we would build a fire

They crawl from the dark together, hand in hand, bloody and bleeding but—the air moves above ground, Mika’d forgotten, and even the snow’s bite can’t numb the fierce burst of emotion in his chest. Yuu, trailblazing before him, trips, falling down a sudden slope.

Mika yelps as he’s pulled with him. They tumble for so long Mika’s head spins and reels when they bottom out, kid limbs tangled, fogged breath rising to gray sky together for the first time in years.

“Mika,” Yuu says, his name catching in his throat. Mika turns to look where Yuu points and gasps. “They lied-“

The mountain falls out before them and into a valley bedded with the bones of some ruined city—not all ruined, he amends when he notices lights flickering in faraway windows. He unclenches his hands from where they’ve grabbed fistfuls of Yuu’s clothes, shaking from the cold, the realization that humankind hasn’t lost.