Chapter Text
The deck of cards had become bent and dusty from sitting on the concrete floor.
Spoke shuffled them dramatically.
"Alright."
"No more weird house rules," Flame said.
"Boooo."
"I'm serious."
"They're fun."
"They're illegal."
"They're not illegal."
"They should be."
Wemmbu chuckled.
"Just deal the cards."
They settled on Crazy Eights.
Simple enough that nobody had to argue over the rules.
Well...
Mostly.
"You skipped me."
"I didn't."
"You definitely did."
"I skipped Flame."
"Exactly."
"...Wait."
"...Oh."
"You did skip me."
Spoke grinned.
"Oops."
"You did that on purpose."
"No proof."
Parrot quietly played along.
He wasn't talking much anymore.
Whenever it was his turn, he'd glance at his cards, put one down, then go back to absent-mindedly rubbing at the brace on his ankle.
His eyelids seemed heavier each round.
Flame noticed first.
"...Bro."
"Hm?"
"You good?"
"Mhm."
"You look dead."
"I'm just tired."
"You've said that for like an hour."
"Mhm."
"...See?"
"What?"
"You answered 'mhm.'"
"I did?"
"You don't even know what I asked."
"...Probably not."
Another few rounds passed.
Parrot played a seven.
Then rested his head back against Wemmbu's shoulder.
His single earbud was still in.
The music had become so quiet only he could hear it.
His eyes closed for just a second.
Then stayed closed.
The card he'd been holding slipped from his fingers into his lap.
Spoke looked over.
"...Uh."
"He fell asleep."
Flame looked up from his cards.
"...Already?"
Wemmbu smiled faintly.
"Yeah."
Parrot's breathing had evened out.
His shoulders had relaxed.
For the first time since the earthquake, he didn't look tense.
Just exhausted.
Spoke lowered his voice.
"...Should we wake him?"
Flame immediately shook his head.
"It's Parrot, bro."
"What do you think?"
Spoke shrugged.
"I don't know. Concussion and stuff?"
"He never hit his head."
"Oh."
"He has a broken ankle, got thrown around by an earthquake, nearly got flattened twice and probably has enough adrenaline leaving his system to knock him out."
Flame looked over at the sleeping blond.
"Besides..."
"Bro values sleep like it's legendary loot."
Wemmbu laughed quietly.
"I know, right?"
"He somehow picked the two most work-heavy majors imaginable."
"Nursing and engineering," Flame said, shaking his head. "Like... bro, why?"
"He likes suffering."
"I don't."
"He says he doesn't."
"I don't!"
"But then he voluntarily studies both."
"...That's a fair point."
Flame reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone again.
"...Hey, Wemmbu."
"Hm?"
"...Can you get Clash of Clans again?"
Wemmbu stared at him.
"...Seriously?"
"What?"
"We're trapped under a building."
"And?"
"And that's your priority?"
"I've got time."
Wemmbu sighed dramatically.
"...Fine."
"If we're stuck here, I'm finally proving my base is better."
"Not happening."
"It absolutely is."
Spoke groaned.
"You two..."
"What?"
"I was trying to enjoy the peace."
"There is no peace."
"There is now."
He pointed dramatically at the sleeping Parrot.
"Look."
"He's got the right idea."
Flame smirked.
"So sleep."
Spoke immediately flopped sideways until his head rested against Flame's shoulder again.
"...You know what?"
"...Don't mind if I do."
Flame looked down at him.
"...You're using me as a pillow again."
"Mhm."
"You have your own backpack."
"Too far away."
"It's literally touching your foot."
"...Still too far."
Flame rolled his eyes but didn't move.
"...You're impossible."
"I've been told."
Within a few minutes, the room was quiet again.
Parrot slept soundly against Wemmbu's shoulder.
Spoke had drifted into a light doze against Flame.
Flame and Wemmbu sat awake in the dim light of a single phone, quietly arguing over Clash of Clans strategies in hushed voices, careful not to wake either of their friends.
For a little while, despite the cracked concrete surrounding them and the uncertainty beyond it, the cramped pocket of rubble felt almost peaceful.
Andthe card game eventually fizzled out.
One by one, the conversations became shorter.
The room settled into a comfortable silence.
Parrot slept soundly against Wemmbu's shoulder, one earbud still in, his phone safely tucked into his pocket to save battery.
Across from them, Spoke had somehow managed to curl up against Flame, using him as an oversized pillow despite Flame's earlier complaints.
Flame had stopped objecting.
"...You drool, I'm pushing you off," he muttered.
Spoke only responded with a quiet snore.
"...Great."
A little while later...
Wemmbu shifted slightly to stretch his back.
The movement made Parrot stir.
Still asleep, he frowned slightly before unconsciously scooting even closer, resting more of his weight against Wemmbu.
A quiet mumble escapedhim.
"...Cold..."
Wemmbu smiled.
"Yeah..."
He looked over at Flame.
"...Hey."
"Hm?"
"In my bag... there's a jacket."
"Can you grab it?"
Flame reached behind him, rummaging through the backpack until he found a dark hoodie.
"This one?"
"Yep."
Carefully, trying not to wake Parrot, Flame unfolded it.
Wemmbu gently draped it over Parrot's shoulders and tucked part of it around his arms.
Almost immediately, Parrot relaxed again, unconsciously pulling the jacket closer around himself.
"...There you go."
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The only sounds were Spoke's occasional snort, the quiet hum from Parrot's earbud, and the distant creaking of the damaged building.
Finally, Wemmbu broke the silence.
"...Do you think help's coming?"
Flame didn't answer immediately.
He looked towards the blocked entrance.
"...Yeah."
"I do."
"They know there was an earthquake."
"They'll be searching."
He gave a small shrug.
"And we've got food."
He nudged the backpack with his foot.
"Water."
"Four phones if we need torches."
"We're okay."
"We just..."
"...wait."
Wemmbu nodded slowly.
"...Yeah."
Another quiet minute passed.
"You know..."
"When we get out of here..."
Flame looked over.
"What?"
Wemmbu reached back, absent-mindedly feeling the tangled mess his long purple hair had become.
"I'm fixing this."
Flame laughed quietly.
"It can't be that bad."
"It absolutely is."
"I spent ages braiding it this morning."
He held up a strand covered in dust.
"...Now look at it."
"It's tragic."
Flame snorted.
"So your first priority after surviving a collapsed building is..."
"My hair."
"Correct."
"...Respectable."
"I'm putting it into a proper braid."
"A nice one."
"I'm not walking around looking like I fought a tornado."
"You kinda did."
"...Fair."
"What about you?" Wemmbu asked.
Flame leaned his head back against the concrete wall.
"When I get home..."
He smiled faintly.
"...I'm gonna sit on the couch with Mane."
"No phones."
"No streams."
"Just..."
"...exist."
Wemmbu nodded.
"...Sounds nice."
"Yeah."
"It does."
A sudden snort interrupted them.
Both looked over.
Spoke rubbed one eye before blinking blearily at the ceiling.
"...Huh..."
He yawned loudly.
"...What's the time?"
Flame checked his phone.
"...One a.m."
"Dang..."
Spoke stretched carefully.
His graze protested immediately.
"...Ow."
Then he looked at the three of them.
Parrot was still fast asleep.
Wemmbu looked exhausted.
Even Flame had dark circles beginning to show beneath his eyes.
Spoke sat up a little straighter.
"You guys sleep."
Flame frowned.
"What?"
"I'll watch."
"If anything goes wrong..."
"I'll yell."
"You sure?" Wemmbu asked.
Spoke nodded.
"I'm awake now anyway."
"You two look like zombies."
Flame opened his mouth to argue.
Instead another yawn escaped.
"...Rude."
"I'm right."
"...Yeah."
"You are."
After a little hesitation, Flame shifted until he could rest against the wall more comfortably.
"...Wake me if you hear anything."
"I will."
Wemmbu adjusted slightly, making sure Parrot was still comfortable beneath the borrowed jacket.
"...Night."
"'Night."
Within minutes, Flame's breathing slowed.
Wemmbu wasn't far behind.
Now all three of his friends were asleep.
Spoke smiled to himself.
"...Guess I'm on night shift."
He slipped one earbud into a single ear, keeping the other free to listen for any unusual sounds.
Phone brightness turned almost all the way down, he quietly started watching a downloaded video.
The soft glow barely illuminated the cramped pocket beneath the rubble.
Every so often he'd glance up from the screen, listening.
The building remained still.
Parrot slept curled beneath the jacket.
Wemmbu's head rested lightly against the wall.
Flame had finally escaped Spoke's pillow privileges.
Outside, the world was dark.
Inside the tiny space carved out by collapsed concrete, it was almost peaceful.
The tiny pocket beneath the collapsed building was still dark.
The only light came from Spoke's phone, propped against his backpack as a downloaded video played quietly through one earbud.
He'd long since stopped paying attention to it.
Instead, he found himself counting the seconds between the building's little creaks.
It was oddly relaxing.
A small movement beside him caught his attention.
Parrot frowned in his sleep before slowly blinking awake.
"...Hm..."
He looked around groggily.
"Oh."
"...Still here."
Spoke smiled.
"Unfortunately."
Parrot let out a sleepy sigh before rubbing his eyes.
"What time?"
"Like... two-ish."
"...Right."
His ankle reminded him exactly where he was.
"...Ow."
"You say that every time you wake up."
"It's still true."
---
Parrot sat up carefully.
"...Spoke?"
"Hm?"
"Can you pass me my bag?"
"Sure."
Spoke reached over confidently.
Grabbed one strap.
Pulled.
...
Nothing.
He frowned.
Pulled harder.
The backpack barely moved.
"..."
"...Bro."
"What?"
"...Why does this thing weigh like fifty kilos?"
Parrot looked over.
"Oh."
"That's because it's my uni bag."
"...That doesn't answer anything."
"It answers everything."
Spoke planted both feet against the floor.
"This is ridiculous."
He gave one mighty tug.
The backpack lurched forward about three centimetres.
Spoke immediately fell backwards onto the concrete.
"...Ow."
Parrot stared at him.
"...You okay?"
"...No."
"...Your backpack beat me."
Parrot couldn't help laughing quietly.
Still sitting down, he reached over with his uninjured arm, hooked a finger through one of the straps...
...and casually dragged the heavy bag into his lap like it weighed almost nothing.
Spoke blinked.
"...Excuse me?"
"What?"
"...I just lost a fight to that bag."
"I carry it every day."
"...Voluntarily?"
"...Yeah."
"...You're actually insane."
---
Parrot unzipped the backpack.
Inside were notebooks.
Pens.
Folders.
A laptop.
Several thick textbooks.
A portable charger.
An emergency first-aid kit.
And enough stationery to supply a classroom.
Spoke stared.
"...Bro."
"Do you carry an office?"
"I like being prepared."
"...You brought three textbooks."
"I was going to campus."
"...You willingly carry these?"
"...Mhm."
"...Your poor back."
"My back is fine."
"Impossible."
Parrot pulled out one notebook.
Flipped through a few pages.
Found a blank section.
Clicked a pen.
Then started writing.
Spoke leaned over curiously.
"What're you doing?"
"Studying."
"...Now?"
Parrot shrugged.
"We're waiting."
"Might as well use the time."
Spoke watched him write a heading.
**CRISPR Gene Editing**
Underneath it, Parrot neatly wrote:
*Gene editing technology that allows scientists to precisely change DNA sequences.*
Spoke frowned.
"...What's CRISPR?"
Parrot looked up.
"You actually want to know?"
"...Yeah."
Parrot smiled faintly.
"Okay."
He shifted slightly so Spoke could see the page.
"So..."
"DNA is basically the instruction manual your cells use."
Spoke nodded.
"So like..."
"...Minecraft instructions?"
Parrot chuckled.
"...Sure."
"If that helps."
"Every cell has instructions telling it how to work."
"Sometimes..."
"Those instructions have mistakes."
"Those mistakes can cause genetic diseases."
"So..."
"...CRISPR lets scientists go in and change those mistakes."
Spoke's eyes widened.
"...Like editing a typo?"
Parrot pointed at him.
"Exactly."
"That's actually a really good way to think about it."
"So they just..."
"...erase it?"
"Sometimes."
"Sometimes they replace it."
"Sometimes they turn a gene off."
"Sometimes they insert a new sequence."
"It depends what they're treating."
Spoke nodded slowly.
"...That's actually kinda sick."
"It is."
Parrot smiled.
"It's one of the biggest advances in genetics."
"It has the potential to treat diseases caused by faulty genes instead of only managing symptoms."
"...Whoa."
---
Spoke rested his chin on his knees.
"...How does it know where to cut?"
Parrot's eyes lit up.
"Guide RNA."
"...English?"
"Oh."
He laughed softly.
"So imagine you're using Google Maps."
"It tells you exactly where to go."
"The guide RNA is basically the directions."
"It tells the CRISPR protein exactly where in the DNA to make the cut."
"...That's cool."
"It is."
"What protein?"
"Usually Cas9."
"Why's it called Cas9?"
"...History."
"...Fair."
---
For nearly half an hour, Spoke kept asking questions.
None of them were particularly scientific.
"So..."
"Can you accidentally edit someone's eye colour?"
"In theory, genes influence eye colour, but in practice it's far more complicated and there are ethical and technical limits."
"Oh."
"Can you make someone breathe underwater?"
"No."
"What about wings?"
"No."
"Tail?"
"No."
"Cat ears?"
"Also no."
"...Lame."
Parrot laughed.
"Science is unfortunately less dramatic than movies."
Eventually the topic drifted.
"So..."
"What made you choose nursing?"
Parrot shrugged.
"I like helping people."
"And engineering?"
"I like solving problems."
"...You really woke up one day and decided to have no free time."
"...Maybe."
---
That somehow became a conversation about university.
Which somehow became favourite teachers.
Which somehow became whether cereal counted as soup.
"It doesn't."
"It technically might."
"It absolutely does not."
"Define soup."
"I'm not doing this."
"You can't."
"I refuse."
---
Then they started talking about animals.
Then space.
Then why pigeons always looked mildly annoyed.
Then whether sharks would win against crocodiles.
Then why shopping trolleys always had one broken wheel.
Then if penguins had knees.
"They do."
"They do?"
"They're just hidden."
"...That feels illegal."
Neither of them noticed the time passing.
Their voices stayed quiet so they wouldn't wake Flame or Wemmbu.
Every question Spoke asked, no matter how random, Parrot answered as best he could.
Sometimes with science.
Sometimes with stories.
Sometimes by admitting,
"...Actually, I don't know."
Spoke grinned.
"I found one!"
"Found what?"
"A question you don't know."
"There are plenty."
"I thought your brain just downloaded Wikipedia."
"It does not."
"You sure?"
"...Pretty sure."
For a little while longer, the ruined building didn't feel quite so frightening.
It was just two friends sitting on a dusty concrete floor, whispering about everything from gene editing to penguins, while the other two slept peacefully beside them. Outside, rescue crews were still searching, but inside their small pocket of safety, the quiet conversation made the long wait a little easier.
The notebook disappeared back into the backpack with a soft thud.
Spoke glanced over at Parrot.
"...You hungry?"
Parrot thought for a second.
"...A bit."
Without another word, Spoke reached into his own backpack.
He rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a slightly squashed muesli bar.
"...Here."
Parrot looked at it.
"...Thanks, bro."
"No worries."
He carefully unwrapped it, the quiet crinkle of the wrapper seeming surprisingly loud in the stillness.
Before taking a bite, though, he reached back into his own bag again.
Spoke raised an eyebrow.
"...More books?"
"Nah."
This time Parrot pulled out a hard glasses case.
"Oh."
He opened it carefully and slipped on a pair of round glasses.
Immediately he sighed.
"That's better."
"I hate trying to read without these."
A few loose curls had escaped the low ponytail he'd tied his hair into that morning. Hours trapped beneath rubble hadn't helped.
Using his free hand, he tried smoothing them back.
It didn't work.
One particularly stubborn curl sprang right back into place.
"...Seriously?"
He tried again.
The curl won again.
Spoke couldn't help laughing.
"Your hair has declared independence."
Parrot looked at the offending strand.
"...Apparently."
He gave up, letting the fluffy curls frame his face instead.
Spoke smiled.
"...You look good with the glasses."
Parrot looked over, a little surprised.
"...Thanks, bro."
A faint smile crossed his face.
"I don't wear them much."
"They suit you."
"Thanks."
---
Finally, Parrot took a bite of the muesli bar.
He chewed thoughtfully for a moment before looking down at what remained.
Without saying anything, he snapped it neatly in half.
He held one piece back out.
Spoke blinked.
"...What's that for?"
"You."
"I gave it to you."
"I know."
"You should eat too."
Spoke shook his head.
"I'm fine."
Parrot kept holding it out.
"Seriously."
"We don't know how long we'll be here."
"So we're sharing."
Spoke sighed with a small smile.
"...You really are incapable of not looking after people."
Parrot shrugged.
"I try."
"You've got a broken ankle."
"And?"
"And your arm's bandaged."
"Mhm."
"You're wrapped in Wemmbu's jacket."
"Correct."
"And you're still making sure I eat."
Parrot looked genuinely confused.
"...Well..."
"...Yeah."
"That's what friends do."
For a second, Spoke didn't answer.
Then he accepted the half of the muesli bar.
"...Thanks."
Parrot smiled.
"No problem."
The two of them sat in the dim glow of Spoke's phone, quietly eating their halves of the snack while the others slept, the silence no longer feeling lonely. It simply felt like two friends making the best of a bad situation.