Chapter Text
He brushes the dust of your clothes. His dark hands, rough and callous in nature despite their innate warmth did not allude to his young age of sixteen.
“I told you to be more careful,” Tyler huffs in annoyance.
You hold your soured face, not in the mood to deal with his grouchy behavior now of all times. Stuck in the shadow realm for another night, you and the rest of your History group mates had been making a run for more supplies. You had started getting somewhat used to this situation. Every night, all seven of you were stuck in this parallel dimension for exactly seven hours before returning to the real world. All since your trip to Savannah. Now you were specifically searching for guns. The gun shop in town was too far, at the moment, leaving you all stuck with running into Ashlyn’s dad’s basement stash once more for supplies. Thank you military dad, you all had chorused in unison.
“I was,” you counter.
Along the way back, you tripped and twisted your ankle. The few seconds you had been on the ground in pain were enough for the phantoms to have an opening. The scuffle was cut short, however, when Tyler yanked you to your feet and half carried-half led you back to the school bus graveyard in time with the others.
“You’re a real fall risk,” Aiden jokes as he slings himself over one of the standing tires.
The tanned skinned teenager wore an ever present smile that, cooped with his red contact lenses, quite frankly made him look half terrifying.
Ben’s eyes widen as he reaches out towards his cousin, anticipating a fall. The tallest of the ground, Ben Clark’s intimidating build was a stronghold for his gentle demeanor. They’re next to the giant whiteboard. Taylor–the brightest girl anyone could have ever met, whose entire body was sunkissed and caramelized– was next to Logan–despite his shy, nerdy character, he was will determined to be a good team player and survive as much as anyone else–and Ashlyn on the bus floor counting bullets and reloading the new guns they now have. Not much, but they work. That’s all that matters. You’re on a bus seat, Tyler propped against the window closeby.
“Get down, idiot, you’re a fall risk,” Ashlyn quips dryly.
Taylor lets out a tiny snort as the blonde in question’s smile widens. You run your hands through your tousled hair. It’s roughened and sweaty from another intense night. You’d think after two weeks, the adrenaline rush and fear would somehow stifle slightly but no, not at all. That, coupled with the fact that you and the people you were stuck with were not close made the whole situation a lot more nerve racking.
You can still feel Tyler’s annoyance through his unwavering gaze. You sigh. Technically, he has a reason to be annoyed. You can’t believe you’re doing this…
“I’m sorry, okay?” you offer, turning to him, “and thanks by the way. For what you did back there. I would have died otherwise.”
Taylor and Logan both watch the scene with growing interest. Tyler makes a grunt of a noise, meant to signal his approval and turns away. Under the red sky, you don’t catch the brush of pink on his brown cheeks. Taylor however, does.
She hasn’t seen her brother like this in a very long time. Scratch that, actually. Taylor has never seen her brother like this ever. Period.
Tyler Hernandez was a jock. And by default, he was popular. Tyler was one of those guys. He was on the baseball team. He was a great player, who was easily on track to earning a full ride scholarship despite his recent slacking due to the Savannah trip’s effect on all of them. He was handsome. He had decent grades. He kept to himself when he wasn’t around his team. If not, he was perpetually next to Taylor. Of course a hundred and one girls had crushes on him. He was a standard hallway and senior crush. Numerous girls had approached Taylor inquiring if her brother was single and every single time, she had to politely shut them down. She had attempted setting her brother up before.
See: drop hints and pester him about it whenever a particularly sweet girl asked about him.
Nonetheless, she eventually retreated from the pseudo-hobby once she realized her brother seriously couldn't care less. Or well, he did not want to care.
You press your lips into a thin line and adjust yourself on the plush bus seat. Tyler was standing against one of the windows just a few inches in front of you. What was that response? It was so…Tyler. You stand up and immediately his eyes are on you.
“Be careful, idiot-”
You put your hands up in a placating gesture as you stand on one leg, the injured one bent awkwardly to accommodate the injury. Holding onto the head of the seat, you slowly roll your ankle to test your range of motion.
“How’s it looking?” Ashlyn raises her fuzzy orange eyebrows in question.
The smallest of the half-assed team you guys now had taken the role of leader. With her orange waist length hair and gorgeous olive eyes, traced and lined with gold, Ashlyn was a portrait of grace and brute power.
“I’m testing it out,” you nod and slowly keep rolling your ankle.
“You’re being stupid. Sit down, prop it up and let it rest,” Tyler counters roughly.
“Ty,” Taylor frowns at her twin brother and tilts her head at his rude tone. Tyler’s gaze shifts to her and he holds in his annoyance as you keep moving before slowly pushing your foot down. The pain kicks in immediately, forcing you to lift it and stand with a limp.
Ben taps a finger against a window for attention and holds up a piece of paper.
‘Could be strained. Tyler’s right. Keep it elevated’
“See? He agrees.” Tyler flails one hand in Ben’s direction and glares down at you in annoyance but his eyes, rough edged as they were, held a tint of concern.
You and Tyler had the misfortune of consistently being in the same class since middle school. Make no mistake, you were not friends. Taylor and you were friends and she always jokingly whined about how you both were rarely ever in the same homeroom classes until this year. The cheerful, optimistic and empathetic girl taught you a great deal about kindness and friendship even if you both only met during the weekly mechanics club meetings. If not for her, you probably wouldn’t have had the patience to smack the living crap out of her beloved twin brother right now.
“I know what a sprain feels like, jockhead,” you snap back and hear a faint Aiden-sounding giggle of amusement at the nickname, “and it’s just a twisted ankle.”
You turn to Ben and soften considerably, “I’m fine. Trust me. I just wanna test out my ankle. I can’t be a liability.”
The gentle giant hesitates then gives a firm nod in agreement. A grim silence fills the school bus.
Liability.
In this dimension, where you’re constantly surrounded by those inky creatures that made your skin crawl, any injury that potentially slowed you and the group down was enough to be a liability. It’s not a nice word to describe someone you go to school with.
None of you seven were close aside from the twins and the Clark cousins. The only similarity you all seemed to share was that all your luck had run out at approximately the same time two weeks earlier.
“That’s fair,” Ashlyn murmurs and turns away. Her still clumsy hands reload bullets into the guns carefully.
You carefully try shifting your weight slowly. Your ankle can take it better now, just not for long. A few seconds and then you’re back to limping position.
“M’gonna try go for a walk,” you mumble and walk with a slight limp towards the door of the school bus.
Tyler scowls silently but he can’t protest. You need to make sure you’re able to walk, at the very least, in case something happens. Logan looks up at the group, his bespectacled blue eyes leaving the door.
“She-she can keep look out with me for tonight,” he offers.
Taylor nods and gives him a comforting smile, “That’ll help her out.”
Ashlyn makes a noise of disapproval but nods, “She is good with a gun.”
It was true. Of all the group members, Logan was the one who was usually in charge of the gun . It was mainly for his protection. Despite that, there had been times when you had held the gun, cocked it back and shot phantoms dead. It was clumsy, it was fueled by adrenaline, but damn, those nervous hands could still aim and shoot well. Of course, you were no Logan. The light brown haired wallflower was a beast with a gun. A sniper, practically.
Tyler didn’t explain himself as he pushed himself off the wall and headed out the bus. He only gave Taylor a look that said enough for her to know he was going to be safe.
“What was that about?” Aiden pummeled to the ground. Ashlyn’s concern lost to her annoyance as Ben and Taylor immediately rushed to help the laughing boy up from the fallen tire.
You were a few feet away from the school bus, entirely focused on walking comfortably again instead of on the silent footsteps behind you. It wasn’t until Tyler was close enough and you heard him sigh quietly then you stopped and turned your head around.
“What?” you ask quietly, genuinely confused. Was there a new development in the plan? Did they all have to meet? What was going on?
“Nothing, Idiot. I can't go for a walk?” he shoves his hands into his black pants. They were the same sort of pants the team all had. The matching suits had been purchased off Amazon by Aiden after all. You couldn’t lie, it was pretty badass.
You roll your eyes at Tyler and shrug it off, continuing on your way without him. You plan on at least walking half the graveyard to get your ankle somewhat used to your bodyweight again. He frowns and silently follows a few paces behind you. You manage to walk 2 minutes before you turn to him and narrow your eyes.
“What?” he snaps before you can even ask.
“Cool it, jockhead,” you raise your hands in surrender again, “You’re always so hot tempered.”
Tyler scowls but he can’t exactly deny the truth. You shift to turn towards him, cocking your head. Your hair falls past your shoulders and you run a hand through it again. It was getting annoying but you didn’t exactly carry hair ties on you. You make a mental note to keep one on your person for the next midnight shift-
“Here.”
Tyler holds out an orange hair tie towards you. You raise an eyebrow and take it somewhat skeptically. You had noticed him wearing it on his wrists a couple of times. They were the same sort of hair ties Taylor used. He must have kept them around for her.
“Thanks,” you soften and scoop your hair up to tie it all into a ponytail. He makes another noncommittal grunt as a form of acknowledgement. This time you let out an exasperated chuckle.
“Is that the only way you respond to ‘thanks’?” one side of your lips quirks up into a tired smile.
God, Tyler could be exhausting. He was argumentative and rude. Abrasive, snarky. He constantly talked back to Ashlyn during plans and was always skeptical. For heaven's sake, the seven of you were trapped in an alternate dimension with monsters and his attitude could sometimes be the most unhelpful thing on the planet. Especially whenever he was arguing with Aiden over the stupidest things. Yet somehow, you could not bring yourself to hate him. Not in the slightest. Not when you saw the way he flinched silently in class when there were loud noises. Or the way he had the habit of bouncing his knee under his desk while digging his nails into his palms. Or the way he always acted before he could think, body constantly moving to protect Taylor instinctively no matter the scenario. His reaction times were astounding and his reaction was always to protect first.
“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?” he raised one eyebrow defensively.
“It means, I don’t bite,” you adjust the tightness of the ponytail.
“I know you don’t,” he grumbles back with a mocking tone.
You let him have it, rolling your eyes.
“Yknow, this would be easier if you set the whole angry tough guy front you have down.”
Tyler shifts. He blinks repeatedly and for the first time in ever there’s a hint of genuine discomfort in his eyes. You cock your head, an apology seated on the edge of your tongue when his eyes turn sharp and cold once more. Despite that, he remains silent. You take a tentative step back.
“You still up for that walk?” you try again, softer this time. There was a silent peace treaty hidden in the simple question. Tyler adjusts himself then nods and steps up to meet your pace. You both sync your walking easily as you make the round.
The silence is slightly awkward but otherwise, peaceful. No squabbles. No bickering. No snarky remarks and retorts.
“You really should be more careful,” he murmurs. His voice is rough around the edges but it seems he’s softening it on purpose as he speaks now, “You’re fast during short distance sprints but you lack stamina. Long distances tire your legs out.”
You’re surprised. Your head turns as you furrow your eyebrows. He doesn’t turn to face you, only staring ahead as he finishes his tiny analysis. It was true. You were one of the fastest short distance runners in the school but when it came to long distance, you couldn’t sustain yourself and that’s how you ended up falling or twisting your ankle. It was about stamina. Pacing.
“Yeah-” you breathe out, still surprised he had noticed- “I’ve gotta work on that.”
He hums in agreement, a hint of sterness in his voice as he gives you a sidelong glance.
“You should practice running distances between the graveyard and Ashlyn's house, and run laps around the perimeter. It’ll get you familiar with it faster.”
You nod, processing the fact that he had just given you genuinely helpful advice.
“Thank-”
“If not you’re gonna keep falling over yourself and be useless,” he adds quickly after.
You press your lips into a thin, annoyed line.
We can’t be nice for two seconds-
“Thanks.” you maintain, albeit with a hint of annoyance.
He hums again. There’s a small pause as you both look away from each other and focus back on the distance. He casts a glance in your direction then quickly looks away.
“You’re welcome.” He mumbles so roughly and quietly, you can barely make it out.
Huh. So it’s not all grunts with him.
You smile and open your mouth to say something but he speeds up his pace to outmatch yours.
“C'mon already,” he calls out roughly.
You purse your lips and speed up. He pauses a short distance ahead, still watching your twisted ankle carefully. Even if he is being a jackass, he doesn’t want to push you too far. However, you seem to be holding up quite well. Nearly back to normal, in fact. He waits for you to nearly close the distance before walking ahead again. You let out a quiet, exasperated sigh.
“Cmon, fall risk,” there’s an edge of a smirk in his voice. You scoff quietly in protest and quip back.
“Coming, jockhead.”