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Their mom makes a rare appearance in the kitchen for breakfast that morning.
Tyler looks up from stove where he's cooking eggs. No one but Taylor would be able to catch the shift in his features—surprised, rueful—before he smooths his face back into an impassive expression.
"Morning," he grunts.
Their mom doesn't say anything in reply, which is typical, and the kitchen lapses back into silence and the sizzling of the pan.
In the gray morning light, Taylor watches her mom sift through her purse. Strands of silver hair fall into her face. Dark bruises circle her eyes. Tyler's eyebags are no better. He's half asleep at the stove, watching the eggs with a glare.
When, she thinks, did her mom and brother get so old? Then, she reasons, they haven't been young in a long time. Not since the funeral; they've been too busy.
Tyler plates their food and they sit down to eat. Taylor would appreciate the fact that all three of them are at the table—except none of them are really there, not even herself: Tyler's already planning out the day in his head, the way Taylor knows he does every morning; her mom, well, is only somewhat present on good days; and Taylor is thinking about—
"You should eat," Tyler says pointedly.
She's been pushing her food around her plate without taking a bite. "I'm not hungry."
Tyler grumbles. Which is fair; he made it for her. And she knows it's because he cares about her. But the idea of eating real food right now upsets her stomach. She'll grab a snack to eat later.
On her way out the door, Taylor glances back: at the house, constantly in disrepair, despite Tyler's best efforts, with its peeling paint and crumbling front steps; at her mother, lingering in the doorframe, almost making Taylor think she's seeing them off, except her eyes are glazed over and distant.
Taylor waves goodbye, and though her mom doesn't return it, Taylor thinks she sees the corner of her mom's mouth lift into a half-smile.
Her heart squeezes. She'll always love her mom, she will. But the house behind her and the woman in it have not been a home in a long time.
As Taylor kicks up her bike stand, Tyler asks her, "Are you feeling better?"
He's referring to whatever stomach bug she contracted, where she can't seem to keep her food down this week. Tyler's not the type to hold her hair back or coddle her or anything, but he notices, at least, that there's something wrong. More than she can say about some.
She hasn't thrown up today, though, so she tells him she's fine. Brows furrowed, he looks like he wants to pry more, but he doesn't say anything else about it, and they bike to school.
~
Ben usually doesn't make it through a class period awake.
But before the bell rings, when he wanders in and collapses into his seat, there's a few minutes. Where he just observes: the people trickling in, what they're chatting about or what clothes they're wearing. All white noise, as he feels himself drifting back off to sleep.
And then Taylor arrives.
It's cliche, but every time, his eyes are naturally drawn to her. To how she brightens the room.
There's a tightness to her smiles this morning, though. Taut, like a string about to snap.
She passes by his desk, dropping a note.
Can we talk? it says. She gives him a place and time.
He glances up, to find her glancing back at him. He nods. She smiles. It seems off, like a dissonant note in a chord.
But that's not unexpected, he thinks. It makes sense she'd be uneasy. They haven't really talked about it, not since that night. But he and Taylor are the type to skirt around things like that as much as they can. They're similar, in a way.
Ben watches for a moment, how Taylor easily falls into a conversation with her friends and then her teacher and laughs, and it reminds him how they are very different. And how it should stay that way.
He has trouble falling asleep that period.
Eight weeks ago, she doesn't remember what they were doing there or why they were there.
Ash had dance practice. Then, maybe Tyler had a baseball game out of town, or Aiden was doing something stupid. Whatever the reason, Taylor and Ben had the whole graveyard to themselves.
They're sitting on the hood of a bus, their hands sometimes brushing, or their knees touching.
It's beginning to grow cool out as evening approaches. Taylor remembers how the sky will redden come midnight when they're in another dimension and she shivers.
This time, Ben brushes his hand against hers on purpose. His skin is calloused and cool to the touch. Still, it makes her insides warm.
His own cheeks look warm when she glances at him: blotchy, pink. It's endearing. But then, Ben always manages to endear himself to her.
She knows, from what Aiden has told them, that Ben has gone through hard things. He doesn't talk about it much, the same way she and her brother don't share much about their lives. Taylor senses, though, the grief and anger buried within him. And yet, he's gentle, and kind. He doodles in the margins of his notes. He'll take out his earbuds to listen to what his friends have to say. He lets ladybugs crawl over his hands and counts the spots. He still make jokes along with the rest of them, through a dry quip of his phone, even as everything in their lives is terrible and unsure. He prefers to stay quiet, and it's a comfortable quiet Taylor hasn't known in a long time. Not like the quiet she feels at home—an empty, searching quiet, tip-toeing around something unspoken, simmering like the air before a thunderstorm.
Like the air weighing on them right now. Dark, hungry clouds appear on the horizon. She can see them across the graveyard.
Ben sees it too. He sighs and jumps down from the bus.
Despite the warning in the wind picking up, Taylor doesn't want to go just yet.
She catches Ben's hand.
He avoids her gaze, stunned for a second, before he looks up. His eyes are a warm ochre.
Usually, Taylor is more careful. Usually, she's smarter—she's had straight A's since her dad died so her mom and brother would never have to worry—and she doesn't rush into things.
But then she kisses Ben. And he stills, and he kisses her back.
It's clumsy and chaste. She's sitting on the bus and Ben has to lean in and tilt his head up; their noses bump; his teeth clash against hers. But her arms easily fall around his shoulders, as his hands find her waist.
They pull away once they taste the rain drizzling down.
Ben's expression is hard to read, the way he usually keeps it. To Taylor, though, it seems wistful.
His eyes re-focus, gazing right into hers. It's disconcerting, how he looks at her, discerning. But it is not cruel; his eyes soften. And they are so very warm.
She swallows.
~
The big and empty house his aunt and uncle own, with its vaulted ceilings and wide windows, rarely feels warm; it's too much space, too expensive, to fully heat.
His room right now, though, feels too hot. His bed is warm with the two of them in it. Her mouth is warm, pressed against his. Her hands are warm, carding through his hair, slipping under his shirt. Ben didn't realize how cold he was, until he felt how she runs hot. He leans into her touch as much as he dares. Clinging to whatever warmth he can get.
Outside his window, the thunder rolls, and rain patters against the glass, thrumming and hypnotic.
His aunt and uncle are hundreds of miles away. He has no idea where his cousin is. But he has Taylor here with him. It feels so wrong. It feels so good. Is this like the adrenaline rush his cousin's always chasing after? Or is he more like a phantom, with some insatiable appetite to consume?
He doesn't know. He doesn't really know anything. Not now, with his mind all murky. The room spins when he pulls away.
She blinks up at him. Grins, languidly, with swollen lips. Even with the lights turned off and the blinds drawn, Taylor's smile suffuses the dark; an aureole. She lets her eyes fall closed, and her long lashes flutter.
It hurts him, how pretty she is.
He worries about her. She's so open and kind to everyone, even to a person like him. Always has the right word to say, to smooth over conflicts. Around others, she pretends the phantom dimension doesn't exist so easily, it's unnerving. She kisses him like it's for a grade.
Still. When her hands graze his throat, she is achingly gentle. And as she pulls him closer, he gladly follows.
He can't kiss away her problems, but he's willing to try.
The drugstore bathroom is dim and dingy, but still bright enough for Taylor to read the results of the pregnancy test.
It's a cold sensation, seeing the two lines.
All the air leaves her body. What would Tyler say? Her blood turns to ice. What about her mom? Ben?
For a moment, she lets her irrational optimism take over and she imagines. A future, without phantoms. With her, with Ben. Maybe a family, with kids who they could give a real childhood to, like the childhoods they never got to experience.
The idea, however, is just a gold-tinted image, resembling a past she can't return to. Reality washes over her. She can't keep it; she's got the phantom realm to worry about, plus school. She can't ask her mom or Tyler to sacrifice any more for her, not with all the things they already shoulder. And Ben—
Taylor knows she's selfish. She wanted to feel, just for a little bit, loved. But for as sweet as Ben is, it's not fair to ask him to take this on, either.
She wraps the test up and drops it in the trash.
~
At the end of class, their teacher passes back their graded tests. Ben's score is, unsurprisingly, low.
The bell rings, and he makes his way toward the door.
Usually, he drags his feet. When he remembers Taylor's note, her expression, however, anxiety ties his stomach up in knots. It feels like he's messed up somehow, like someone's watching him as he moves through the hallway.
He meets Taylor where and when she told him: after sixth period, by the lost and found. It's right before one of the few classes Taylor doesn't have with Tyler, so he wouldn't notice if she skipped, and it's in a corner tucked away from prying eyes. Belatedly, Ben also remembers this is a popular make-out spot at school. He puts away the thought, though; Taylor said she just wanted to talk.
She's fiddling with the worn sleeve of an abadoned jacket when he arrives. The motion-sensor light turns on above him. She looks up and smiles.
"Hi."
He nods.
"You doing okay?"
He should be asking her that, what with how grim the set of her mouth is, like she wishes the lost-and-found would swallow her whole.
"Right. Um. Well, I didn't want to bring it up earlier or text you just in case Tyler or someone noticed, but. I, uh, took a pregnancy test yesterday. And. It was positive."
First, his throat closes up.
Then, he thinks: no one can find out. Not Tyler, he'll kill him. His aunt and uncle might not care so much, but if his parents hear about it, after how much he's already disappointed them, would they ever let him come back home?
Thirdly (and guiltily), he considers Taylor. She can't afford to ignore this. She's the one who has to actually go through with it. But he can't think, can't think up any idea of what to do. Tyler would know what to do, if they told him. Or maybe the Banners, but he really doesn't like the idea of losing their esteem.
He moves to hold Taylor's hand, before realizing he's already gripping it tightly.
She laughs a little. "Hey, hey. It's—I'm okay. We just gotta, I mean, I—I've got to get an abortion or something. But I don't have a car, or the money, so…" She squeezes his hand. "My mom's a nurse, so I could ask her. But. I don't know, I can't—"
She sucks in a breath. Ben expects her to cry, but she does not break down; just inhales. Exhales. No wavering. No shakiness. In. Out.
It's not fair. She has more reason than any of them to be crying and she won't allow herself to. It makes Ben feel like crying himself.
She must see this when she looks at him, her smile wobbling.
Ben wraps her into a hug. She burrows her nose in the crook of his shoulder. His hand comes up to hold her hair. After a long moment, the light automatically flickers off.
He can't say sorry. He can't say anything. Because he's too scared, too selfish. The same way he's always been.
He can stand here with her for as long as she wants, though. And when she reaches up to kiss him, he won't pull away. It's only fair, to give back what he took from her, to give the only thing he's good for.
~
Her mom's back from work, her car parked in the driveway when they return. Surprising, since their mom usually likes to work overtime.
Taylor and Tyler don't see her at all when they come through the door. Probably holed up in her room, like usual. It doesn't sound like too bad of an idea.
She drops her bag on the floor and crawls into bed. With the lower bunk, she always has to duck her head. But she doesn't mind, always having Tyler right above her, always connected.
He frowns down at her, arms folded.
"Something's wrong," he asserts.
"Nothing's wrong."
"You've been sick all week, and you're acting all depressed."
"I'm just tired."
She can see, when she snaps at him, the way his eyes hollow.
"Are you sure?" he asks.
She forces herself to smile. It's better if it looks strained; it corroborates her lie.
"Yeah, I'm sure."
Tyler sighs, cutting through her heart like a dull knife. "Alright."
He flicks off the light. In the dark, she looks up at the slats of the bed frame.
~
She wakes up in the phantom dimension.
It still feels wrong, shifting, settling, into a place not made for them. More than ever though, she wants to puke, dizzy out of her mind. Maybe it's a pregnancy symptom, she thinks, coming to herself.
Tyler glances at her, to make sure she's alright, then decidedly looks away. Right, she should apologize for earlier. Before she can speak, he's already striding toward the others.
Ash is surveying the graveyard, while Logan and Aiden chat by the buses, with Ben sitting on the hood of one. He looks tragically beautiful, all pensive and painted in reddish hues of a false sky.
Taylor falls into conversation with Aiden and Logan and hops up onto the hood next to Ben. His eyes alight on her, concerned. She doesn't let her gaze linger too long, in case their friends notice, but she brushes her hand against his, to tell him she's alright.
She fancies she can feel his pulse, thrumming steadily against her skin. But it might just be her own heartbeat. While she loves Ben, there are also shades of him she does not know, may never know. Though he looks at her with care, the thoughts behind his eyes are indecipherable.
But it's fine. He is warm, and he is real. In this unending, nightmarish reality, that's enough.