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“Aiden! Move–”
He whips his head back at Ashlyn’s gasp, the clatter of her flashlight hitting the floor ringing loudly in his ears, only to find her dangling in the air. She’s grabbed by the back of her collar by some phantom’s hand, her breath coming out in sharp gasps, and his heart drops. Sinks is the better word. His heart sinks into his stomach and the only thoughts in his head are a string of profanity. He can see the blood dripping down her head from the impact, her eyes wide.
“Ash!” He reaches out, desperate, but a flare of pain shoots up his leg from his ankle and he slips, hard. His elbow hits the ground and with it comes another flare of pain but the only thought in his head is the fact that he has to save Ashlyn right now. He lifts his head up, his arms shaking, but her kicking legs disappear onto the roof. “Ashlyn!”
Fuck.
He pushes himself to the ground in a rush, ignoring the pain from his ankle because frankly, he has bigger things to worry about. He runs to the edge of the porch, slipping the pickaxe from his belt into his hand and leaps to grab hold onto the roof’s edge. In his head, it went a lot smoother, the pickaxe instantly grabbing onto the tile as he pulled himself up easily. Instead, he struggles with the ache in his arms and his lack of core strength and he finds himself really wishing he took up Ben’s offer of going to the gym daily.
He can faintly hear Ashlyn cry out and he swears, pulling harder onto the roof, hacking at the tiles in an attempt to get a proper grip and pull himself up.
“Aiden? What the fuck are you doing?” Tyler asks, running out to the front of the house. Thank god.
“Help me get up here! Now!” Aiden pants, his legs wiggling from the strain. There’s a thudding sound from above him and the worst thoughts fly past his brain. Ashlyn hurt, blood streaming from her head, her arms, and everywhere and he swears if this half-wit doesn’t help him get up on this rooftop right now instead of asking dumb questions he will raise hell. “HURRY!”
He feels Tyler’s shoulder under his feet and the relief from not holding his entire weight on this damned roof is so soothing that he nearly stumbles. It’s not the time to dwell on it though, and with Tyler’s help, minus the throbbing pain of his ankle from the fucker that is squeezing it right now, he almost manages to pull himself up.
“Can you tell me what the hell’s going on now?” Tyler grunts, pushing the soles of Aiden’s feet as best as he can.
“A phantom stole Ashlyn,” he calls back, finally pulling his entire torso on the room and climbing up, “And I’m gonna get her back.”
He can faintly hear Tyler now, his tone bewildered as he asks something about the roof, but Aiden can’t focus on him. He half stands, wobbly, but still standing and holds onto the tiles, climbing to where he hears Ashlyn cry out with a loud thud. He grabs onto the ledges quicker.
Fuck.
What if he doesn’t make it on time?
What if she’s already fatally hurt?
What if she dies before he makes it?
(It’ll all be his fault.)
(Because Ash was right, he was the one who led them to entering this shadow realm, or whatever it was. If he hadn’t been annoying and bothered Ashlyn simply because she was the first person who looked him in the eye on the bus that very day, they wouldn’t have gone to Savannah and they wouldn’t have entered that freaky house and Ash would’ve been safe in the comfort of her own home without the phantoms roaming around. Not dying on her own rooftop.)
He swears again, almost to the top of the roof where it comes to a point when he hears a gunshot fire from afar. He flinches, looking back to Logan’s location to see phantoms racing all over the yard. Holy shit.
If Aiden was ever scared in his life, this moment would probably be it. In fact, this was the most terrified he had ever been. He can feel the waves of dread washing over him as Ashlyn’s dead body flashes through his head, the idea that the phantoms were all around him and his friends, and the fact that he was so fucking helpless all because he was too proud to admit that he wasn’t invincible and he wasn’t hurt.
If it wasn’t for his stupid pride he wouldn’t have jumped off that wall and sprained his ankle and then ran on that foot for a few minutes to further injure it. Wouldn’t have dropped down right in front of the door and blocked Ash’s entrance. Wouldn’t have caused her to get dragged by her collar and fight for her life up here on this stupid roof.
When he pulls himself up and reaches over the tip of the roof, he finally spots Ashlyn’s ginger hair and the phantom laying over her body. A sharp twist of fear stabs him in the stomach before relief floods his body at the sight of her chest rising and falling, at the twitch of her head and the glance of her eyes when she hears him. She’s alive.
“ASHLYN!” He calls out, panting, “You’re okay!”
For a moment, he thanks the flashlight headband on his forehead for being there, because he’s able to see Ashlyn clearly through the dark. It relieves him to no end that she’s not lying there, glassy eyed and motionless. He glances briefly at the phantom laying atop her and the “skin” of it jumps at the illumination. He notices there’s a hole in the middle of its head, cleanly shot through the middle and nearly whistles at the sight of it. Logan’s aim was no joke.
“Define okay… I think–” Ashlyn winces, sitting up and raising a hand to the back of her head where it had smacked the bottom of the porch roof, “No, I definitely have a concussion.”
He exhales a breath in light amusement, feeling the guilt swirl in the depths of his stomach. He hears Logan speak through the walkie talkie around his waist, informing the team where the phantoms were. Aiden assumed that they had heard Logan’s gunshot and were heading in his direction, around the school bus graveyard.
“Looks like we need to hurry.” He says, climbing over the top of the roof and straddling the edge of it. He’s careful to lean down and reach out a hand, in case he plummets head first into the ground below (because god knows he can’t trust himself anymore), “Here.”
Ashlyn reaches out slowly and the phantom on her slips as she twists her body. The weight of it slides down the roof and in a terrifying second, Ashlyn slips with it, her hand retracting slightly as she desperately tries to fight gravity. Aiden tries to reach, grab her hand before she falls completely, and grasps air. He curses.
He jumps over the edge fully, using his pickaxe to hold himself in place before he slipped down too. He manages to grab Ashlyn’s wrist in those two seconds she’s slipping, her fingers wrapping around his own. In a frightening moment, the momentum of her fall continues, both of them dragging down, before it stops with a creak of the roof and all Aiden can hear is their harsh breaths against the silence of the winds around them. He laughs lightly, finding no humor in the situation, but laughs out of relief because this is the second close call he’s had to losing Ashlyn and if it happens again he will have a heart attack.
“I got you this time…” He breaths.
He suddenly realizes with a jolt that it’s darker than it was before and the weight of his headband is gone. It must have fallen when he reached for Ash. Her own headband has been long gone, and the only light they have is faint. He blinks slightly, eyes adjusting to the darkness before pulling her up to him.
Aiden lets go of her arm, his arm reaching around to hug her back and bring her closer in case she slips again. Her legs tangle with his and he doesn’t mind the weight over his own. It reminded him that she was alive, safe (not completely, but still safe). The overwhelming feeling of it all makes him drop his head to her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her seep through the suit he bought them ages ago.
He’s probably overstepping her boundaries, he knows. He’s not a total idiot, unlike the impression he likely gives off. He can tell when he’s gone too far, but for now, even if she smacks the shit out of him later, he needs the physical contact. Needs to feel her weight against him because the relief in his chest hasn’t completely set in and the guilt in causing her to get hurt in the first place is too heavy in his heart. His arm aches in its tight grip on the pickaxe as it holds onto the both of them, but he ignores it easily.
“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, the sound muffled by her shoulder; he knows she can still hear it, even through the noise-canceling earbuds she wears. His hand shakes and he feels the urge to hold her tighter, but he doesn’t move. He already knows he’s testing his luck with her.
“Aiden, now isn’t the time to…” Ash begins, voice just as light before she trails off. There’s a brief pause between the two of them where nothing happens, where they don’t move and all Aiden can feel is his pounding heartbeat which refuses to slow. (He doesn’t know if it's from the adrenaline pumping in his veins or if it’s from…)
And then he feels her hand reach around his own back, soft and gentle, and her head rests against his shoulder.
Aiden isn’t a crier. He hardly cries when he’s broken more bones than he can count on his fingers. He doesn’t cry watching sad shows or movies. And yet he wants to cry so badly against her shoulder in the moment right here because of the sheer fear in his body when she disappeared onto the roof in front of his eyes. When he heard her cry out and get slammed against the tiles. When the phantom was laying above her body because for a split second it looked like she was dead too.
But she’s not. She’s alive and breathing and warm and hugging Aiden back and it’s a hundred times a better feeling than the thrill rides he’s sought after for most of his life. It’s better than bungee jumping, or skydiving, or swimming with sharks. For some reason the feeling of safety felt better than the feeling of danger that he was always seeking out.
He revels in the idea for a second, in the warmth of Ashlyn against his body, before sighing softly and pulling back. They had to get a move on.
“Come on.” Aiden says, pulling her up with him, his legs pushing against the tiles. She rests her weight gently against him, letting him carefully wrap his arm around her shoulder and pull her closer to him. They manage to get over the edge of the roof and slide slowly over to the other side. He can faintly hear Taylor inside before her head pokes out of the window beside them and calls for their name.
(At this point, his energy’s completely wasted and he’s breaking a sweat, feeling weak from his already hurt foot while also carrying the weight of Ashlyn who looks like she’s about to faint.) He helps her into the window first, letting Taylor grab her gently and pull her in as he waits for his turn.
For now, Ashlyn is alive. For now, everything is okay. For now, he doesn’t need to put a name to whatever he was feeling because right now, they had to get out of this house and into that Jeep. And that’s okay with Aiden.