Chapter Text
O R I O N
1:07 p.m.
Today is my husband's birthday. Husband. The word still sounds strange. But I love it. We've married on July 31, 2022. On the anniversary of the day our lives changed.
I take a look in my calendar. It's Valentino’s birthday, but life doesn't really wait for us. He's away and visiting the construction of our own house. We're working with a young architect. He's just starting out, but we're seeing a bright future for him. He actually recommended us the photographer that took our wedding pictures.
Growing up is a strange thing. For a long time, it seemed like an impossibility. But we're still alive. And we're still learning. Death-Cast is still up and running and it's still giving me the security I need. But I don't fear their call anymore. If they would call me now, I would be okay with that. I have done everything I needed to.
A few years back, I reworked a short story I wrote, when even Death-Cast wasn't around. "A dance with death". Valentino encouraged me to finish it. And now, it's an international bestseller. A director and I are working on a movie for it. And as convenience does its thing: they casted Pazito Dario for the protagonist's role. I didn't even recognize him until I saw the name. It made me happy, knowing that he's doing somewhat better now.
"O-Bro? Wake up. You're daydreaming." Dalma gives me a soft kick under the table.
"I'm awake."
"So: what're you eating?"
Since we've moved out, we meet at least once a week to go out for lunch. Her Last Friend App went through the roof. I'm so incredibly proud of her. Since then, she worked on a few other, smaller projects, but nothing hit like her first app. But I just know that she'll do another app, that'll be just as great.
"Just a salad, I think. I need to be hungry tonight. Valentino and I will be trying out that new restaurant downtown."
VALENTINO
1:19 p.m.
I don't even know when I realized that I'm famous now. Orion is famous too, but for his books, not for his looks. Does anyone actually know what their favorite author looks like? I don't.
My face and body are plastered over diverse magazines. It's strange seeing my own face, when walking into a store. At some point, I started to realize that people are looking at me. No longer, because I was the first Decker that survived, but because they have seen me before. First, it was strange. But now, I somehow got used to it.
Scarlett and I are still working together. She's like my personal photographer. It felt like a betrayal, when I booked that Emeterio-kid for our wedding pics. But I wanted her to enjoy the day and not to work. She's luckily forgiven me.
I park the car and walk over to meet the architect.
"Good morning, Mateo."