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“It's somehow easier to endure together.”
— Anton Chekhov, from “A Living Chattel”
It had been another close call, this time a bit more severe than the last.
Their trail was spotted and they were followed, and in the next second, a group of Phantoms were on their tail. Thankfully, they were able to lose their assailants after making an abrupt turn that led them to a secluded area a few blocks from their original destination.
He has no idea who the house they're currently occupying belongs to, but he’s not gonna complain about the shoddy paint job or the creaking floorboards so long as the place offers them some semblance of safety against the shadowy fucks trying to kill them.
Once they’ve cleared out each floor and room from any threat and boarded the entrance, exhaustion finally hits.
He supposes he should have realized how tired he was by now, how the bone-numbing ache throughout his body hums like a fresh bruise.
Tyler all but sank against the wall, pressing his forehead against the cool concrete and trying to steady himself against the pounding ache in his head.
The rest of the group were in no better shape, cut and bruised one way or the other, all of them bone tired from another brush in with death.
The night is thankfully coming to an end, checking his watch, there’s only half an hour left before their time in the Phantom dimension ends and they're back at the comforts of their own rooms.
To his immediate right, Ashlyn is already busy making preparations for their next move as she instructs Ben to tend to the injured.
Seemingly procuring a first aid kit out of thin air, Ben immediately begins to set up a makeshift cot on the living room couch.
His eyes snap back to Ashlyn upon hearing his name on her lips, her voice clear in the midst of the others. She's still very close, almost overbearing as she discreetly tried to check him over for any injuries. The expression on her face is momentarily unreadable.
“Are you hurt?” She asks, and there’s genuine concern on her face now and it stuns him from where he stood.
Tyler only blinks, not sure what to say. He's never had anyone besides Taylor ask him that question. Maybe that's why he panics and instinctively tells her he’s fine. Brushing off his injuries is second nature to him by now.
Ashlyn, thankfully, believes him and moves on to start mapping out their escape route with Logan.
He doesn’t let his mind linger on what could have happened had he just told her the truth.
Aiden was unsurprisingly first in line in Ben’s list after taking a hard hit that was meant for Logan. The blond had landed pretty badly after jumping in to distract the Phantom from its initial target, but he hadn’t been quick enough to dodge its attack completely.
Aiden still found it in himself to crack a joke in between Ben’s careful ministrations. How the little psychopath managed to keep a chipper attitude even with a limp in one leg, Tyler doesn’t care to find out. Besides, it wasn’t like the usual smile on Aiden’s face offered any kind of sincerity.
Checking the rest of their group, he spots a few shallow cuts and bruises littering most of their skin, but otherwise everyone seemed to be doing just fine. It would concern anyone else how little their group complained about split skin these days.
Funny enough, he can’t recall a time when his hands haven’t been bloodied. Not after the funeral anyway.
Shaking his darkening thoughts away, he wastes no time peeling himself from the wall to check on Taylor, his own injuries forgotten in favor of making sure his sister was unhurt.
“You doing ok?” Tyler murmurs after sliding next to where his sister sat, nudging her with his shoulder to get her attention, but mostly he wanted to reassure her he was there in case she needed anything.
Taylor gives him a smile, the action colored with her gentleness and warmth, but Tyler would recognise the exhaustion and strain behind her eyes anywhere.
“I’m fine, Ty.” She answers him softly, nudging him back playfully. There’s a big purpling bruise on her arm along with a few small cuts that weren't there earlier in the morning, and before he could ask her how she got it or even offer to clean her wounds, someone else beats him to it.
“I can fix those up for you.” Logan chimes in, a bottle of antiseptic at the ready. “It’s the least I can do since I’m probably the least injured right now.”
“No need, I can—”
“Don’t be silly, Ty.” Taylor cuts him off before he can take the bottle from Logan. “You can barely stand as is and Logan’s already offering anyway, so just get some rest please.”
Tyler felt his hands clench, fighting the torrent of concern that washed over him, his eyes lingering on her bruise. Breathing slowly to steady himself, he nods his head once and relinquishes his own seat for the other boy to take. He stays hovering behind to watch as Logan begins to clean each cut, no matter what Taylor tells him, she’ll always be his priority.
Resting can come after she’s taken care of.
In his effort to watch Logan’s meticulous work of dressing Taylor’s injuries, he’s caught completely off guard when he feels someone else’s presence next to him.
“Come with me.” Ashlyn says plainly, the words coming out in a rush. Her lips, a stern line as she met his gaze head on.
The demand was surprising, even more so when he felt the tug of her hand on his jacket sleeve, urging him to follow her.
It should be concerning how quickly he gives in once she assures him Taylor’s going to be fine, letting her all but drag him to an empty chair at the corner of the room, away from the rest of the group—from Taylor, where she all but instructs him to sit and stay still.
Funny enough, he can't seem to find it in himself to argue, not when she looks so earnest in whatever tasks she’d given herself this time around.
Their box of first aid kit sits a few inches from him and from the looks of things, Ashlyn has herself set on patching him up.
He wonders when this whole thing started. There’s never been a time when he’d gotten any help from others, and he's never been the type to reach out and ask for help. Hell, he doesn't know if he's even capable of it anymore.
But when he looks at Ashlyn, though, he finds himself wanting to try.
‘Keep still for me’ was the only instruction she gave him before holding his face in place.
Ashlyn’s eyes are focused. The expression on her face is one of determination and concentration. Silently, she begins to push his fringes away to reveal the extent of his injury. Her fingers are as rough and calloused as his when she tilts his face up for a better look, but her touch remains light, gentle. Tyler’s lungs constrict.
“This is probably going to scar.” She points to the gash on top of his eyebrow, a slight frown on her lips as she examines the rest of his injury.
“I’ll live.” He says party cause it’s true, but mostly ‘cause he can’t seem to think of anything else to say with her hand on his face.
His face is burning, both from their proximity and the gentleness of her touch, and he hopes Ashlyn can't make it out too clearly.
His thoughts are cut off abruptly when she takes a damp cloth and begins to tenderly clean the dried up blood from his face. Ashlyn’s skin is just as cool to the touch, but she's wonderfully solid and present, standing mere inches from him as she continues to dress his wounds.
He can't help closing his eyes and leaning in to the touch, so unused to receiving such a tender act from anyone else besides his own family. He finds himself savoring the simple gesture, not at all sure when he’ll be able to experience something like this again. He commits the feeling of her hands to memory, along with the slight furrow of her brows in her concentration to patch him up.
“Let me know if anything hurts.” She says in between applying antiseptic to each of his cuts before placing a cartoonish looking bandaid over it, courtesy of Aiden’s chaotic purchase. Tyler makes a mental note to never ask the blond to buy any grocery for their group unsupervised.
"Nothing hurts." Tyler answers, then pauses, furrowing his brows. "That, or I’m too exhausted to know if anything does." He adds with a dismissive shrug.
“I guess that makes both of us.” She says, a slight twitch on her lips as she continues on with her work.
Tyler has no idea how they’ve managed to stay so civil without one of them offsetting the other into an argument, or why he’s even elated with the realization. But he does, and the realization doesn’t come off as much of a surprise as he’d initially thought. He’s faced off with far worse things than growing feelings for someone else, afterall.
He doesn’t let himself ruminate on the thought for long, he’ll have plenty of time to introspect once they get back and he’s finally inside the privacy of his own room.
For now he’s content to stay, to let Ashlyn take care of him, happy to have her full attention.
It's a comfortable position, a comfortable silence. He wonders what she'd do if he filled it with something ridiculous like, 'I kind of have a crush on you.’ or ‘Your hair’s getting longer, can I tie it for you?’
Luckily he doesn’t end up humiliating himself since in the next second, her lips tilt into a full smile when she tells him she is finally done dressing his wounds, and there's something peaceful about it all that makes it easier for him. To brush his thumb across her knuckles to keep her hand in his face a little longer, meeting her surprised face unflinching.
“Thanks.” He breathed, catching her off guard once more with his sincerity.
He can feel the gears quickly turning inside her head as she tries to recalibrate and decode the meaning behind his offered gratitude.
He doesn’t rush her, content to patiently wait for her to settle and when she finally does, she nods her head in understanding.
"You’re welcome." Ashlyn murmurs. “But don’t let yourself get injured like this again.” She adds just because she couldn’t help it.
Tyler scoffs. "Not like I planned to."
"I’m serious, Tyler." Ashlyn retorts with a serious expression on her face. She takes his face in both of her hands, her expression a mixture of concern and something akin to fondness. “I need you to look out for everyone, and that includes yourself.”
The softness in Ashlyn’s voice is both unbearable and addictive.
He doesn’t know what urges him to move, but his hand slowly comes up to brush a stray hair from her face to tuck it behind her ear. The action was gentle, the tenderness seeping into the very air surrounding them.
The moment is quiet, comfortable, and jarringly intimate.
There’s a cacophony of emotions warring within himself that he desperately tries to reign in.
Tyler opens his mouth, then closes it. Inevitably, the corners of his lips lift ever so slightly at the sight of her warm gaze.
“Got it.” Tyler says quietly. His voice is rough, tender, open.
“Good. I’ll be here to patch you up again, in case you forget.” She says, finally returning his smile.
Warmth begins to flare in his chest and a part of his basks in the unfamiliarity of the feeling.
He wonders if this was the kind of love his mom used to tell him about. The kind that allows you to rest. He thinks it's fitting.
Oh, Tyler thinks with an edge of understanding.
Ever since he’s gotten to know Ashlyn, he’s been able to breathe a little easier with her by his side.
For a moment, he forgets about the pain and exhaustion and feels the heat of Ashlyn’s hands radiating against his own skin.
Tyler watches the green of her eyes flicker against the orange lamp and lets himself breathe.
The weight on his chest doesn’t disappear but it’s lighter now, and for a short moment he lets himself hope.
Even after she lets go, when their time in this dimension is up for the night and Tyler's left lying awake in his own room, staring up at the ceiling and pondering about all that’s happened, the small glimmer of hope in his chest doesn’t go away.
The feeling is both unfamiliar and comforting.