Won't

There’s a bright streak of red trying to pierce the ashen grey of the clouds, flashing hints of crimson as they shift across the sky.

Red sky at night, shepherds' delight. Red sky in the morning, shepherds' warning. That’s what his mum used to say.

Rain is coming. Good. The land needs some rain.

The clouds blink, the red flashing like a blood-shot iris. The rising sun sheds bleeding light across the sky. He’s enamoured by the beauty.

“You’ll cut off the circulation like that.”

Theo’s brows knit together into a soft frown. Slowly, he looks down to the chain tightly wrapped around his index finger.

“It’s already going white,” Mia adds, setting her plate of half-eaten pigeon down on the crumbling cinderblock beside her. “It’ll be bad if you have to lose a finger. You need two fully functioning hands for this kind of environment.”

“You could survive with only one functioning hand.” He begins to unwind the chain.

“I could, yeah. Someone else could maybe, but you specifically? I doubt you could given how clumsy you are already.” It’s a soft jab, a gentle poke in the ribs from a friend who means no real harm. Mia’s just trying to coax a smile out of him.

The world had ended roughly three years ago. It hadn’t been a grand affair as was so often heralded by apocalypse fanatics. It was small, quick, and unexpected. Seven months ago Theo ran into Mia amongst the rubble and desolation of St. James’ Park. In a last-ditch hunt for something edible amongst the parkland of London, he’d instead found a friend and travelling companion, albeit one that he isn’t always fond of.

Sliding off the bronze statue head she’s perched upon, Mia chucks a couple more twigs and small logs onto the fire before gently warming her hands in front of the flames.

The head belonged to Laurence Olivier. “That’s Laurence Olivier,” Mia had loudly announced once they’d climbed down the side of the bridge and landed in theatre avenue. “He was a famous actor.”

“Yes, I know who Laurence Oliver is,” Theo retorted. He couldn’t name any of Olivier’s productions or anything he’d acted in, but he at least knew the man’s name. “Where’s his head?”

By the looks of it, some unhappy survivors had taken an axe to the statue and lopped off Olivier’s head. Luckily for Theo and Mia it made quite the comfortable seat from where it sat, lying on one side, a few feet away from its body.

“I’d never thought you’d be a necklace kinda guy.” Mia’s voice pulls Theo out of his thoughts, and he finally gives her his full attention. “A bracelet guy, maybe, but not necklaces. But hey, who am I to judge?” She gestures, with ring covered hands, to the four necklaces that dangle at varying lengths from her neck. “If you want necklaces though there are better ones than that. I mean, that was probably a five-pound purchase from Claire’s. What you want is some proper crystal jewellery, like quartz or jasper or whatever, the kind you get from those witchy shops you see everywhere nowadays.”

“I don’t want crystals,” Theo sighs, running his fingers over the shallow engravings of the locket. It’s not style he wants, it’s the feel of the metal against his fingers, the smell it leaves when he puts it back around his neck. It’s the weight of the heart-shaped locket against his chest when they walk the fractured streets of the capital. “I want this.”

Mia is right though. The locket is cheap and tacky. He isn’t even sure if it’s actually made of metal or whether it’s just plastic painted silver. It feels cold when he presses it to his lips though, so he presumes it’s metal, but still.

“It’s the only thing I’ve got left.”

“Oh, so it means a lot then?” In a blur Mia lurches forwards, tears the necklace from his grasp, springs up and dashes away towards the railing that separates them from the Thames.

“Give it back!” He’s on his feet in an instance. He rushes to her side, grabs the railings and reaches a hand out for the necklace she now holds suspended above the water. “Give it back. This isn’t funny.”

“What would you do if I dropped it?”

“Don’t.”

“I won’t, I’m just curious. If I dropped this, what would you do?”

“Mia. Please.”

“It’s a simple question…” Her mischievous, wicked smile softens. She looks to the necklace, watches as it swings gently back and forth. Back and forth.

“Mia.” There is panic in his voice. She’s crossed the line now. She’s overstepped. And she knows it. That’s the look she gets every time she knows she’s gone too far.

Looking back to Theo, Mia meets his eyes and sighs. “Okay. I’m sorry. Here.”

Sploosh.

Neither person moves. Neither one of them want to be the first to look away.

Theo’s eyes are wide, his lips parted in shock and horror.

Mia looks at the empty chain in her hand, to the end that dangles freely in the air, the end the locket so easily slid off. “Theo, I –“

Mustering all of his strength, all of his might, Theo shoves Mia backwards. His hands connect with her shoulders, push her back as far as they can.

She stumbles, weight off balance, takes a few steps back as Theo takes her place at the railings.

He stares down into the murky waters of the Thames. His body shakes with every breath as he grips the railings tighter, and tighter.

“Theo, I… I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to. I…”

“That was the last thing I had of him.”

“Of who?”

“Of Dan!” Whirling round, Theo screams the words at Mia as if roaring like thunder would bring the locket back. He clenches his fists at his sides, glares at her with fire in his eyes. “That was Dan’s locket. Dan gave it to me and now you’ve lost it!”

“Dan? Why did… why did Dan give you…?”

“Because he loved me, that’s why. Dan loved me!”

His sudden accidental reunion with Mia in St. James’s Park had been a partial relief. Mia and he had gone to school together. They’d grown up together. Seeing Mia trying to catch ducks at the duck pond had filled his heart with joy. For a brief moment of time there had been the flicker of hope that Dan, Mia’s brother, was alive and surviving somewhere in London. But Dan was dead, and Mia was alone.

“Dan loved you? But he… he wasn’t gay.” Mia’s trying to wrap her head around it all. She’s trying and failing. She blinks her gaze down, frowns deeply. “Was he?”

“He loved me, and he gave me that stupid necklace before all this happened.” Throwing out an arm, Theo gestures to the ruined city around them, to the abandoned boats docked at the sides of the Thames, to the stationary London Eye and the empty ashen skies devoid of bird or plane. “Why couldn’t you have just left me alone?”

“I… I didn’t…”

Theo walks away. He strides towards the National Theatre and doesn’t stop until Mia is far out of sight.

Nights are dangerous. Night is when dangers creep out of the derelict buildings and stalk the streets, cloaked in shadows, invisible under the cold light of the moon. Fire keeps you safe, and as Theo sits on Olivier’s head, bathed in the golden orange glow, he thinks about Dan. He holds out his hand, remembers the gentle brush of Dan’s fingers as they pass each other in the corridors of the maths department, or the smell of his deodorant in the boys changing rooms. He can see Dan’s hair, glowing like white fire in the summer sun as he races round the rounders pitch having hit the ball to kingdom-come. Dan is beautiful. Dan is glowing and golden, full of laughter and songs.

They’d been together when it happened. When it all came to a stop. They’d seen the fire, heard the sirens. Theo had panicked, he needed to go home, to check on his mum and dad. Dan had nodded, said he’d come and find Theo at his house. They each ran their separate ways, shoving their way through crowds of panicked people. That was the last time Theo ever saw Dan.

He just wishes that he’d done different. He wishes he’d grabbed Dan’s hand, held it tight and said, “come with me. Stay with me. Don’t go.” He wishes he’d kissed him. Just once. He wishes.

Opening his eyes, Theo turns his attention to Mia who now stands beside him. “What do you want?”

Swallowing, she holds her closed fist out and uncurls her fingers. “I know it’s not the same, and I know I can’t replace the old one, but I’m sorry.”

Placed neatly in the centre of her palm is a small silver metal heart made of bent and twisted wire. A cage locket, the chain curled around it.

Lifting his gaze to her face, Theo frowns. “You made this?”

“Yeah. Those pliers we found came in handy.”

With gentle fingers, he plucks the locket from her palm and holds it in his own.

“I really am sorry. I never intended to drop it. I was just… I don’t even know what I was doing.” Slipping onto the floor, Mia draws her knees to her chest and stares into the fire.

Theo gently unhooks the clasp, fastens the necklace round his neck, feels the weight of the locket against his chest. “I forgive you.”

“You do? Why?”

“There are more important things than five-pound lockets from Claire’s.”

“But Dan, he…”

“I’ll always remember Dan. I don’t need a locket for that.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods, opens his arms wide.

She joins him on Olivier’s head, wraps her arms round his waist as he drapes his over her shoulders.

As they hug, Theo stares into the fire. He won’t tell her about the photograph inside the locket. He won’t tell her about that. He won’t tell her about how beautiful Dan’s smile was in that photo, how radiant he was. He won’t tell her. He won’t.