taste | e.d

bonus chapter 3

Ethan

I paused the TV at the worst possible moment.

I have to keep my eyes shut as tightly as possible while I talk to Evan, who called to check on how we were going to get through tonight.

For the third time in the past two hours.

"Yes, Evan. Are you stupid? Just stay alive!" I slam my phone down on the coffee table.

When I look at the TV, my stomach drops.

Unfortunately for me, people would save our YouTube videos when Grayson and I posted them. Therefore, when I deleted our channel, a select few were uploaded again by some of those people.

I like to torture myself by searching for them and repeatedly watching them for hours at a time.

This time I chose to watch the video where we shared stories about some of our embarrassing moments.

We are frozen in time, laughing together after Grayson said, "Oh, boy!" in mock enthusiasm.

I can't remember the last time I was that happy.

I used to mostly watch Grayson while viewing these, but it got so painful that I started watching myself. I paid attention to the way I smiled, the way I laughed and the way I'd stare at Grayson.

It's hard to believe that him leaving my side changed so much about me. But at the same time, it's not.

He was everything to me.

I keep watching the video, even mouth a few phrases that my memory has kept intact. Eventually I feel a tear make its way down my face.

Frustrated with myself, I wipe my cheek and switch YouTube over to the actual TV, where South Park is playing. I try to keep up with everything going on—something about Black Friday and a Wii console?—but my thoughts have clouded the rest of my senses and all I can think about is Grayson.

I hear the bathroom door close from inside Kendall Rose's room and I jump. I begin to remember a denim jacket I used to have, way back when I was fifteen. Kendall Rose is a lot smaller than I am. Maybe about the same size as fifteen-year-old me was. Besides, I'd like to get rid of that jacket. I'd like to get rid of all my memories. They all remind me of him.

I wish I could fucking wake up with amnesia.

Isn't that a song?

Before I have to cross paths with Kendall Rose, I bolt to my room and rummage through piles and piles of old clothes sitting in the very back of my closet. After a minute or so of digging around, I come across it and yank it out.

I make my way back to the couch and clutch the jacket in one hand, the remote in the other.

Why give it to her out of all the other girls you've brought home?

My leg bounces anxiously, so fast that I feel like I may have an anxiety attack.

Because she's different.

When I hear the door open, my leg stops moving. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. When she reaches the end of the hall, she searches around, looking for me. Once she spots me, she takes a small step forward.

I look at her, pretending that I just noticed she was there, and stand up, the jacket clasped between my fists.

"I used to wear this when I was like fifteen and I honestly don't know why I still have it. Check if it fits and if it does, you can keep it." She gently takes it from me, her finger brushing mine in the handoff.

She slips it on and looks up at me, a grin in her eyes. She doesn't exactly say thank you, and normally I'd be the person to call her out for it. But instead I keep my mouth shut and turn my back to her as I return to the couch.

My gaze remains glued to the TV, but from my periphery, I see her own slide down to the frames on the coffee table in front of me.

No.

She takes one of them and inspects it, smiling softly. Of course she's smiling. Grayson's visible happiness had that effect on people.

Bewilderment and awe skip over her face the longer she looks at the photos. It's the same face everyone else made whenever they'd see Grayson and I standing next to each other. Automatically, I predict the question that comes next.

"You have a twin?"

"Yeah," I say. I try to keep looking at the TV, but my act falters, so I stare at the ground.

"What happened to him?" she asks. It's like she could feel the sadness radiating off of me when I last spoke. People always ask, "Where is he? Do you still talk?"

She knows something happened. That's not something a lot of people can see. That only exists when they know how it feels.

We feel the same way.

"What's his name?" she says, a little more cautious. And I know why. It's just in case he's still alive and so she won't accidentally offend me by saying "was."

So I decide to tell her without hesitation.

"His name was Grayson. He passed away three years ago."

She nods, staying quiet.

I could not have asked for a better response.

I'm tired of hearing "I'm sorry for your loss." I'm tired of hearing "It's okay, it will get better. The pain will go away."

Her silence is better than anything I could have ever hoped for because she knows.

No one else ever knows.

•••

My writer's block has been really bad and I hardly have time to write anymore because of school. I'm sorry for another dumb chapter. I literally wrote like 100 words when I started this and then took a break on it for like 5 days and wrote the rest just now.

I feel like I'm letting y'all down smh. I'm sorry. I'll try to get back on it.

Love you guys.

(p.s. - OH MY GOD THE VIDEO TODAY. FUCKING ICONIC. ETHAN CURSED SO MUCH AND AT THE END HE WAS SO CUTE I'M LIVING)

😰😍👏🏼😤😩💦

- yar