T-Minus 0: The Day of Reckoning

The morning light seeps through the blinds in soft golden streaks, cutting across the room in quiet beams. It’s warm against your skin, but it does nothing to chase away the cold weight settling in your chest. You don’t move—not yet. You just lie there, feeling Liam’s slow, steady breathing against the back of your neck, the rise and fall of his chest pressed to your back. He’s still asleep, arm slung lazily over your waist, fingers curled slightly against your stomach like even in unconsciousness, he refuses to let go.

But today is the day he has to.

You take a slow, deep breath. The air feels heavier, thicker. Today isn’t just another morning. Today isn’t just another lazy, comfortable start where you roll over, tangle yourself around Liam, and steal kisses until he’s awake enough to give them back.

Today is the day.

The end of the curse. The end of this.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the sheets, and for the first time in weeks, you feel the distinct and unfamiliar tremor of nerves. You should be happy, right? The whole point of this goddamn nightmare was to end it. To go back to normal. To go back to—

Liam shifts behind you, a slow, groggy movement. Then, a sleepy hum vibrates against your shoulder, and his lips brush absentmindedly against the back of your neck. "Mmm. Too early. Go back to sleep," he mutters, voice thick with morning haze.

Your throat tightens. "Liam...”

Something in your tone makes him stir fully, and within seconds, he’s awake. "Hey." His voice is softer now, more alert. His hand slides up your arm, and when you finally roll over to face him, his eyes meet yours—clear, steady. "It’s today."

You nod. "It’s today."

For a long moment, neither of you say anything. You just stare at each other, taking in the weight of it all. His messy curls, his half-lidded gaze, the sleepy warmth in his face that will be gone in a few minutes when the full gravity of the morning settles in. You want to hold onto it, to freeze this exact moment before reality crashes down on you both.

"You okay?" he asks, voice careful.

You exhale sharply. "I don’t know."

Liam nods slowly, like he understands completely, like he feels it too. "Yeah."

You swallow past the lump in your throat, pushing yourself up on one elbow. "What if this is it?" Your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. "What if we really forget?"

Liam doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering against your cheek. "Then I guess… we won’t know what we lost."

Your eyes burn, but you **** a wobbly smirk. "That’s kinda depressing, babe."

"What, you want me to lie and say we’ll magically remember everything?" He huffs softly. "Look, I don’t know what’s gonna happen. Maybe we wake up tomorrow and we have no clue we ever did this. Maybe we wake up and it’s awkward as hell. Either way... today still happened."

You swallow hard. "And that’s supposed to make me feel better?"

"I don’t know," he admits. "But we’ve got today. And that’s something."

Silence settles between you again, heavier this time, and you know—you know—that if you don’t say it now, you never will. So you take a breath, deep and bracing, and push yourself up fully, straddling him before you can second-guess yourself. His hands instinctively land on your waist, fingers warm and familiar.

"Liam," you start, voice barely steady. "I love you. And I don’t just mean in the way that we joke about or the way that makes us laugh. I mean it in the real, terrifying, gut-wrenching way that makes me scared to let you go."

His fingers twitch against your skin, and for once—for once—he doesn’t have a joke ready.

"Even if this ends today," you continue, voice thick, "even if we forget, even if tomorrow we go back to being just us—I need you to know that I—this version of me—loved you. That’s not going anywhere, even if we do."

A tear spills onto your cheek, and you’re about to swipe at it when Liam reaches up first, thumb brushing it away before he cups your face fully. His grip is firm, grounding, as if he can keep you here just by holding on tight enough. "Hey," he says, voice lower now, rougher. "We’ve got today."

"Just today."

"Then let’s make it a good one."

Your breath shudders out of you, and before you can say anything else, his lips crash against yours. It’s ****, urgent, like he’s trying to sear the moment into both of you before time rips it away. You melt against him, hands tangling in his hair, fingers tightening at the nape of his neck.

The kiss is long, slow, deep—like if you just keep going, maybe the universe will decide not to take it away from you. You feel the way he grips your hips, the way his fingers flex, like he’s memorizing the shape of you, the way your body molds against his. Your heart is pounding, your chest is tight, and for the first time in a long time, you’re scared.

When you finally pull back, your forehead rests against his, and you don’t even bother wiping your cheeks. His thumbs do it for you, rubbing slow circles into your skin. "I love you too," he murmurs. "Not just in the ‘sexy girlfriend’ way or the ‘goddamn, I want to rail you’ way—although, obviously, those are also true—but in the ‘I actually don’t know what my life looks like without you’ way."

You **** on a wet laugh, shaking your head. "God, you’re such a dumbass."

"Yeah, but I’m your dumbass. At least for another few hours."

You pull him in for another kiss, and this one is just as deep, just as all-consuming. But eventually, eventually, reality starts nudging at the edges.

Liam sighs, shifting beneath you. "So. Big, important, life-altering day ahead."

You groan. "Don’t remind me."

"Aw, come on." He grins, stretching. "Let’s make the most of your last day as my hot girlfriend. We can grab breakfast, maybe even hold hands a little, really live it up. Ooh, what about a goodbye blowjob? That seems like an important tradition."

"Liam—"

"Oh! Even better—how about we get matching tattoos? You can get ‘Daddy’s Girl’ on your ass, and I’ll get ‘I hit that’ on my thigh."

You smack his arm, snorting. "Jesus Christ—okay, enough."

He just grins, rolling out of bed and stretching. "Alright, sweetheart, let’s go face the end of the world."

And so, with a deep breath and a shaky exhale, you get up. Because no matter what happens today—no matter who you wake up as tomorrow—you’re not ready to say goodbye.

The sheets are still warm when you pull yourself out of bed, the air hitting your bare skin in a way that makes you shiver. Liam’s already up, stretching his arms behind his head as he trudges toward the bathroom with all the grace of a hungover bear. You trail behind him, and for a moment, it’s like every other morning—the easy rhythm of two best friends getting on with their day.

Except, it’s not just any morning. It’s the last one.

Liam flicks on the bathroom light, the soft yellow glow filling the small space as you both squeeze in, maneuvering around each other in the cramped quarters you’ve shared for so long. He grabs his toothbrush from the holder, and you do the same, standing side by side in front of the mirror, shoulders brushing. It’s familiar—this simple, mundane routine. The mindless comfort of it.

But as you squeeze toothpaste onto your brush and bring it to your lips, your mind is far from blank. Your body reminds you of exactly what happened last night.

A dull ache lingers between your thighs, a delicious soreness, a deep, satisfied throb in places you still haven’t gotten used to feeling sore. Every shift of your hips sends a ghost of sensation through you, a lingering reminder of Liam’s hands gripping them tight, holding you down as he fucked you into the mattress one last time.

Your gaze flickers to the mirror, catching Liam’s reflection. He’s brushing lazily, one hand scratching at his stomach as he zones out in the mirror. Completely oblivious to the way your brain is replaying last night in vivid, X-rated detail.

You press your thighs together, sucking in a slow breath through your nose as a shiver runs up your spine.

God, last night…

It had started slow, so slow, like neither of you wanted to rush, like you both knew this was it and you had to savor every second. You’d kissed him everywhere, trailing your lips down his stomach, nipping at his hip bones, until you were on your knees between his legs, licking up the length of his cock, tasting him on your tongue. His fingers had curled in your hair, his voice wrecked as he groaned your name—fuck, you’re so good at that—before you took him all the way down, his hips jerking as you swallowed around him.

And that had just been the start.

You had ridden him next, slow and deep, rocking your hips in a lazy grind as you leaned down to kiss him, your tongues tangling in something messy and ****. His hands had been everywhere—your hips, your back, gripping your ass as he lifted you, controlling the pace until slow wasn’t enough anymore. Until you were bouncing on his cock, moaning his name like a prayer, rolling your hips to grind your clit against him, chasing the high you knew you wouldn’t be able to get enough of.

And then he’d flipped you over.

Your breath hitches slightly at the memory of his hands bracing against your waist, pulling your ass back against him as he fucked you deep, the obscene slap of skin on skin echoing through the room. His grip had been so tight, his fingers digging into your flesh as he ruined you, the angle so perfect you were trembling by the time he spilled inside you. And then, as if he hadn’t already wrecked you enough, he’d pulled you back up, flipped you onto your back, and kissed you as he fucked it all deeper, as you moaned into his mouth and clung to him like you’d never get to have this again.

Because you wouldn’t.

You blink, snapping back to the present, realizing you’ve been standing there, toothbrush hanging from your lips, zoned out in the filthiest mental replay of your life. Liam side-eyes you in the mirror, brows raised.

“Damn, you good?” he asks, his words garbled through a mouthful of foam.

You clear your throat, heart hammering, and shove your toothbrush back in your mouth. “Fine,” you mumble, cheeks warming.

“Sure. You were making a real intense face just now. Almost looked like you were—”

“Liam, shut the fuck up.”

He grins, spitting into the sink. “I mean, I get it. I did fuck you stupid last night.”

You ****, toothpaste nearly going up your nose. Liam just pats your back so patronizingly you consider shoving him through the bathroom door. Instead, you swat at him, rinsing out your mouth before fixing him with a glare.

“You’re done here. Leave.”

He puts his hands up in surrender, smirking as he backs out of the bathroom. “Fine, fine. I’ll go be handsome elsewhere.”

You shut the door in his stupid, smug face and exhale hard, running a hand through your hair. Jesus.

With a sigh, you strip out of your clothes, letting them drop to the floor before stepping into the shower. The hot water cascades down your body, and for a moment, you just stand there, letting the warmth soothe the dull ache in your muscles, washing away the evidence of last night.

Your hands trail over your body, fingertips gliding over curves that—months ago—you never could have imagined being yours. You cup your breasts, watching the way they move, the way water drips from your nipples, running down the soft slope of your stomach, over the swell of your hips. You drag your hands down your thighs, feeling the smooth skin, the shape that’s become so familiar.

This might be the last time I see myself like this.

The thought settles heavy in your chest, an inescapable truth.

And yet…

Your fingers twitch against your stomach, nails tracing small patterns over your skin as your mind drifts.

I hope this plan works.

You exhale slowly, eyes flickering toward the fogged-up glass of the shower door. It has to.

The water keeps running, steaming up the small bathroom, mist curling in soft tendrils along the mirror. You stay there for a while, letting the heat seep into your bones, letting the water wash away everything.

And when you finally step out, wrapping a towel around yourself, the weight in your chest feels heavier than before.

Because this is it.

The last day. The final stretch.

And everything hinges on what happens next.