It was always the same, and it was almost every night. Everything, even the wind itself, seemed to flee. A horrible silence accompanied a beautiful glimmer in the sky, sparkling like some kind of gemstone being held up against the sun. How strange for something so terrible to look so grand. Then, one last moment of normalcy. A clear blue sky, overtaken a moment later with a painfully bright flash of light, a deafening roar, and a wave of dust and fire. Not even debris remained after, as if nothing had ever even been there in the first place.
A white pterodactyl shot up from their bed, a brief scream escaping their mouth. A cold sweat was dripping from their scales, and the sheets and blanket were soaked. It had all felt so real, like it was so much more than a vivid dream. But it was a dream. Definitely.
The ptero rose to their feet, barely avoiding tripping over a pile of clothes that had been thrown about sometime prior as they approached the door. Once they got to the bathroom, the white-scaled figure closed the door, turned the light on, and took a good look in the mirror. It was weird seeing themselves like this, without any makeup on and with their eyes puffy and red from apparently crying during the dream. They washed their face in the sink, then exhaled heavily and stared into the mirror. And then, the light flickered a little, turned completely off, and then back on; the ptero’s amber eyes glistened in the reflection much like the sky did in their dream.
“It was only a dream, Fang,” the anthro dinosaur said aloud. “Just a dream…”
“I mean, what’s the point?” A pink velociraptor shrugged his shoulders as he sat at his desk. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, exhaling with apparant boredom. “Why are we even still going to classes? We should be spending time with our families or doing what makes us happiest. Not this.”
“Why are you even still coming to class yourself then?” a peach-colored parasaurolophus asked. “Some of us still care about our futures.”
“Dunno, I’m bored, I guess. And the only future you’ve got left is, one way or another, blazin’,” Reed smirked, then pretended to take a big puff from an invisible joint. “So, live it up while you can.”
In between a couple of murmurs and groans from the class, Fang raised their hand. All they wanted to do was get away from this uncomfortable conversation, especially before Ms. Roberts could go on her standard rant of how the asteroid was not a big deal, hit or miss.
“I, uh, need to use the bathroom,” they terrupted.
Ms. Roberts closed her mouth as soon as it had opened, and a look of realization and understanding slowly etched its way onto her face. She sighed, then pulled a rectangular piece of wood from her desk with the word “Pass” etched into it, and held it out.
Of course, that wasn’t really the intent.
Outside, behind Volcano High, Fang took a deep inhale from a lit joint, something that Reed sometime before had given them. “Fuck it,” the ptero whispered, “he’s kinda right…” The sensation of lightheadedness and subtle euphoria began to overtake Fang’s senses, a smile creeping on their face, “Ah, that’s better…”
It was like someone came into the room and simply turned the lightswitch off.
Fang blinked. Once, twice, three times, as if expecting that the sun would be back out after that. “H-huh?” The ptero looked about, trying to tell if they had perhaps passed out and night had fallen, but the warmth in between their fingers still lingered, and the stench of the weed hitting their nose. “Nope, still awake… I think?”
Not only was it night, but the school looked in shambles, as if decades had passed by and no one had done any maintenance. Windows were cracked, colors faded, and bricks had crumbled. Not knowing what else to do, Fang brought the joint back to their lips, took a puff, shrugged, and walked into the school.
It didn’t look much better inside. None of the lights were on, vegetation grew inside the hallways, and almost none of the flyers usually plastered all over the walls remained. Feeling as if guided by something else, perhaps just some lingering sense of trying to get back to class, Fang went back to Ms. Roberts’ room.
Of course, almost nothing really remained inside. It looked much like the deserted landscape outside, as did the rest of the building. A couple desks that barely held together after an untold number of years, parts of the roof in the room coming apart, tiles on the floor simply missing, the windows all busted out ages ago.
Not knowing what else to do, Fang walked to one of the only desks and chairs still remaining and plopped down right into it. Instantly and unsurprisingly, the chair snapped and fell apart, the ptero landing hard on their ass with a painful impact. They dropped and lost their joint as well.
“Damn it!” Fang barked. They dusted themselves off and stood back up, frustration overtaking them a bit. They wondered why they were here, when the dream would stop, and what the hell Reed had put in that weed.
Then, Fang’s eyes slowly surveyed the room, and rested on the chalkboard at the front, graffiti covering it in parts, but a line on it that they recognized as their own handwriting, and a phrase they wrote before. Part of a song they hadn’t finished quite yet.
“Never gonna see the end?” Fang said aloud, reading it. Then, they yelled, “Looks like the end around here to me, doesn’t it?!” They picked up a piece of the broken chair and threw it at the chalkboard.
Before the sound of the broken wood hitting the chalkboard could be heard, Fang found themselves back outside their school. It wasn’t run down, the sky was the same daylight as before, with a few clouds going by with the unusual and weird sparkles lingering that people had simply gotten sort of used to. And it wasn’t until now that Fang had realized how cold that dream had been. The scales on their skin had goosebumps, and it felt like going from taking a walk outside in freezing weather to cannonballing into a hot jacuzzi. The sensations of feelings came back, and it hurt like hell. Fang gritted their teeth and fell to their knees, the pain too great to scream or even breathe.
They curled into a fetal position, seeing the fallen, burnt-out joint. It was burnt down to almost nothing at this point, even though it seemed like it had been lit only a minute or so ago, aside from the dream. How long had it really lasted?
With a shaking hand, Fang pulled out their phone and texted Reed. “What the hell did you put in that batch?”
It didn’t take too long for a reply to come in. “What are you talking about? Also, are you coming back to class or what?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Fang growled as they typed it. “What did you put in that weed you gave me?”
“It’s just normal weed, man. Why, you having a bad time? You did quit for awhile, maybe your tolerance is really low?” Reed responded.
Fang gave up trying to talk to Reed about this after that, grunting and rolling their eyes as their senses began to go back to normal. “Stupid fucking anthropomorphic off-brand dino egg oatmeal son of a…” The variety of colorful language continued, becoming something incoherent altogether as they vented their frustration.
After taking a moment for a deep breath, Fang texted again. “You made a good point about things, though, even if we don’t know for sure what’s going to happen. So, screw it, I’m going home and relaxing. Maybe we can hang out with the gang later.”
Reed simply replied with an ‘okay’ sign emoji.
Fang closed the door of the bedroom and plopped their backpack on the ground. The sun still shone into the bedroom; the day still young. They closed their eyes, and took a long moment to simply stand there, listening to nothing in particular aside the faint sound of wind rustling leaves and grass outside. After a deep breath, Fang exhaled, opened their eyes, and sat down in their computer chair.
Music. That’s something that always drowned out the sounds and feelings of problems, they thought. Smiling for the first genuine time in a few days, Fang reached over and grabbed an acoustic guitar. After a couple a few strums and clearing their throat, they hummed and sang softly, alone and in solitude, away from the rumors, the stories, the news, and the classes that didn’t matter. Grades, colleges, the asteroid - screw all that, they had songs to work on and big plans.
An ugly sound came from the guitar, and Fang opened their eyes, looking down. Did a string pop? No, it was fine. Fang plucked and strummed a few more times, but it sounded all wrong, causing them to raise an eyebrow. At that moment, a cloud must have moved a bit, letting more light come through the bedroom window, a little bit of the heavenly sparkle from the sky shining down over the guitar, and despite the visual scenery, a terribly eerie feeling filled Fang. They gritted their teeth, and felt… something. Like, a voice without any sound to it whispering in their ear.
With shaking hands, Fang played. It wasn’t like being possessed, it was like playing a song they were incredibly out of practice from. It didn’t sound good, but the general structure of it was clearly something coherent. Sad, but happy and hopeful all at once. It felt so intensely familiar, but Fang was completely sure this was never something they had played or even thought about before, and it wasn’t something they heard once and then only vaguely recalled later when playing.
The sensation and playing went on for maybe twenty seconds, until Fang’s hands shook too much to continue. Almost as if afraid of the thing, they quickly put the guitar back down, stood up out of the chair and then stared back down at the instrument. They covered their mouth, looking at the harmless, quiet guitar, while their eyes watered and moistened the makeup on their face, causing it to run slightly. Somehow, Fang knew what it was, like remembering a dream. It didn’t make sense, though, but they knew. Images of the writing on the chalkboard from the dream flashed in their mind.
After a long moment and without even the bravery to make some witty comment to calm themself, Fang slowly backed away to the door, and quietly left, hoping that by closing the door, whatever nightmare, demon, curse, or whatever this was, would stay the hell away.
They then made the mistake of turning on the TV, as if that would get their minds off things.
Of course, it didn’t.
It was just more about the asteroid. “Of course it is,” Fang said, but decided to let it run and not turn the TV off.
“The overwhelming majority of scientists say the asteroid is more likely to miss than to hit, but one amateur astronomer is raising the alarm and claims that the chances of an impact are far more likely than commonly believed.”
Normally, Fang might ignore this. They would groan, walk away, check their social media, text a friend. But, perhaps out of boredom, perhaps because of recent experiences, they left the TV on and kept listening.
“Carl Stego…” Fang muttered, repeating the name the news anchors stated. Once the news segment ended, they stood up from the TV, turning it off before heading to their bedroom.
Fang pulled up the dino guy’s social media and posts online. The research ensued. The factoids rolled in, based on this Stego’s claims. How big the asteroid was, how fast it was coming in, how bad it would be on impact, regardless of where it hit. If it hits water, tsunami waves of up to 2.8 miles high, speeds of around 45,000 miles per hour on water, maybe 1,000 on land. How likely it is to hit. “All but certain,” the ptero read aloud.
The thoughts weighed heavy on Fang’s mind as they held their hands in their pockets, staring at the ground as they walked. The sun was long gone, the starry night sky with the aurora lights replacing its presence instead.
In the cool night, Fang showed up to the driveway, the garage door opened. A table was set out, a few people already sitting and waiting. Reed was there, waving and calling out. Trish, Sage, Naomi, Stella. The usuals.
It was really something they all needed. It began like it always did. Relaxing, friendly, jokes, stupid rolls that made no sense. Finding shiny useless junk, going through a hidden cave. Standard stuff, really. Until they fought what seemed like the final big bad, and all of their characters in the game got sucked up into a vortex.
“What I do know is that the world you left behind was saved. People will live and die happy lives, in peace, because of what you all did. They won’t remember you, or even know you existed, but they’ll be there because of you.” Reed’s words hung in the air, everyone staring at the center of the table as the candlelight dimmed and the cards, dice, and figures on the table remained unmoved.
“Is… is that it?” Sage asked.
Trish lowered her gaze. “We die?”
“Yeah,” Reed shrugged. “The end, I guess.”
Stella smiled, a bit sad. “Well, it was a great session, Reed.”
They all hug, even… kiss. Just on the cheeks, accompanied by a few blushes. Everyone is pretty open, what with the news saying the world is ending and the sky looking like some sort of snow globe at a disco.
“Uh, I’ve been trying to quit, but could you…” Fang began, eyeing behind themself to make sure that everyone else was gone or out of hearing range.
Reed simply raised up a calm hand to silence his friend, and had a knowing smile. He turned around and rummaged through a box seemingly full of props for LnL, then turned around and handed them a plastic bag filled with mushrooms. “It’s the best stuff. Harmless, but it’ll do a bit more than just take the edge off. Time to stop giving too much of a shit, you know?”
Fang chuckled, and nodded. “Hell yeah,” they said, taking the bag. “You’re the best, pink guy.”
“Just don’t spam my texts when you go on your very predictable trip,” Reed mocked playfully, waving to Fang as they both turned away from each other and called it a night.
“Damn it, not again,” Fang groaned, rolling their eyes. “Oh well, at least I did ask for it this time. Not your fault, Reed.”
It was a beautiful spring-like morning. A little bit of rain scent in the air, a very gentle breeze. Everything seemed… fine. Fang almost ignored it, not really taking it into account. But something stuck out. A lot.
The sky. It was normal. As in, before the asteroid had been approaching, wreaking havoc on their everyday lives.
“Huh,” Fang muttered to themself, blinking softly. “Well, that’s a first, dream or not.” Then, the ptero rose up from the grass, and looked about, finally taking into account the environment, realizing they were in their home’s front yard. So, with a shrug, they went into their house.
Some time ago, with these annoying dreams or visions, Fang stopped questioning or fighting them, or trying to force themself out of it. With simply a flail of their own hands into the air along with an eyeroll, they sighed and walked through the hallways of the home. But, something seemed off. It wasn’t as dirty as usual, for one. A few dishes are always left unattended on the kitchen counters, a bit of dust on tabletops, a few things on the ground.
Things seemed clean.
Fang continued to explore the house, walking up the stairs. As they walked up, their eyes stayed glued to the chronological pictures they saw. Familiar ones, of being young and seeing their-...
No.
They turned their gaze, straight down. That picture wasn’t there before. Who put it up? That wasn’t there. Ignore it.
Fang continued until they reached the stop of their staircase, and then went to their bedroom. Or what was supposed to be their bedroom.
A dark-colored pterodactyl male turned their head from a computer desk, looking over his shoulder with a raised eye.
Fang stood there, motionless. Wordless.
Dreams, am I right?
“Uh, yeah?” the male said. “What’s up?”
“...”
“... N…”
“N… Naser?” Fang finally whispered, choking. The word barely came out.
A wave of concern coming over the male’s face, he rose up and approached the white ptero. “Sib? You alright?” he asked, slowly raising his arms and resting them on their shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“I… missed you,” was all Fang managed to choke out.
He laughed. “We saw each other last night. We stayed up late barely sleeping while we binged watched crappy anime. What do you mean you missed me? It’s been literally, like, four hours.”
After failing to hold back a sniffle, Fang wiped away a tear from their eyes. “Really? It’s been that long?” they said with a joking tone.
Understanding something was up, but also understanding he didn’t need to know all the details, Naser seemed to simply accept his sibling needed him. “Yeah. Yeah, it has,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Fang.
After a long moment of holding each other, Fang finally spoke.
“What happened?”
“Hm?”
Fang pulled away slightly, and then cleared their throat. “The asteroid.”
“Uh?” Naser turned his head slightly, narrowing his gaze. “Reed give you something weird again?..” He had expected Fang to give an usual eyeroll and sarcastic comment, but he didn’t receive that.
“Naser, just, just answer. Please. I know it’s dumb, but just do it,” Fang whispered, practically begging.
Naser took a long moment, his jaw looking tight, but then nodded. “Well, alright. I begged you to not throw your life away and to flee the coast, like a sane person. You demanded that you be allowed to take fate into your own hands, though. Rage against the asteroid. Seemed to work, thing broke up as you did your solo in the sky. Got a pretty meteor shower. It was like something from a comic book.”
“Huh,” Fang said, listening very intently, then looked away. “What did I play?”
“Sib, you already know what you played,” Naser said with a voice demanding attention. “Tell me what’s going on. And don’t lie.”
Fang looked up, not knowing how to say the truth. “I…” Naser waited, but a slight angry look wrinkled their face as Fang hesitated. “... Naser, don’t worry. I just wanted to hear about it, like being told you did something good. Hearing a story back again, like some old war story. It’s cool, you know?”
Naser took a moment, then his face broke into a smile, and he chuckled. “... Yeah, it was pretty badass, wasn’t it?”
They laughed, and hugged.
“Yeah… It was,” Fang said, hiding the tear from their face as they nuzzled their brother’s arms. “I love you.”
Those were words Naser rarely heard, and somehow, he knew hearing them now was important. He simply accepted it, and squeezed his sibling tightly. “I love you, too.”
It faded after that. For the first and only time, Fang tried so hard to cling to that memory, to that… dream, world, whatever it was. Their mind weakened, cracked, and they found themselves back home. But the effort was for nothing, and the ptero found themself back in their room.
Fang lowered their head, their lips curling. Tears steadily streamed down, and they turned their head, gritting their fangs while digging their claws into their own scales, as if the pain of doing so would make the pain of the memories go away.
… It didn’t.
After a very long moment, Fang pulled their phone out, and texted the “Worm Drama” group chat. “Emergency band meeting.”
They met up by the beach, Fang tossing a few pieces of wood into the fire they had started. It didn’t take long for Reed and Trish to show up.
“Hey,” Fang said, not looking up quite yet, simply watching the flickering of the flames for the moment.
After a moment, the two fellow bandmates said in unison, “Hey.”
“What’s the matter?” Trish asked. “You said it was about something important for the band, but that it was also about the asteroid. But we already know-”
“There’s a lot more to it all, and it does matter for Worm Drama,” Fang interrupted. “Look, a lot of this isn’t going to make sense, but you two have been my friends forever. And if the world really might end, even if you think it’s only a maybe, then I want to be able to tell you about things that’s on my mind and that’s been happening without you judging me.”
Reed and Trish looked at one another, then shrugged.
“We’ve never been the judgmental types. You know that,” Trish said.
“Just blurt it out already and get it out there,” Reed followed.
Fang took a deep breath, and then spoke. Ranted, really. Not just about how Ms. Roberts was downplaying things in their classes, but what the astronomer Carl Stego said, and, finally, their dreams. If that’s in fact all they were.
“Well, that’s all quite fascinating,” Reed said, clearly uninterested. He had some time ago lit a joint in the fireplace before puffing on it. He reached over, offering it to Trish, who just blushed and looked a bit flustered at even being offered at all. Reed seemed to recognize the little purple one feeling pressured, and pulled the offer back before puffing again. “But can you tell us the point? If it hits and we die, then it hits and we die. And you’ve been hitting the substances a bit lately after having been off. Not that I blame you, but come on. You’ve just been having trips.”
Fang felt a bit of anger, frustration. The ptero didn’t know how to make them believe. They almost just shook their head and gave up, but then they opened up.
“I met Naser,” they finally said.
That did get the other two’s attention for a moment, but then Trish and Reed just looked awkward and sorry about something.
“Fang, I, don’t mean to be insensitive and stuff, but…” Trish trailed off, not sure how to finish that thought.
Reed did so for them. “Your brother’s dead. You didn’t meet him, unless maybe you also died.”
‘Or maybe if I will die,’ Fang thought. ‘Is that how this works?’
“Look, it doesn’t matter if you believe me or not, but I believe it, and you said you’d not judge me,” they said, a little sternly now. “He told me… Well, not outright, but he made me realize how to stop the asteroid.”
That makes the two others widen their eyes, but then Trish almost seemed angry.
“Fang, I love you,” she said, “but this is getting, like, kind of sick. End of the world or not, you can’t use the memory of your brother to emotionally manipulate people. Especially your friends.”
“Yeah, man,” Reed said. “Kinda not cool.”
“Please,” Fang asked, tears starting to well in their eyes. The sincerity cut the other two bandmates’ off. “Maybe I’m just snapping, maybe it’s the crap I’ve been using to escape thinking about this, or maybe it’s real. But if that stupid thing kills us all, even if it were only a dream, do you expect me to not try anyways? Why wouldn’t I? What are scientists going to do? They can’t blow the thing up, they can’t push it out of the way, and we can’t go anywhere else. Come on.
“We’re not just a highschool band, and we’re not just the band with my friends in it. We’re the greatest fuckin’ highschool band in history!” Fang shouted, raising a fist up. “And if the scientists and government can’t stop the asteroid, if anyone else is ever going to do it, then fuck it, let it be us!”
Trish seemed unsure, but hopeful. Inspired, but cautious. She looked at Reed, and his bloodshot eyes.
The velociraptor couldn’t help but chuckle. “Raging against the asteroid? Yeah, sounds about like Fang. To hell with it. If it’s how you wanna go out one way or the other, then, as your friend, alright.” Reed stood up, then reached a hand towards Fang. “Let’s ‘rock.’”
Trish had stood up and reached for Reed’s hand, but upon that remark, she groaned. “Uuugh. Was that a pun? That was a pun, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Reed said, and he grabbed Trish’s hand, bringing it forward to Fang.
With a smile, the ptero reached out, and they all shook, forming a pact.
“So, what do we need to do or get?” Trish asked.
That, Fang hadn’t thought of. The song fragment they could recall from other visions, bits here and there from sounds in passing from them and the chalkboard, but all Naser had said was that they ‘already knew.’ “I, I’m not sure. I just know the song. Part of it, anyways. We have to play a specific one, and that’s supposed to do the magic trick. Like the sound waves blast the damn asteroid or something; I don’t know, it’s stupid and something like that.”
“This literally sounds like a children’s anime,” Reed laughed.
Trish laughed a little as well. “Well, the interference means we’re going to need some equipment. As it closes in, it might cut with the power to our instruments.”
“Then, let’s get what we need, and let’s party like there’s no tomorrow. School rooftop?” Fang asked.
The others nodded.
“Do you remember the song? The one that, I guess, is supposed to… save us?” Reed asked.
Fang shook their head. Their hands shook, their knees trembled, and it took every effort to not fall apart right there, and to burst out crying and give up. “N… no, not even half of it. Only a few little parts.”
“Then play those,” Reed said simply. Despite the situation, he seemed so calm and relaxed, as always. “Just play around it and make the rest up.”
That somehow brought Fang out of their despair. It was such a straightforward and seemingly stupid idea that it was something only Reed would say. He was right, Fang thought. Just play around it. Make the rest up.
Merely dreams or not, it was made of the same thing either way. Hope.
“This’ll work, right, Fang?” Trish asked, her voice not nearly as confident as Reed’s. “We’ll be okay after this?”
“...Yes,” Fang said, smiling at the others. But behind those eyes was a sad, teary look. “We’ll be fine,” they said with a nod, but thought, ‘... Just not ‘us’ us. Not us here. But you guys don’t need to know that.’
Fang turned back around from their friends, the three of them side-by-side now, looking away from the sky as it became brighter and more distorted. Even when facing away from it, it hurt their eyes.
“Now then, Pangea,” Fang said, yelling into the microphone, “allow me to present to you… A tribute, to the greatest song in the world!”
A powerful, defiant, slow creep of a heavy noise began to build up. It began with Reed starting on his drums for a good twenty seconds before Trish began to play her guitar. Feeling everything on the line, including their own life, their friends, and…
“Naser…” they whispered, too quietly to be heard on the microphone by their friends or the imaginary audience, let alone the roaring meteor in the sky. What a good day to die. And there was no better band and no better friends to die with, Fang thought with some sort of combination of a sad smile and a sly smirk.
They didn’t hold back. It was the hardest, metal shit the band had ever come up with, incorporating the only bit of that song Fang could recall. Fang sang their heart out, tears flying in the air from the rushing winds. The band gritted their fangs together, their knees buckling. Fang’s fingers bled as they tore at the guitar strings, and then-!
Nothing.
“W-what?” Fang couldn’t hear themself over the environmental effects, the sound of rushing wind, of the impending disaster.
Trish yelled, “Hey, I can’t hear shit! You guys?”
“Power’s down! We need to use the generators,” Reed yelled back, jumping out of his drummer seat to go to the setup they had on the makeshift stage they had set up on top of the school. “Give me a minute, I don’t know, buy some time with an acapella solo?”
“Fuck that, I’m not Scatman,” Fang said. But they did make a broad smirk. “But I have a better idea. Acoustic solo!”
Trish nodded. The triceratops rushed over to Fang’s spare acoustic guitar, grabbed it, and threw it right in the air at her friend.
They dropped the electric guitar, sliding on their knees and catching the acoustic mid-air, strumming it in one fell swoop while they posed like a rockstar, hair swaying behind from the momentum.
It didn’t take too much longer, and then it felt like a second chance. “Alright, go!” Reed yelled, jumping back into the drum seat. The generators whirled to life, and they all knew, this was it. Those things wouldn’t last more than a couple minutes.
This was it. Whatever magic was supposed to happen, it would happen now, or they’d die like anime heroes. Either way, with massive, defiant smirks, they laughed and played on.
Fang finally turned around, facing the blinding sky, rather than away from it. “Come here, come the hell down!” the ptero screamed, no longer really singing. “I’m never gonna see the end. Fuck you! You want to take my life, my plans, screw everything up?! Then you come down here and fight me like a man, and you take it! Come on! Come o-!”
—
“Wow! Fang, that’s super catchy,” Trish exclaimed. “But it’s not very long.”
“I, it’s not finished,” Fang admitted, smiling to hide feeling a little insecure about the work. “Do you really like it? I sort of dreamt the tune, and thought I could work on it if you guys liked it.”
Reed nodded. “It’s pretty cool. Got a name for it?”
Here, with the band together; their two best friends, Naser at home, all of them graduating, tours planned for the band, and so much to look forward to together, with the amazing lives they shared in mind, Fang couldn’t help but smile.
“It’s…”
Rock Like the World is Ending
A Goodbye Volcano High fanfiction, by Spear
