SIX ; REGRETS

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     ELEANOR AND TARON are on the roof, their legs folded to their chests and their arms draped over their knees. They are passing a cigarette back and forth, having decided that they should probably ration their stash — about a pack between the both of them.

"Wonder how your girl's doing," Eleanor declares before taking a drag. Taron looks at her, watching as she blows smoke out of her mouth.

"My girl?" he asks. His eyebrows raise in amusement as if she just told a terrible joke. "You mean Genevieve?" Eleanor nods, handing him the cigarette. "She's not my girl," he says with a shake of his head as he places the cigarette between his lips.

"She's not?" He shakes his head again. "What, not good in bed or something?"

"No, no. It's not that."

"Obviously. Even I'd be honored to take her home," Eleanor declares, taking back the cigarette. He chuckles, the smoke escaping from his lips.

"It's just... I don't know. Sure, she's hot and all, but she's not real, y'know? Maybe that's shitty of me to say since I just fucked her last night, but that's the thing. Can't even say 'make love' or whatever."

"You're pathetic," Eleanor says with a smile before putting the cigarette in her mouth.

"I'm serious! It's like she's a designated one night stand."

"Ouch."

"I mean, she hasn't even seen The Princess Bride. Who hasn't seen The Princess Bride?" Taron continues, scandalized.

"Oh, so you had an actual conversation with her?" Eleanor asks with raised eyebrows.

"Kind of. We played twenty questions when we slow danced."

"How romantic."

"Yeah, well, it was hard to talk about literally anything else. All she wanted to do was make out."

"So I see you've come down from your high of getting laid."

"Something about nearly getting blown to dust by war machines really grounds a guy."

Eleanor chuckles, looking up at the night sky as she brings the cigarette to her lips. Taron turns his head to her and smiles. If Eleanor were to lower her eyes to him in that moment, she would notice that despite his dimples and soft expression, a sad gleam lingers in his eyes. As he watches her gaze at the sky and at the smoke billowing into the brisk air in thick, swirling clouds, he wonders if he made a mistake by taking Genevieve to the dance and not continuing their tradition by taking her.

As she tucks her hair behind her ear and lowers her head to gaze at her combat boots, he comes to the conclusion that getting laid by the sexiest chick in their year is absolutely incomparable to spending the night with Eleanor.

A small smile spreads on Eleanor's face and she looks up, handing him the cigarette and saying, "You're too sweet, Taron."

"What do you mean?" he asks, snapping back from his thoughts.

"You completely missed the point of getting laid by someone like Genevieve Williams. It's not supposed to be sensual. If you wanted it to be romantic and magical then you should've picked someone like, I don't know, Maggie June or Rhonda Quinton."

"Or you?"

Those two words are what Taron thinks of first, but he doesn't let them escape the back of his mind, immediately dismissing the idea with, "She's my best friend."

"Yeah, maybe," Taron says, looking down at his feet. "Was Johnny romantic and magical?"

"What?" Eleanor asks as she turns her head. "Oh, right. Nah. Not much talking involved. Now, if someone like Sam Fuller were to ask me to the dance, it'd be a totally different story."

She examines the short cigarette before offering it to Taron. He shakes his head and she tosses it on the roof before stomping on it. Eleanor lays down and taps the space next to her, gesturing for Taron to follow suit. He does.

The two of them spend the next few moments in silence, looking up at the stars with their hands folded on their stomachs.

A gleam fills Eleanor's eyes as she says, "Maybe we should have just gone to the dance together. Y'know, do what we always do; slow dance once, leave early, smoke pot, and listen to actual music — not that pop shit that they always play."

Taron ponders the thought for a moment, turning his head to look at her.

"I'll take you to prom, Rigby. I promise you that."

"If we survive, that is." She pauses to sigh. "Speaking of that, so much for Columbia."

"Oi, don't say that."

"What else am I supposed to say?" Eleanor asks as she looks at him. "Everything is going to change. Columbia is far out of reach now. Even if we do survive, who knows if it'll still be standing. Every college in America could be destroyed after this."

"In that case, we'll go to Europe. Cambridge and Oxford are good schools, too," Taron says with a small smile.

"I highly doubt that New Jersey is the only place in the world that is being targetted."

"You never know. Maybe a higher power is just personally punishing this city." Eleanor gives him a look and he smiles. "C'mon, you can't jump to conclusions. Every defense force this country has is gonna beat the shit out of whatever's attacking us. Besides, we don't even know what's attacking us."

"Uh, yeah, we do. It's fuckin' aliens, Taron. I told you they were real," Eleanor replies. Taron, who was previously gazing at the sky, glances at her. He laughs when he sees she isn't joking. "I'm serious! What else would have come down in a fucking lightning storm?"

"No, no, I agree with you. It's just the look on your face," Taron says. Eleanor backhands his arm. Taron laughs, his eyes crinkling. Eleanor grins.

When Taron's laughter fades away, he looks at Eleanor with a small smile on his face.

"Thanks for making me feel better," he says.

"I hardly did anything at all," she replies. He shrugs.

Muffled calls reach their ears. Eleanor and Taron look at each other before standing up with individual sighs.

"We should've gotten high when we had the chance," Taron says as they make their way to the window.

"That's a trip I certainly don't want to have right now," Eleanor replies with a chuckle. Taron smiles, gesturing for her to crawl into her room first. He follows, closing the window behind them before pulling a pack of gum out of his pocket. He hands Eleanor a piece and she thanks him.

"Jesus, there you are," Ray says as Eleanor and Taron walk into the hallway. "Where the hell were you?"

"The roof," Eleanor replies.

"From now on, you stay in my sight at all times, okay?"

"Sorry, Ray. I was just trying to help her calm down," Taron declares. Ray pauses to look at the both of them.

"I appreciate it. Just, next time, do it in sight, yeah?" Taron nods. "Okay. Grab some blankets and pillows from the rooms and meet back downstairs."

"Why?" Eleanor questions, staying where she is as he begins walking down the stairs.

"Just do it," Ray says, glancing back at her. Eleanor rolls her eyes.

"Come on, then," Taron declares, gesturing with a nod of his head.

☁

Eleanor, Taron, Robbie, and Ray walk down the staircase and into the basement, which is the nicest room of the particular category that any of them have ever seen. All of them are carrying blankets and pillows. Eleanor is carrying her backpack, as well, and Taron the bat.

"If everything's fine, why do we have to sleep in the basement? We've got perfectly good beds," Eleanor says, looking at her father once the four of them are off the staircase. Both Ray and Taron are looking around, for Ray has never been in the basement, let alone the house, and Taron has only been down here a few times.

"It's like a slumber party," Ray replies, walking around.

"What are you afraid is gonna happen to us?" Robbie asks.

"Okay, you know when there's a tornado, and the news advises you to go to the basement for safety? It's like that. Just extra safety precautions," Ray says.

Eleanor nods, walking to the open space underneath the staircase, Taron following her. The two of them lay out their blankets and set their pillows in desired places before sitting down. Ray sits in an armchair and Robbie picks the sofa.

Robbie looks over the back of the sofa and beyond the sort of railing outlining the space underneath the staircase.

"Hey," he says in order to get his younger sister's attention. She looks up at him, previously glancing at Taron, who was setting the bat down next to where he plans to sleep. "How you doin'?"

"Fine," Eleanor replies. "You?"

"Fine," Robbie says. Taron takes off his beanie and Robbie glances at him. "Hey, Taron," Robbie starts. Taron looks up at him. "Thanks for helping out my sister."

"No problem, mate," Taron replies.

"I'm sorry about your mom."

"Thanks," Taron says with a small smile of gratitude. Robbie nods.

"Well, good night."

"Night."

"Love you," Eleanor says to her older brother.

"Love you too, Elle," Robbie replies. With that, he turns around and lays on the sofa. Ray glances at him before getting comfortable himself.

Eleanor lays the blanket over her body as she lays down, Taron following suit. Neither of them bother to take off their jackets or shoes, for they both fear that something will happen that will require them to act quickly. Besides, one of Eleanor's fears has always been that she would be left behind due to the fact that she was putting on shoes, or that she didn't have time to put on shoes and thus had to survive the apocalypse in nothing but socks — or, God forbid, her bare feet.

Eleanor and Taron lay in silence for a few moments. Taron runs his fingers through his light brown hair, willing the strands to go in desired directions and fluffing up part of the front. The sweat that previously coated his hairline makes the task relatively easy.

Finally, Taron mutters, "At least I'm not gonna die a virgin."

Eleanor turns her head to look at him, wondering if she should scold him, hit him, or start crying. Instead, she busts up laughing. Taron laughs, too.

The both of them look at the bottom of the stairs above them with small smiles on their faces once their laughter subsides. Both of them want to say more, but neither of them do.

Taron rolls over on his side, his back to Eleanor.

"Night Rigby," he mumbles.

"Goodnight Teddy."

Eleanor's eyes linger on the back of Taron's head before she rolls over, too.

☁

A couple of hours pass, allowing the four of them to fall asleep. Eleanor is laying on her side, facing Taron, her arm bent and her palm resting on the rug below them. Taron is sleeping on his back with his head turned toward Eleanor and his arm slightly bent, the back of his palm also resting on the rug below them. Eleanor's pinky is overlapping with Taron's due to the close proximity of their hands, as if they made a promise right before they fell asleep.

The moment doesn't last much longer, however, for the bushes outside of the small windows near the ceiling of the basement begin to rattle against the glass, gradually growing louder. Ray stirs slightly but the teenagers remain asleep.

Suddenly, a flash of light manages to wake Ray up, causing him to quickly stand. The next strike is loud enough to get Robbie to jump up next to him. As the strikes begin to hit just as rapidly as before, Eleanor and Taron stand up as well after briefly acknowledging the position of their hands; they looked at their pinkies and made eye contact before quickly pushing back their blankets and shooting upward, never mentioning it again.

Frozen in terror, the four of them watch through the window as the flashes of light briefly illuminate the entire room, loud sounds accompanying them.

"Is the lightning back?" Taron asks, loud enough for Ray to hear.

"No, this is something else," Ray replies. Just then, an ear-piercing noise from some sort of jet engine fills the room, causing things to fall off the shelves and the walls. Eleanor covers her ears and the boys wince.

"What's that sound?" Robbie shouts.

"I've never heard that before!" Ray yells.

"Is it them?" Eleanor screams. The flashes of light and the ear-splitting sound grows more intense by the second.

"We gotta go!" Ray shouts. "Where do we go? Robbie, this is your house — where do we go?"

As Robbie opens the door to the furnace room, Taron picks up the baseball bat and Eleanor's bag before grabbing her hand and pulling her with him, for she didn't seem to plan on moving.

Ray holds the door open as Robbie, Taron, and Eleanor run through, passing one more doorway before sprinting down the staircase. Ray manages to shut the second metal door just in time, for tenacious flames began to engulf the basement.

The four of them find themselves in complete darkness, listening to the commotion occurring beyond their room.

"Are we still alive?" Eleanor asks quietly as she looks around, desperate for her eyes to adjust.

"I think so," Taron replies, his voice right next to her. With his words, Eleanor realizes that they are still holding hands from when Taron pulled her to safety.

"Y'know, this is around the time in the horror movie where someone turns on the light and then bam, the bad guy is standing in the corner of the room with a chainsaw," Eleanor declares.

"Well, you're in luck, 'cause I can't find the light," Ray replies from somewhere to Eleanor's right. "And those things couldn't fit in here, let alone have a chainsaw, but that's not the point. Is everyone okay? Robbie, where are you?"

"Here," Robbie replies, hidden by the darkness a few feet in front of Eleanor.

"Taron?"

"I'm good."

"I feel like I'm having a heart attack," Eleanor states, beginning to panic slightly.

"Do you want me to do the talk again?" Taron asks her. His voice is quiet and personal. She can smell the wintergreen aroma on his breath, despite him having spit the gum out hours ago; she notes how close his face must be to hers.

"No, no. Just don't let go of my hand."

Taron rubs his thumb along the back of her hand a couple of times as a substitute for "I won't."

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author's note ;

even though it's a given since i wrote this i'd just like to say: i ship the shit out of eleanor and taron. teleanor? eleron? taranor? tigsby? riddy? reddy? no idea. if you wanna, comment your fav ship name to alleviate my confusion.