Chapter Text
(“Smile, Aiden.” His mother whispers sharply—long, bony fingers tightly digging into his shoulder. Aiden rolls his eyes.
The photographer grimaces from behind his tripod. “To the left.” She motions with her hand; his father pats Aiden's back. The touch is gentle enough, but Aiden knows what it is—a cane, a cattle prod. Regardless, Aiden obliges, scooting closer towards his mother.
His clothes are heavy and stiff. The tie around his neck is all too tight, and the strong nodes of Turkish rose from his mother's Frédéric Malle perfume makes his nostrils sting. It carries the same potency as a roundhouse kick to the teeth.
He would give anything to be anywhere else. He would give anything to be anyone else.
Click. Flash.
He is inundated by the blinding flash of the camera; a moment of misery forever frozen in time. Precious memories.
His father holds his prized trophy in one hand—some sort of publishing award. Aiden doesn't really know; he doesn't really care. His father holds his precious publishing trophy in one hand, his precious trophy wife in the other, and has his precious trophy son nearby. That's all he really is and he knows it—just another accolade for his parents to show off for the house guests; just another pretty face for their books and magazines; just a pretty, white smile.
Aiden is ten years-old and surrounded by wealth—drowning in it, really. He has a good life, by all accounts and measures, the best life. People would kill to have what he has for just one day.
How is it possible to have so much but feel so empty?
He isn't smiling in the picture; he will get an earful about it later.)
“—and what is this exactly?” Tyler says, voice dripping with disapproval. Somehow, his staple frown manages to deepen as he surveys the small pile of letters that Aiden has placed on the picnic table. There are four to be exact, each bearing a very familiar names. Taylor Hernandez. Tyler Hernandez. Ashlyn Banner. Logan Fields.
Logan and Ashlyn both squint skeptically at the letters. The red-haired girl feels an slight, unexplainable dread beginning to gnaw at her stomach.
“—wait! Just hear me out before you say no.” Aiden quickly injects—an anxious smile wavering on his face. He's nervous, Ashlyn realizes. Her curiosity deepens. Ben, too, exudes anxiety; the silent boy rubs at the back of his neck.
Taylor doesn't share the same reservations as her brother and friends—rather, the brunette girl is eager to pick up her allotted envelope and inspect it.
“Oooh, I love the fancy wax seal!” She admires happily.
“That's the spirit!” Aiden says. “As I was saying…” The blond boy clears his throat with an uncharacteristic uncertainty. “Uh, well—you see, my parents do this…thing—”
“—Just spit it out, doofus.” Tyler drones. He has finally picked up his letter by the time his twin sister has opened her envelope to read the letter inside.
“—It’s an invitation.” Taylor observes.
“—Yes, about that—”
Logan, too, has warily picked up his envelope—leaving Ashlyn's letter alone on the picnic table. “Where is Ben's letter?” The boy asks.
.”Already invited.” Ben quickly signs. The boy gives a thumbs up and a reassuring smile.
“—See, it's a family thing.” Aiden chimes in. “If you'd just let me explain—”
“—A gala?” Taylor gaps.
“Nope.” Tyler drops the letter like it's on fire. “Absolutely not.”
Finally, Ashlyn reaches for her envelope, delicately breaking the seal with her fingers. Aiden seems to ease ever so slightly when she, at least, takes the letter.
‘Ashlyn Banner,
In association with Aiden Clark, your presence is requested at the Annual Clark & Co. Celebratory Gala…’
Ashlyn’s eyes skim down the letter. ‘…Formal attire…Ballroom dancing…red carpet…buffet…’
“—so my parents publish a magazine—”
“—Tabloid.” Tyler butts in with a scenical smile. Aiden ignores him, getting slightly louder.
“—and every year, they host this…gala, banquet thingy for all the suckers involved in the process.” The boy’s trademark smile is wide and in tact, but Aiden refuses to make eye contact with any of his peers.
He really is nervous, Ashlyn can't help but notice once more.
“—Models, journalists, sponsors, blah, blah, blah, you get the gist—” Aiden prattles off, seemingly bored with himself.
“—And you're inviting us why exactly…?” Ashlyn finally inquires, quirking a brow.
“Yeah, what Carrots said.” Tyler tags on, earning a brief, yet fiery glare from Ashlyn.
Aiden shrugs. “Eh, don't know—thought it'd be more fun with you guys.”
Taylor props her elbow up on Aiden's shoulder. “I think it could be really fun!” She says, smiling hopefully. “I know there is a lot at stake for us, but I think it might be good to just…live a little, y'know? Just for a night.” After a long moment, Taylor breaks eye contact with the group. “We don't really have fun anymore.” She admits quietly.
Ashlyn looks beside her as Logan reads his letter intently. He is paler than usual, brows tightly knit. Somehow, Logan almost looks more anxious than Aiden, Ashlyn thinks.
“Will…there be a lot of pictures taken?” Logan asks warily. “I…uh, don't really like having my picture taken.”
“Oh, there are definitely a lot of pictures taken.” Aiden confirms, “But there are a few designated areas where photography isn't allowed. You could probably hang there if you wanted.”
“Look, I appreciate that you thought of us. Really sweet of you.” Tyler interrupts sarcastically. “But I don't have time stuff like this.”
“Sorry to say it, but I actually have to agree with Tyler.” Ashlyn says. Tyler isn't sure whether to look offended or accomplished. She continues, “It would be nice to have some fun, but we need to put all our extra energy into figuring out how to cut our ties with the phantom realm.” Ashlyn's eyes grow dark. “Especially now that our parents are being affected.”
The group sobers for a moment.
They had been indescribably fortunate that both Tyler and Aiden had recovered from their fatal accidents in the Phantom Realm—and now that their parents are aware of the horrors they faced each night, everyone was working tirelessly to find a solution.
But on top of that, almost all of their parents had confirmed they had been seeing things—phantoms. If that is true, than that means the rift between the two dimensions had been compromised. And if that is true, than endless unfathomable repercussions are bound to arise.
Just thinking about it all makes Ashlyn's head hurt.
“Come on, you guys.” Aiden says, “Just one night. It'll be a ball.” He winks. “Literally. There will be dancing and that crap.”
“I, for one, think we should.” Taylor says encouragingly, wrapping one arm around Ben and the other around Aiden. Both boys noticably lighten.
Logan sighs. “My one hesitation—” He stops himself. “One of my many hesitations,” Logan rephrases, “—is about the shift. We don't know exactly how far we can travel in the real world before we start teleporting in the Phantom Realm. What happens if we get shifted while at the gala and suddenly are stuck in a brand new location with little to no defenses?”
Again, the group lapses into silence.
“That's a great point,” Ashlyn states. It is an incredibly legitimate concern, but despite its validity, Aiden doesn't seem to be troubled.
“I'll make sure we are all back by midnight.” He assures the two of them. “Pinky promise.” The blond boy says with a smile, holding out his pinky.
Ashlyn shares a long look of uncertainty with Logan. This doesn't end well, they both know it. From behind his glasses, Logan's eyes implore with her own. Ashlyn watches them, baby blue and anxious, as Logan exhales a deep, shaky breath. He submits. Despite his reservations, Logan resigns himself to Ashlyn's judgement.
She turns. How hopefully Taylor and Ben wait for her, in their faces is a lightness she hasn't seen in a long time—maybe ever. Tyler crosses his arms. He won't be happy about it, but Ashlyn knows he'll follow wherever Taylor leads him.
Finally, the red-haired girl turns to Aiden. Though she thought it impossible, Aiden’s smile widens.
It's a different kind of smile than the admittedly unsettling one she is used to seeing smeared across his face. This smile is something more vulnerable and raw; genuine and unmasked. It is almost like a secret shared between them.
“Pinky promise.” She says quietly, taking his pinky in her own.
‘Social Bootcamp’ is written in big, black letters at the top of the white board. Almost immediately following the shift, Aiden and Taylor had herded the group into their renovated school bus. The two of them now stand before them expectantly.
“What is this, a group project?” Tyler scoffs, leaning back into the sofa. “Are we really going to spend our time in the Phantom Dimension talking about good manners?”
“Point and case,” Taylor says, pointing at her brother. “Look, guys,” She says, eyeing the four of them on the couch with poorly masked concern. She folds her hands. “I love you all more than life, but we aren't exactly the most socially adept friend group in the world.”
She is met with blank stares.
“Oookay, as I was saying…” Taylor turns to the white board, “I just thought maybe it would be good to go over some basic etiquette and a few scenarios to help us…acclimate to gala standards. Aiden is going to help since he is familiar with how these shindigs go.”
Aiden excitedly nods, grinning menacingly.
“Oh boy,” Ashlyn mutters quietly to herself. Ben seems slightly uncomfortable next to her. On her other side, Logan retrieves a pencil and notebook from his bag.
“Okay! Scenario one: someone cheerfully approaches you and says they love your outfit! What do you do?” Taylor asks. She is shockingly met with silence and more blank stares. Tyler snorts. Logan tugs nervously at his collar.
“...Hmm, okay, let's try to get some back and forth going...Ashlyn, I'm going to pretend we've never met before, and you're going to play along, okay?” Taylor says, collecting herself briefly before approaching Ashlyn.
“Hey! I don't think we've met yet. I'm Taylor! It's nice to meet you, and I absolutely love your outfit!” She says, holding out her hand to Ashlyn.
Ashlyn is slow to react, looking Taylor up and down with a quirked brow. Warily, the red-head takes the girl’s extended hand.
“...thanks.” Ashlyn says dryly.
Taylor slowly nods, as if to insinuate she is looking for something more substantial. Ashlyn can't help but be amused with the desperation in Taylor's eyes. Taylor means well, and of course Ashlyn doesn't want to make things difficult for her friend.
Well…
Ashlyn also didn't really want to go to this ritzy little gala; much less did she want to train for it.
Surely she has the right to be a little bit difficult…
“...thank you..?”
Taylor clicks her tongue, and Ashlyn can't help but savor the resignation in her friend's eyes.
“...Yeah, okay, not bad...” Taylor says, slightly discouraged. But Ashlyn knows Taylor well enough by now to know what this really means is, ‘Oh, Ashlyn Banner, you are a lost cause.’
“—Maybe you could throw in something like, ‘Thank you! I actually got it on sale at the Jane Willow Boutique,’ or something like that to keep the conversation rolling.” Taylor says supportively. She looks to the others—Ben, Tyler, and Logan—to make sure they are tracking. “Does that make sense?”
Logan raises his hand.
“Yes, Logan?”
“So, the longer the conversation is, the better?” He asks tentatively.
“Good question!” Taylor says, taking a brief moment to think. “Not necessarily. There is definitely a sweet spot. Here,” She turns to Aiden. “We will demonstrate what a good length for a conversation looks like.”
Ashlyn does not miss the quickest flash of mischief in Aiden's eyes. The boy quickly bends back to crack his spine as he gets into character.
This will be fun…
“Taylor!” Aiden exclaims, going in for a swift hug. “I haven't seen you since the photoshoot in Sarasota! How have you been?”
Taylor beams back. “Aiden! It's wonderful to see you! I'm doing great! My agent is keeping me pretty busy—”
Suddenly Aiden gets serious, pulling Taylor close. “—I heard about you and Mark.” He says in a low voice. “I bet that was super difficult and messy to work though.”
Taylor looks shaken, but does her best to roll with Aiden's spontaneity. She gives a nervous chuckle. “—Yeah, it was difficult at first, but there are no hard feelings—”
“—I mean, to get put on chemo and then to have your snake of a husband leave you high and dry to hook up with his side piece…when it rains it pours, am I right?!” Aiden cackles maniacally. “Wait, are you wearing a wig, tonight?”
The bus is dead silent. Taylor's eye twitches.
This is going to be a long night.
“Okay, thanks, Aiden,” Taylor decides to end their scenario for some reason. “That was actually a really great example of something not to do. Which is…” The brunette girl turns so fast to the white board that her long hair very nearly whacks Aiden in the face. Whipping out a red dry-erase marker, Taylor quickly jots on the board: ‘Topics to Avoid,’ in notably stylish handwriting.
“Okay,” She claps, scanning her less than captive audience. “What might be some good topics to avoid at an important social event?”
Logan briefly pauses taking notes and raises his hand.
“Yes, Logan?”
“Marital adultery?”
“Yes! Great answer!” Taylor affirms, quickly turning to write on the board. She pauses briefly, quietly whispering to herself, “...How do you spell…oh nevermind.” She settles for writing ‘relationship strife,’ instead.
“Aiden also alluded to a potential cancer diagnosis, which is very sad,” Taylor frowns, “In general, it is a good idea to avoid sensitive subjects like, “Health, politics, religion—you get the picture.”
Logan's hand, once more, raises into the air. The slightest smirk tugs at the corner of Ashlyn's lips.
“...Yes, Logan.”
“What are we allowed to talk about?” Logan says,
“Anything that doesn't matter.” Tyler mutters under his breath without looking away from his phone screen. Ben looks away and purses his lips—Ashlyn can tell he is trying not to laugh.
“I can answer this one.” Aiden steps in enthusiastically. “Logan, my favorite topics to discuss with guests and patrons are brutal torture tactics throughout the medieval era, the mental health epidemic in the youth of today, and capybaras—”
It is indeed a long evening.
“Okay,” Ashlyn sighs in resignation. Even though they are her friends and she is relatively comfortable with them, she hates how she can feel all of their attentive eyes on her.
How did she get roped into this?
“The most basic of waltz steps is called a ‘box step,’ because you are pretty much just stepping in a box shaped pattern on the floor.” Ashlyn explains dryly. “It is in three-four timing, and…” She thinks for a moment. “...here, it would probably just be easier to show you. Aiden—”
“Yup!” The blonde boy has already bounced up from the spar tire he had been sitting on and is on his feet awaiting her command.
She proceeds cautiously. “...Yeah, can you help me for a sec.”
“Anything for you, Ash.” Aiden smirks, lightly placing her hand on his back, while she puts her hand on his shoulder. “—Don’t get any ideas,” She hisses in his ear just loud enough for him to hear it.
Aiden wiggles his eyebrows.
Ashlyn rolls her eyes.
“Okay, so, Aiden's first step will be forward with his left foot—” And the two are in motion, slowly swaying in step as Ashlyn calls out their steps. “—step back with your right foot and—”
—Aiden is looking at her. In fact, he hasn't stopped looking at her since they started this little dance of theirs. The realization causes her to stumble just slightly; not enough for Taylor, Tyler, Ben, or Logan to notice. But Aiden catches it; he knows these steps as well as she does. “Careful, Red.” Comes his sly whisper. Ashlyn's cheeks burn bright with embarrassment and irritation.
After another rotation or two, Ashlyn stops, nervously clears her voice, and looks back at their audience. “Uh, okay. Now, I want you guys to take turns dancing with either me or Aiden so we can walk you through the steps.”
She gets a variety of mixed looks—Taylor’s excitement is counter balanced by Tyler's immense displeasure. Ben stands, ready and cooperative, while Logan looks like he might throw up.
“Don't all come at once!” Aiden cackles. “Come on, half-wit—don’t you want to share a sentimental waltz under the stars with your bestie—”
Tyler answers loud and clear without uttering a single word, instead flashing Aiden crude gesture.
It's a bittersweet picture, Ashlyn thinks as the night goes on. The six sleepless children stumbling over each other's feet beneath the crimson skies, swaying to the distant, bone chilling shrieks of murderous eldritch entities. At some point—Ashlyn isn't really sure when—she stops hearing the demented cracking and hissing of the phantoms just outside the walls. And she stops hearing all the other ominous and unexplainable noises of the hellscape they are trapped in for the first time in, well, her entire life.
—Because all she can hear is her friends. They are laughing, and singing, and apologizing as they trip, stepping on each other's toes over and over. Taylor is beaming with warmth, holding her friends and family close. She is completely untethered from a burden Ashlyn had never before noticed she carried with her.
Ben is smiling bigger than Ashlyn has ever seen him smile—he is a natural at dancing; she is willing to bet his experience with music enables him to move in perfect step and syncopation.
Logan is considerably looser; glasses abandoned and shoved into his shirt pocket long ago just to make sure they didn't get broken. Though his eyes rarely leave his feet, tending meticulously to the order and placement of his steps, she can tell he is enjoying himself.
And, it takes a while, but at some point even Tyler joins the fray—unable to restrain the slightest glimmer of childhood in his eyes. His movements are firm and intentional—he is an athlete through and through.
At some point, she ends back with Aiden—and this time, he pulls out all his tricks. They spin, twirl, and dip until they are both laughing too.
It is another long night.
—And, for the first time, she wishes it didn't have to end.