Has someone shot Valentino? Orion? Both of them?

Was this always supposed to end in gunfire?

Had Valentino been killed last night, would this be over? Possibly. But it also means he wouldn’t have been able to live first. Something that Orion made sure happened.

At what price?

Her family is panicking. Her mother and Dahlia run out of the pizzeria empty-handed and go straight into the car, yelling at Dalma to get in too. Floyd is banging on the lobby door and buzzing every button on the intercom for someone to let him in. Some tenants on the ground level are running out of their apartments, scared for their lives as they should be, as scared as Dalma should be for hers, but the moment that door opens, she shoves past everyone, even Floyd, and runs up those stairs.

Dalma feels as if she is a first responder, determined to save Orion’s life, knowing in her own heart that he would run toward danger to save hers too.

Orion

6:47 p.m.

Everything is mad hazy.

I’m seeing stars, but I’m not in space.

My head is on a pillow, but I’m not in bed.

Valentino’s arm is across my chest, but he’s not holding me close.

There were gunshots, but I’m not dead.

I fight to get my eyes open and then immediately regret it when I see the blood smeared all over my boyfriend’s beautiful face like something out of a horror movie. I want to return to the darkness where I can imagine—no, remember—being in bed with Valentino as he holds me close in a room that’s quiet except for our breathing.

I try shaking him awake, but he’s still trying to sleep, which fine, I get it, we haven’t had a ton of rest on his End Day, but we don’t have a lot of time left, and we still have to go down memory lane together. Valentino wanted—wants—to see how our first picture came out together, that fucking selfie, a word that we both fucking hate, that’s not supposed to outlive him.

Maybe I can wake him up with some Sleeping Beauty–type kiss because this can’t be how it ends, please don’t let this be how it ends.

I press my lips to Valentino’s, but he doesn’t snap awake and kiss me back.

His chest is slowly rising.

There’s hope, there’s hope, there’s hope, hope, hope.

I just don’t understand something.

If his heart is beating, why doesn’t it feel like he’s alive?

Dalma Young

6:47 p.m.

Dalma’s heart is pounding, scared she might bump into the killer or see her best friend’s corpse.

One feels worse than the other.