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Ashlyn feels like there is a perpetual cloud over her head. It used to be just over her, a nice, full, puffy, white cloud. It slowly grew to a grey, and then it began raining, and now it follows more than just her - it expanded to cover Aiden, Ben, Taylor, Tyler, and Logan, too. Now they are being rained on, and it's her cloud, her fault, and her responsibility.
Ashlyn rubs her hair, running the short strands through her fingers, and wonders if one day, she'll feel the rain in this reality, too. If it won't be in her head anymore. She'll wake up and be doused in cold rainwater.
The bus is quiet. Well, to everyone but her. The phantoms outside of the graveyard had made it difficult for her to be at peace at any point in this reality. Nobody else can hear it - Logan is curled up in his tire, fast asleep, and Ben is leaning against the wall right next to him. Taylor and Tyler are curled up on two of the seats across from each other sleeping, and Aiden is... somewhere. Ashlyn can never sleep here, not without headphones. Her earbuds only do so much, and she can hear the phantoms shuffling. Some are louder than usual, and she wonders if they've been trying to brave the bright lights that surround them. There are so many, and she can barely leave her house in peace anymore knowing that every day there are things around her that she simply can't see. One day they might take her. They might take her friends, too.
She rests her head between her knees and presses her hands to her ears, trying to block out the sound as much as she can. Maybe if she closes her eyes, she'll wake up and discover this was a dream. It was never real. She can go back to her white puffy cloud and be alone and Savannah would have never happened.
"You know," She hears right beside her, and she jumps. She opens her eyes to find Aiden underneath the seat in front of her, like he army crawled from the front just to arrive unexpectedly. "We can get you some noise-cancelling headphones. In the real world. Would be better than the earplugs you have now."
Ashlyn does know this. She just keeps forgetting to do it.
Aiden lies on his back and grips the edge of the seat. In one swift movement he pushes himself out from underneath it and sits up, scooting next to her against the back of the bus. "What do they sound like?"
Ashlyn pauses and looks at him, then down at her hands. She can't tell him that the sounds they make are the same color as his eyes - his are much more comforting, of course. Anything would be better than that.
"They sound like they're drowning. All the time. But in something thicker than water," She mumbles. "And when they scream they sound like... Like red. A bright red. Picture a gunshot hitting someone, and it's just like that."
"And you guys say I'm crazy," Aiden jokes, and Ashlyn elbows him in the side. "Kidding, kidding. No, I can picture it."
Can he?
She ruffles her hair again, glancing up at the ceiling. They only have a few hours left, not enough time to do what they need to do. Plus, they need to get some proper rest. Or the others do, at least. Her head twinges, a reminder of what happened the night they got the jeep.
She feels fingers go through her hair, pressing lightly, and her head whips around to look at Aiden. He holds his arm up in place, even though she's moved, and smiles at her. "Sorry. Wanted to know what was so interesting about it."
"It's just different, is all," Ashlyn gently slaps his hand away.
Aiden adjusts his position and gestures for Ashlyn to lie down. It wouldn't be the first time, of course, but it feels weird - different - when it's just the two of them and not the entire group piled on top of one another. She does it anyway, because what's the point in refusing? She always sleeps better when she isn't alone.
She settles down, legs bent and knees up, and folds her hands on her stomach. She closes her eyes for a few seconds, but she can feel Aiden staring at her, and it's strange when she has her eyes closed. She opens them again and stares at him. He smiles down at her, then reaches down to start playing with her hair.
"I don't know what your fascination with my hair is," She mumbles, closing her eyes again. "It's not even long anymore."
"Not here. But it's not like I liked it because it was long, I like it because it's yours," Aiden says. Ashlyn's eyes open sharply, and Aiden diverts his eyes by looking down the aisle in between the seats, his face turning red - his hands do not stop. "At least everyone looks comfortable, though."
Ashlyn does not take the bait. She stares at him for a while and he refuses to look down. She knows he's sweating inside, mostly because she can practically hear his heartbeat. She reaches up to tug on a piece of his hair. "How often do you bleach this?"
"Every time my roots start showing. So, like, a few weeks." He takes the change in conversation like a baby running after candy, but Ashlyn is just as eager.
It always feels like this. Like they're dancing around a topic, always stepping over the line and then running back to the other side. But instead of one step forward, two steps back, it feels like 2 steps forward and 1 step back. Progress people. For what, she doesn't know, but it is surely for something.
Aiden tilts his head down a little bit and Ashlyn pushes it out of his face, behind his ear. She resists the urge to run her fingers through the back, because that feels like too much, way more than 2 steps, so she lets her hand fall back down. Aiden looks back down at her and does the same thing - pushes her hair off of her forehead and out of her eyes. He doesn't stop there, though, he lets himself rake it through the side of her head to the back of her scalp. It's nice, actually, like when she takes out her hair after a ballet class and can just sit there and push her nails over it until the tension is free.
She sighs and closes her eyes. Lets herself sit in it for a moment and realizes that she hasn't been thinking about the sounds for a while. Then she realizes it's quiet, and she opens her eyes and she's in her room.
She hadn't even realized that she'd fallen asleep.