Friday Evening (7:37PM) 

Now within the cramped cabin, Adam dropped the heavy bags in the bedroom, his shoulders aching. Cece faced opposing him, longingly looking outside a cracked window at the same orange landscape. The small, dingy room proudly displayed two twin sized beds and a dusty wooden fan, all dimly outlined by the evening.

“Adam”, she began, "don't ruin this weekend for me.  I don't care what my mother said to you- whatever you two talk about- I need this. This may be the last time I see my friends before I leave, and I just want to have a good time with them- with you.”

He recoiled slightly at her words, thankful she was facing away. He knew the time they had was limited, as fighting back against her multi-yearlong plan was futile. He walked towards the window, with the floors creaking beneath. Leaning against the frail wall, he looked at her, every individual person’s wants and needs clouding his mind. Her mother trusted him to break the news, their friends unsure of the viability of the trip, and himself, wrestling with the thought of losing her forever.

She met his gaze, returning a timid, unsure smile. “I really hope I can see them…” She said, shifting nervously. “Did you double check that you sent the invitation? I don't want them to be late… this is just… really important.” She bit her nails as she spoke, her anxieties seemingly getting the best of her.He extended his hands to meet hers, forcing a comforting smile. Just as suddenly as the anger in her welled, it was gone. 

Ignoring his invitation, Cece advanced towards him, wrapping her arms around him, burying her face into the side of his neck. She began to silently sob, the tears beginning to dampen his shirt.

He didn't move- he didn't dare-  although he was too stunned to provide any other remedy than a warm body to hold. Neither of the two were exceptionally affectionate, either emotionally or physically. Something about the crisis nulled the emotions, with people too exhausted or stressed to feel anything besides grief. 

She had embraced him with an unfamiliar fervor, holding him closer than he’d ever been to another person before. He felt strong, or at least strong enough to have her trust instilled in him. He steadied his breath, nervously resting his arms on her back, feeling her shake and heave as she struggled to speak. 

“Is…, is he really gone?” she whispered in between sniffles. He paused, unsure of what to say. 

“...im holding out on hope, just like you are…- but she- your mother, she just wanted me to break the news that they found his shuttle empty and destroyed by the moon’s-” She pressed her head into his collarbone, presumably signaling him to end his rant. He let her cry, gently tightening his arms around her to remind her of her safety- despite everything. 

She adjusted her grasp as she ruminated, as if exploring his back for the first time. He let her hold on, caressing her slightly, still unsure of what would help. Minutes passed as the sun lay, light slipping from the room. He felt her demeanor slowly calm, pacifying in his grasp. 

She let out a deep sigh as she gently pushed away to look at him, her swollen eyes failing to make her look less stunning. 

“I'm sorry. It's a lot of pressure, and sometimes I just doubt myself, and-” she started.

“I understand,” he cooed, placing a hand on her cheek as she sniffled. Lines from his shirt managed to make small imprints on her face, ones he gently smoothed with his thumb. Her face felt warm, emanating from the soreness of her buried sobs.

She gently held onto his hand, pressing it against her cheek, accepting the warmth. They stared as the light disappeared fully, her watery eyes catching the stars throughout the window. Seemingly lulled by his presence, she leaned forward, placing a hand on his chest, eyes bouncing between his lips and eyes. 

Shocked, Adam recoiled slightly, loosening the grasp he had on her body, realizing their position. 

She's very clearly not thinking straight, this is a bad, bad, bad, idea… he thought, mentally wrestling between all that was, and all they could be.