[June 20. Monday. 17:26]
“Where’s Art?” asked Joaquin when he finally arrived at a bench on the field where Kael was sitting and staring mindlessly into the ground.
Kael looked up for the first time in hours and squinted his eyes to relieve it from the strain of not blinking. The moment he blinked, he felt his eyes sting from the sudden action. “What time is it?” he asked before looking up at the sky.
The orange-y afterglow of the sun disappearing behind the mountain ranges casted a cold feeling on Kael’s heart, for the sky looked like it was being hugged by blazing fires—it looked like an apocalypse was about to occur.
“Five thirty. Where’s Art?” he repeated before pulling Kael up from his seat and dragging him along with him.
“No idea.” Kael shook his head before adjusting the strap
