I said, and everything came pouring out. "I really meant it. I was terrified of college, growing up, losing our friendship, and the Mooncrash took all of that away for a moment, and I wanted it to be that way forever. But I didn't realize that you were being hurt."

Charles didn't respond for a long time after that. I wondered if I had said too much or that I sounded too needy or clingy or that I told him too much about myself. Even now, after all of the events today, I still don't feel like I know enough about emotional honesty to know when it's just too much.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally said, "I felt the same way, you know. I thought that the Mooncrash was this break from my pre-scheduled future, one that'd give me a little more breathing room."

After a short pause, he continued, "I'm also sorry for making you feel anxious and scared since I know that all I could talk about then was about the future. I didn't know that it was making you feel that way."

"It's alright," I said.

There was another long, awkward pause before I turned to him. "You think it's dark enough to use the telescope?"

"Let's do it," he said and grabbed it from his backpack before pointing it at the sky and staring through it.

"What are you looking at?" I asked.

"The biggest thing in the sky," he replied. "Just to test the telescope out."

"Can I try?" I asked, and he handed me the telescope.

When I looked through it, I could see the wrinkles and craters on the moon clearly. There were dark and light splotches, with pale lines etched onto the surface, marking the impacts of various asteroids. I wondered where the crater marking the impact of the Mooncrash asteroid was. It must've smashed into the dark side of the moon, which was how it got closer to us and created this mess.

"Getting to know the enemy," Charles commented after I had spent about five or so minutes staring at the moon through the telescope.

"Totally," I said dryly and handed it back to him. "What are you looking for?"

"The little dipper," he said. "It should be right above us."

I stared straight up at the sky, searching for the stars that he was looking for. The moon was still to the side of the sky, so its light didn't hamper our search for the constellation. While he waved around the telescope, I scanned the dark sky that slowly revealed stars the more that I stared at it.

"Did you know that I used to believe in the myth that people turn into stars once they die?" he asked. "I thought that Santa was ridiculous, and the tooth fairy even more so, but I really believed this when I was younger."

"I mean we all turn into stardust eventually," I said.

"True," he replied. "But it wasn't like that. It was more of a person's spirit going up and turning into a star immediately."

I didn't really know how to respond, so I just nodded and listened as he continued, "Thinking about it now, it's absolutely ridiculous because stars are balls of hydrogen and helium, not spirits. I think I knew that even then, but I chose to believe the myth because it was a better story."

"I think I'd choose that too," I replied.

"That was a story that my grandma told me," he said. "Before she passed away. Whenever I'd visit Taiwan when I was younger, she'd point to a spot in the sky, just next to the North Star, and say that that's where she'd always be, so that she'd watch over me all the time."

"Except for the Southern hemisphere," he said with a dry chuckle. "That's why I'm definitely not planning to go to Australia anytime soon."

I let out a quiet laugh at his quip before the mood became more somber. "So why are you telling me this now?"

"I know it's ridiculous, but I feel like the Northern Star is brighter now," he said. "It's impossible, but I can't count out the impossible after everything that has happened. I just want you to know that if the star is shining brighter than today, just know that I'm up there watching over you. Maybe it'll help you find closure."

"Don't say that," I said, knowing right away what he was implying. "You guys are going to be safe. I know it."

He was about to say something, but I cut him off, "Let's just enjoy the telescope. I want to see Venus."

He gave me a sad but knowing smile, but I pretended not to see it because I couldn't let him know that I thought that he was going to die. I had to be strong, just like he was. So after that, we didn't really talk much about death and focused on stargazing.