“Oh, they’re sweet,” you murmured, your voice soft as you and Diego sat at a vacant table on the far side of Luther and Sloane’s apocalyptic wedding, a celebration attended only by the Umbrellas and what’s left of the Sparrows.

It was strange to think this was your third attempt at stopping the end of the world. Well, their third. For you, it was only the second, the first time having been in Dallas after that hellish mental institution.

That was where you met Diego.. angry, stubborn, impossible Diego. You stayed with him as he tracked down his siblings, followed him through 1963, and somehow all the way here. Never once had you left his side, and somewhere along the way, you had fallen in love.

Now, on the eve of the universe unraveling, you found yourself at a wedding. Luther’s wedding. To a woman he had known all of ten days. An absurdity by anyone else’s standards, but to you, it was oddly fitting. A pocket of tenderness carved into chaos.

Diego leaned back in his chair, watching his brother sway with Sloane, their arms tangled and faces alight with joy as though time wasn’t against them. Without a word, his hand found yours, drawing it gently into his lap. You rested your head on his shoulder, and he murmured, almost to himself, “You ever think about getting hitched? If we make it out of, yknow, this?”