I ran as fast as I could.

Exhaustion. The sounds of my footsteps echoing against darkness. My eyes were riveted in front of me. As I ran, streets were decaying, falling piece by piece into an unknown void. The "sky", if you could even call this a sky, was red and black, scintillating and undulating in stomach-churning pulses. Behind me, around me, there was nothing but darkness. Only the single, solitary road in front of me kept me safe. So I couldn't take my eyes off it. Yeah, I would have wished for a break. For once! Can't the end of the world be nicer, or at least quieter? This fading into nonexistence depressed me.

Yet I soldiered on. In front of me was a path. THE path. You may call it fate, or irony, or any other flowery term used in grandiose compositions (I knew someone who would write that. He's gone now.), but this was the usual afterschool path back home. Not mine, mind you—that's the point where tragedy rears its ugly head. It was hers. I almost knew it by heart now: go down the street (were there any shops here? I don't remember), past the train crossing (now only the tracks are left, extending a makeshift bridge unto endlessness), through the plaza (sorry Asahina-san, I won't be able to buy you that ice cream now), and into the residential area. And by area, I mean a single, little house. The one now inhabited by the other human alive, one Suzumiya Haruhi.

I can't tell how it happened, or even what really happened. According to my bookish alien friend (farewell, I will miss you so much), information leaked out to the wrong person. Suzumiya became acquainted with her true nature. At first, I wondered what kind of world would be created by this wild girl; I was waiting for alien invasions from planets with undecipherable names, heroes with tight clothing battling them; I expected for physics to reverse, for unknown particles to manifest, for all stop signs to disappear; I wanted sliders, parallel worlds, cute time travellers falling into my lap; I craved ghosts with forbidden knowledge, philosophers with crazed eyes spouting nonsense for hours on end, world leaders crawling at the feet of the SOS Brigade, which would be (of course) armed to the teeth with giant robots and spacecrafts; I wanted to see your world, Haruhi. Why, why, why then did you do this, you idiot ?

The question burned into my mind, as I hopped up over the fence surrounding the quiet little home. The door was open, thanks maybe to her constant disregard for privacy. Her room was easy to find. If by "easy" you mean "follow the only existing stair to the only existing room, amidst pulsating darkness". I'll gladly admit that I waited for untold minutes at the door of her bedroom. I'm no hero, I'll say, and this girl was already a handful without the terrible world-ending circumstances. My heart pounded, my throat became dry.

But then my thoughts wandered on my comrades, no, my friends. If this place taught me something, is that I cherished them. Yeah, I was doing this for them, but also for you. Idiot, can't you see they liked you? Why?

I opened the door, and what I saw made me wince. Picture this: this girl used to be always on the move, her mind thirsty for ideas and experiences. When we met she (litteraly, I will stress) shook me up and forced me to partake in the most idiotic, crazy capers humanity can imagine. And there she was, huddled on her bed, in her school uniform, her hair undone, and an empty expression on her face. Were I not full of pity, I'd have called her a hikikomori, and she'd have smacked me on the head for that. No, it was not pity, it was fear. Fear that this smack would not come, and that I would have lost her forever along with this world.

Rubbing my eyes (I had something caught in them), I waited for her reaction. She rolled on the bed to face me, and she lazily acknowledged my presence with her golden eyes.

"Kyon, you came. Why?" Her voice was defeated. It did not sound like her at all. This stung me hard, like the worst betrayals always do, and I lost my cool.

"WHY, you ask? Shouldn't I be asking that? Look around you, hell, look at you! All this... this was not what you.. no what WE wanted!"

She did not react much to my outburst. She egoistically chuckled to herself, as if she knew everything. This reminded me of the Haruhi of old, the one before the SOS Brigade; the lonely young girl who turned her back on the rest of the world. My heart sank as she answered.

"Eh. What's the point? Everything was a lie. You know I did all this."

Now, I hate nihilism. I used to always wish for a normal life (guess who showed me otherwise?), but I never ever enjoyed people drowning in sorrow and pity. Even in a philosophical sense, I just can't wrap my head around it; who cares who is our god and what is reality if our everyday life is, at the very worst, tolerable? To hear this from those lips was crushing. I guess I really had something in my eye, because the itch was only strengthening.

I didn't answer and she didn't continue. For a while we seemed like total strangers. A cheeky mind (get out of my head again, you grinning maniac, you're gone) would say old lovers. She rolled back into her bed without a word.

At a loss for words, I tried to find a way to engage her. Gee, why do I always have to do all the work when it comes to her? But It's not like I couldn't understand her at all. Her world must have crashed down like a child's dream, when she realised everything came from her mind. The Brigade, of course, but also this world she was slowly coming to enjoy for what it was worth. My mind wandered to happier times: her, smiling as she realized her "grand purpose in life" was bullying us in her search for excitement; her, solving a crappy murder mystery; her, sweating, giving her all in the concert at this year's festival; her, crying out for companionship under that tree. Us, kissing in a world that never would be.

I did not want to lose her. I would not allow her close down on those feelings like this.

I stepped forward, close to the bed, and put my hand on her shoulder. As if in a trance, I yanked her out of the bed and hugged her tight. She was soft and warm, and instantly the embrace felt right in my mind. I hugged her strongly, as if the whole world depended on it (I know it did, but that's not the point). Her touch was intoxicating.

I said nothing, for she understood. She just trembled in my arms, tears flowing.

"Haruhi, is this a lie?"

She sobbed, and hugged me tight.

"Is my touch a lie too? Are my feelings lies?"

"Kyon."

Her voice was cold and sad.

"Can you promise me you are not doing this because I wished for it? That you would have done it before I knew I could influence you?"

She paused. I couldn't dare to interrupt her.

"That you're not someone I created out of boredom?"

My mouth became dry. Yes, I had thought of this, there was no way—

"I promise."

I cried and hugged again, but there was no one else to hug. The scent, the touch of Kyon was gone, being only traces of my own my wishful thinking. Him, his feelings, and my friends, and everything, they were mere puppets under my fingers. A story I wrote. What good times did we have? I did not earn their friendship. Now I was, once more alone in my room, the only one that ever lived.

I know the only thing left to do i