Fintan may wake up early for work, but that doesn't mean he enjoys it. He drags himself out of bed like a ghost who overslept and missed his own haunting. Still, money's money — and he won't earn it lying in bed.
This morning, though, is a Saturday. He would much rather wake at noon than 6 a.m., but plans are plans. Maybe some fresh air out in nature will help with the mood and morning grogginess.
The shower sputtered awake, steam wrapping around him as he tried to pretend he was somewhere else — a hot spring in Japan, maybe. Or a sauna, without the expectations of conversation. As the fogged mirror slowly revealed his face, he muttered, "You look like an exhausted potato."
After freshening up, Fintan scarfed down a quick breakfast — two slices of toast, badly buttered, and coffee that tasted like burnt ambition. He loaded his already-packed bags into the trunk of his car. Thank God he'd had the brilliant idea to pack the night before.
He shut the trunk with a satisfying clunk, double-checked the front door (once, then again, then a third time just to be safe), and slid into the driver's seat. Time to pick up Aihan. He'd be getting a strong cup of coffee the second he did.
The roads were quiet — the kind of peaceful that felt borrowed, like something could interrupt at any second. Trees lined the sides of the road like tall, drowsy sentinels.
As he pulled up in front of Aihan's apartment, the front door opened almost too perfectly on cue. Aihan jogged up to the car like an actor hitting his mark.
"So, Finny, excited for our lovely trip?" Aihan asked brightly, tossing his duffel bag into the back seat with theatrical flair.
Fintan sighed, accepting his fate of being called that wretched name.
"Aihan, as tempted as I am to push you out of this car — tempt me further and I will drive us into a ditch."
"Haha, you're funny. I'm your only friend who can brighten your day. Actually, I'm quite literally your only friend."
Damn. He didn't have to call me out like that. Not my fault most people only want to be your friend if they can get something out of you.
Fintan huffed. "People are assholes these days. I'd rather have one real friend than a dozen who wouldn't blink before betraying me."
Aihan snickered, and Fintan realized his slip — or more accurately, his feelings slipping through.
"So you do admit we're friends, right?" Aihan said with mock innocence.
Fintan glanced at him defensively. "No. What I meant was that you're the only person I talk to regularly among—"
"THE ROAD, LOOK AT THE ROAD!"
"What—?!"
Fintan looked up just in time to see a truck barreling toward them. He swerved sharply into the opposite lane, tires screeching. The truck blasted past them with the horn blaring, a sound that echoed in his chest.
His fingers clenched the wheel. Beside him, Aihan was inhaling and exhaling slowly, like someone teaching themselves how to breathe.
Trying to lighten the mood, Fintan muttered, "See? Got out of the way just in time."
From the corner of his eye, he saw Aihan turn toward him, disbelief in every feature. "Fintan, are you genuinely okay? How the hell did you not see that truck?"
Now that he thought about it... that truck did seem to appear out of nowhere.
Still watching the road, he asked, "Did you see it coming gradually? Or did it just... show up? Because I swear, something that big should've been visible long before that."
Aihan frowned, facing forward again. "Yeah... now that I think about it, I didn't see it coming either. And it wasn't even in the right lane."
They fell silent.
Something was off. He could feel it — like they'd missed something important.
Aihan broke the silence. "Wait. Fintan... this isn't the road we were on before."
Fintan scoffed. "What? We've been driving straight for the past hour."
"No, you don't understand. Look at the GPS."
Fintan leaned over and followed Aihan's pointing finger. Then froze.
"Why does it show nothing but forest? We're on a road. What the hell?"
"And this road isn't new either," Aihan added. "It was built a few years ago."
Fintan pulled over and parked, trying to get a grasp on what was happening.
"Aihan, check your phone's GPS."
Aihan gave him a puzzled look but did as asked. Moments later, his eyes widened.
Fintan exhaled. "So it's not just my system. Maybe the road was never fully digitized? Or misclassified somehow?"
"That's weird, though. It was showing up on the GPS before... and then it wasn't. What kind of road disappears from digital maps midway?"
Fintan frowned. "It's rare, but not impossible."
"I mean, we can still follow the GPS instructions. It's still giving directions, right?"
Aihan nodded slowly. "Yeah... it is."
"Then let's stick with it," Fintan said, looking through the windshield. "We're already too far to turn back now."
"Alright," Aihan agreed, letting out a deep breath. "Let's keep going."
—
After a bit more driving, they finally reached their camping site — near a cliff that overlooked a breathtaking view.
Fintan stepped out and inhaled deeply. The clean, unpolluted air helped wash away the lingering tension. For once, he sighed out of peace, not work stress.
"Aihan, have to hand it to you. This place is amazing."
Aihan groaned from the back. "Finny, come help me. I'm your friend, not your maid."
They pitched the tent, laughed at the clumsy instructions, and fumbled with tent poles like two city boys who had never touched a tree before.
Once everything was set up, the sun had already dipped halfway down the horizon. They looked at each other and laughed softly.
What a day it had been.
They sat by the fire later, watching the flames dance like they were performing a private show. Stars blinked awake above them — scattered like breadcrumbs across an ink-black sky.
I've always prided myself on staying on top of things — work, errands, even weekends. Schedules gave me structure, control, purpose. But for today... and the next few days?
No schedules. No checklists. Just me, nature, and Aihan.
"Finny! What are you bothering your head for?"
And of course, Aihan. He'll make damn sure I don't follow any schedule out here.
"Nothing, Aihan. Just make sure you don't burn the marshmallows, you dimwit."
Aihan laughed. "Please. My roasting skills are legendary. You always lick your fingers clean when you eat my s'mores."
I rolled my eyes. Fair. I do.
We sat quietly after that — fire crackling, s'mores melting, stars painting the sky.
A good life.
I turned toward Aihan, about to speak. "Hey, do you—"
He slapped a hand over my mouth. "Shh."
Stunned, I raised a brow at him. What the hell?
He nodded behind me, urging me to look. I did.
And froze.
Just a few meters away was a clock — glowing pink, unnatural, eerie. It sat perfectly upright on the grass like someone had placed it there. Like it had appeared.
I made a move to stand, but Aihan stopped me.
"Fintan, are you insane? Why the hell would you go near that thing?"
I frowned at his hushed tone. "Aren't you usually the one poking weird stuff with a stick?"
"It's not that," Aihan said quietly, eyes flicking between the clock and me. "I just… I don't have a good feeling. It looks familiar, but I don't know why."
I blinked. That was very unlike him. If he was spooked, then now I was curious.
I shrugged off his hands and walked toward the clock, ignoring his whispered protests. Kneeling beside it, I examined it: old wood, Roman numerals, glowing pink aura. Everything about it was ordinary — except that glow.
As I reached out to touch it, the clock skidded away — fast — straight toward the cliff.
I sprinted and threw myself onto it, catching it under my chest.
Aihan's footsteps thundered behind me.
"FINTAN! Are you out of your damn mind?!"
Lying flat, I gave a half-shrug. "Still caught it, though."
But then the clock buzzed — violently.
And suddenly, I was sliding toward the cliff.
I felt a grip on my foot — Aihan. He was trying to pull me back.
"It's stuck to me!" I yelled. "Let go before we both—"
"No! I'm not leaving you, idiot. And… well, I'm kind of stuck too."
The clock's vibration intensified. My shirt tore against branches and rocks. We reached the cliff's edge — and then plummeted.
I had a thousand thoughts. Then none.
Should've stayed home.
✦✦✦
"Haha, Finnian, want to come play with me?"
"Amias, I've told you — I need to focus on my studies."
"But Mother barely lets me outside without someone babying me. This is the only time I feel... normal. Not like a thorn in a patch of bluebells."
Finnian sighed. Defeated again by guilt. He closed his books, stacked them neatly, and turned.
"Alright, Amias. What do you want to do?"
Amias lit up like a sunflower seeing the sun. "Let's go play tag with the village boys! Mother said I won't be back for months after this."
That line gave Finnian pause. But he smiled anyway. "Let's ask Mother for some treats to bring."
"Most definitely! Aunt would love that too."
After hours of laughter and games, the sun began to dip. Finnian carried an exhausted Amias on his back.
"Thank you, Finnian. For making today fun."
Finnian hummed in response. They walked in silence.
"Finnian... do you ever think about old age?"
He replied after a moment, "More than I'd like. I think it would be a privilege — to live long enough for your skin to wrinkle and your memories to stack high."
Amias nodded, yawning. "I'd play with you every day. We'd talk, or sit in silence, just being."
Finnian smiled. "You'd interrupt my studies, and I'd always be your friend — and your playmate."
Amias buried his smile into Finnian's shoulder. "Thank you for being my friend."
A week later, Finnian's mother told him that Amias had passed away from an incurable lung disease.