December 3

*.*.*.*.*.*

I know I probably shouldn't, but I still spend the rest of the day thinking about what could be wrong with Shane. It's not like I have anything better to do, with both my parents being absolutely invisible.

Finally plucking up the courage to face them, I knock on my mom's door and wait. I wait and wait, sighing after about ten minutes and fifteen knocks. Maybe she just doesn't want to see me.

My room feels too quiet and I plug in my earphones and switch on the auto-play of YouTube before closing my eyes and lying down. The music is so loud and new that it blocks out my thoughts, keeping me indifferent for the two hours before my head finally begins to pound and I fall asleep near three a.m. I wake up with a heavy head and burning eyes, but also another revelation.

Taking a quick bath and changing, I grab my school bag and run out of my room. I'm usually not this excited to get to school and my haste is not excitement even today.

I just need to find Shane.

Sometimes I feel like I've lost everything. I lost my twin brother, my biggest support system and my closest family member. I lost my parents, their love and fleeting attention. I lost the sense of control I had over my life, with everything spinning out of control and leaving me staring after it with helplessness in my mind and heart. And now ... I feel like I'm losing Shane.

I won't lose Shane.

The first glimpse I catch of him is when he's going into a class with Carlos. I call after him from the other side of the busy hallway and he probably doesn't hear me. He enters the class and I huff.

The next time I see him, he's standing with a teacher and talking animatedly about something. As much as I would like to interrupt them, when he enters the teacher's office at his side, I can't do anything but wait.

The third time I see him, he's glancing around before diving into the boys' bathroom. Unlike last time when I followed him in because there was no one else around, I wait for him to come out because people coming and going. I finally leave my toting pole when I have to get to class. Shane hasn't been out yet.

"Are you okay?" Marla asks me. "You look kind of sick."

"Didn't sleep well last night," I quickly excuse myself, not wanting to go into detail of all my exaggerated yet very rational features.

It isn't until after school that I tell my friends I'll be riding back home with Shane. I don't consider it a lie, because if all goes well, I will be going home in Shane's navigator and not on foot.

Standing beside his car and hugging my torso, I see him making his way out of the school building with his friends as usual. I lick my lower lip and inhale a deep breath, telling my heart to stop beating so fast. I don't even know why I'm so anxious.

When Shane finally spots me, though, the paleness of his face tells me I have every reason to be anxious.

'Please be wrong, Taylor,' I keep telling myself, 'please just be wrong.'

I expect Shane to come rushing over as soon as he sees me -- that's what the old Shane would do -- but he doesn't. Instead, he stands with Carlos for a long time, talking and looking down on his phone. My cheeks feel hot and I want to leave, embarrassed for trying to force a conversation when he clearly doesn't want to have one. I want answers, though, so I stand my ground. He'll have to face me eventually.

Nobody can run forever.

When Shane finally looks my way, he shoots me an exasperated look that is highly uncharacteristic of him. It makes my heart stop for an unnaturally long time before starting at double speed.

Why is he mad at me?

Nonetheless, when Shane heads over and pulls out his keys from his pocket, he forces a tight-lipped smile that he probably hopes I won't see through. I do see through it, though, too accustomed to his warm, natural smile that makes his eyes sparkle and causes my heart to melt.

"Can we talk?" I ask as soon as he's close enough to hear me.

Shane doesn't answer for a few moments, unlocking his car with the tiny remote and pulling open the door a fraction.

"I really have to be somewhere. Can we talk later?"

His eyes flicker to my wide ones and I'm sure he's trying to dismiss me as politely as he can. His avoidance and distant demeanor give him away, though. He's lying and he's hiding.

"It'll just be a minute," I insist, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"Taylor --"

"Have you taken Adderall again?"

Mouth hanging open mid-sentence, Shane stares at me. I don't know what caught him off guard, the fact that I know what he's doing or that I'm actually bringing it up so bluntly. He finally looks away and exhales a sharp breath.

"I have to go," Shane says, pulling the door open wider.

"You promised, Shane," I speak up quickly. "You promised you wouldn't do it again and I wouldn't tell anyone."

The loud slam of his car door makes me jump but I pull myself together, refusing to give away how I'm feeling because of him. Shane huffs, licking his lips and gazing around the nearly deserted parking lot to make sure nobody is listening. There are a few other cars around but not a soul in sight.

"What do you want, Taylor?" Shane demands.

I swallow, trying to keep my cool. "So you did use it?"

Shane scoffs, shifting on his feet and taking a few absent-minded steps back and forth.

"Please," I say, my breathing getting shallow. "Shane, we have to get help. You can't keep doing this."

He closes his eyes and sighs, shaking his head. "It's only a few more months. I'll go to college and I won't need it anymore."

"You can't be serious." I stare at him. "You really think you'll stop then? The pressure is only going to get worse. More assignments, more courses. The bigger the name, the tougher it will be. How will you manage then when you're giving in under --"

"You don't know what it's like, okay?" Shane snaps, throwing up his hands. "You don't know what it's like trying to keep my parents happy."

I reach out to him but he takes a step back, putting distance between us.

"My dad didn't talk to me for three days, Taylor," he tells me, anger and helplessness evident in his voice and every line of his face. "Three days, he completely ignored my existence. He didn't look at me, didn't answer anything I said. My mom told me he was mad because I lost and I actually -- I fucking got down on my knees to tell him I'm sorry I let him down."

Tears sparkle in his eyes and I don't know what to say.

"I don't know what else to do, Taylor," he admits. His face is stricken, eyes sad, and shoulders slumped. "He didn't talk to me and I didn't know what else to do so I ... I don't know how else to handle this. I just don't want to upset them. Jackson did. I can't do the same."

"This is not the way, Shane," I say, hating how weak and small he sounds.

I don't know when he last admitted to someone how overwhelming everything is for him. He keeps pretending he's perfect, that his life is perfect. His facade is so flawless, everybody believes it.

"You can't let what Jackson did define you," I contend. "You can't let that determine your stance. It's not right. Don't let the past control you."

Shane suddenly laughs, a humorless sound that makes me want to pull back. It's dark and sharp, forced out by someone who just doesn't want to talk anymore.

"You're one to talk, huh?" Shane grins, the smile not reaching his eyes. "Don't let the past define you? You're still living in the shadow of your brother. He's gone but you're constantly pretending he'll come back. I'm using Adderall to fix something and you're not even doing that."

I stare at him, unable to believe he's the one saying any of this. His dark eyes, his curt tone, the rage shaking through his entire being, this is not the Shane I know. Or maybe it is and I never even knew him.

"Don't let Jackson's act define you." Shane laughs, repeating my words to me. "What if I told you not to let Carter's suicide define you? Do you even see how much it's affected you? You keep acting like you're okay, so mature and so calm, always ready to help and fix things. Helping your friends, being there for strangers ... you're not helping me for me, Taylor, you're helping me because you don't want me to end up like Carter. You don't care about me. You just don't want me to kill myself."

A shaky breath escapes my lips and I feel like I've been punched in the gut. My knees feel weak and my legs threaten to give out from underneath me, my body swaying under the weight of his words. Shane probably doesn't notice, lifting his gaze to the sky darkening slowly. The clouds passing overhead casting eerie shadows down at us but I don't even notice, still failing to comprehend Shane's words and the truth behind them.

Is this really what I'm doing?

Am I really only trying to help Riley and Marla, even Shane, because of what Carter did? Would I have done this if Carter had not killed himself? Am I really letting Carter's death define who I am as a person?

"We're both the same, Taylor," Shane says, head thrown back so that he's staring up at his sky. "We're both just aftermaths of a tragedy."

My heart feels like it's about to burst. I don't know how right Shane is in his assumptions about me but is he really? Am I really just a product of my brother's suicide? Has it really shaped me to the point that I'm no longer my own person but simply the aftermath of a tragedy?

I bow my head and sniffle, nodding slightly.

"You might be right," I say, my voice cracked and low. "About everything. Except one ..."

I look up to see Shane staring at me.

"I ... do care about you," I choke out.

The last thing I see before spinning on my heels is a flash of regret on Shane's face. Guilt fills his eyes and his lips part. As for me, I turn away and begin a brisk walk away from him. I don't know how I'll get home as the first drops of rain begin to fall, accompanied by the sudden roaring of the sky. All I know is I want to get as far away from Shane as possible.

So even when he calls after me, I don't stop.

And even when he says "Taylor, wait!" I don't wait.

*.*.*.*.*.*

A/N: Did Shane go too far? But how right is he about what he said? Are Shane and Taylor simply aftermaths of a tragedy? I know we don't see things this way but so many of them shape us. How good or bad that is, well, it depends I guess.