if the world's ending tomorrow, I just want to spend today with you

Rating: T
Pairing: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb

Summary: "Hermann's prediction of the double event, and how they deal with it."


The tap tap tap of water dripping from the leaky tap into the sink is like a white-noise to Hermann, providing a canvas for his mind to paint a flurry of thoughts over; exhaustion does nothing to slow it––he feels, at the same time, limitless and trapped.

"Hey, man, you okay?" Newtis at his side, hand hovering over his shoulder, and Hermann slumps against him, suddenly no longer able to support himself. "Herman? Herms?"

Hermann takes a second to appreciate the warmth against his cheek, the grounding presence of Newt against him. Behind him, his chalkboards are covered in barely-legible scribbles, unintelligible to the untrained eye, but to Hermann, they mean one thing.

"We're all going to die," he croaks hoarsely. Newt stills at his side.

"Well, given that death is part of the cycle of life, yeah," he says weakly, but there's an apprehension behind the light-hearted words.

"A double event," Hermann continues hollowly. "A double event, then a triple event, and then––" he cuts himself off, and Newt wraps an arm around his shoulder, rubbing his back in soothing circles, and Hermann stares off blankly into the middle-distance. "I just––I thought everything would work out, but it didn't."

Newt laughs, soft and sad. "Yeah. Yeah, it looks like that doesn't it?"

Hermann fiddles with the sleeve of his shirt, lets out a soft sigh. "I…I don't know what I was expecting, honestly––we're fighting a losing battle, and somehow I thought––" he pauses. "Well. I…"

"You thought we could get a normal life," Newt fills in. "Yeah, I…I feel you. I mean, like, neither of us are the type to go in for a stereotypical "three-bed one bath white-picket-fence two-point-five kids and a dog" deal but…" He takes one of Hermann's hands in his own. "Hey," he says. "How much have we got until then?"

Hermann closes his eyes, sees the image of the blackboards seared against his mind's eye. "Three months, two days," he replies.

Newt grins. "See? We've got three months, babe––let's make the best of it, yeah?" He presses a kiss to the top of Hermann's head. Hermann lets out a huff, but a smile's tugging at his own lips––Newt is right; regardless of whether or not they die, they've got some time on their hands, and moping about it the entire time is no good.

"Well," he says, "you always did want me to go on a ferris wheel with you."

"That's the spirit!"