𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 ﾒ 𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘺

☾☼ epilogue

AS THEY HEAR THE SIRENS GROWING LOUDER AND LOUDER, TATUM AND ETHAN EXCHANGE A KNOWING GLANCE, SILENTLY AGREEING THAT IT'S TIME TO LEAVE. They both struggle to stand up, their bodies feeling heavier and more painful than they did before. They stumble towards the exit, their clothes stained with blood and their faces grimacing in pain.

Ethan's hand instinctively goes to his side where he was shot, feeling the warm, sticky blood seeping through his shirt. Tatum limps beside him, holding her side where she was slashed, her own blood staining her clothes.

Finally, they push open the doors, stepping out into the cool, fresh air of the early morning. The wailing sirens are much louder now, and they can see the flashing blue and red lights of police cars in the distance.

People are still in their Halloween costumes, some still carrying candy bags or wearing fake vampire fangs. They give Tatum and Ethan high fives, congratulating them on their amazing costumes and commenting on how wild Halloween was this year. Tatum and Ethan simply nod, unable to find the energy to explain the reality of what happened.

Instead, they just keep walking, aimlessly wandering through the city. The adrenaline that had been coursing through their veins is starting to wear off, replaced by a heavy feeling of exhaustion and despair.

Ethan looks over at Tatum, their eyes meeting in a silent understanding. "Where are we going?" he asks, his voice hoarse and tired.

Tatum shrugs, a sad smile on her face. "IHOP," she says simply, her voice barely above a whisper.

When they finally arrive at the pancake house, they sink into a booth, their bodies slumped with exhaustion. The waitress who comes over to take their order is the same one they had seen on their last visit, and her eyes widen with surprise as she takes in their battered appearance.

"Oh, did that serial killer get to you again, honey?" she asks, concern etched on her face.

"Shit, he did, yeah," Tatum responds, a tired smile on her face. "But it was the last time."

"That's quite good news, dear," the waitress says, her eyes softening with sympathy. "How about some cupcake pancakes to celebrate?"

Tatum shrugs, the first hint of a smile crossing her lips. "Sure, why the fuck not."

Blood trickles down Tatum's face from the big gash on her brow, and she winces as she touches it with her fingertips. Ethan quickly grabs a handful of napkins, wets them in his glass of water, and gently cleans the wound for her.

Tatum hisses in pain as he applies pressure to the cut, but she doesn't pull away. 

"I think that's gonna need stitches," he says softly, looking up at her with concern etched on his face.

Tatum nods, her expression grim. "Yeah. And you might need to get those bullets removed from your shoulders," she adds, gesturing towards the bloodstained shirt covering his wounds.

Ethan shrugs it off with a small smirk. "Meh. I barely use my shoulders anyway."

Tatum rolls her eyes but can't help but smile. 

They both know that they need medical attention, but they also know that they can't risk going to a hospital with their current appearances. The sirens in the distance only serve to confirm their fears.

So, instead, they eat the fucking cupcake pancakes and pretend they're not staining the booth with thick, dark red blood.

Tatum grabs a napkin and starts writing a poem. Something about flowers and bees. Her hand is shaking, and she keeps looking up, lost in thought. Ethan watches her, noticing how her forehead creases in concentration, and how her lips move silently as she forms each word. He wants to ask her what the poem is about, but he knows she'll share it with him when she's ready.

Out of nowhere, Tatum asks Ethan, ''did you know I'm a natural blonde?'' He's taken aback by the sudden change of subject, but he nods in response. 

''You dye it black?'' he asks.

''Uhum,'' she sighs, looking down at the napkin. Ethan notices a sadness in her eyes that he's never seen before. 

''Because of your aunt?'' he asks gently, hoping to offer some comfort.

Tatum looks up at him, her eyes filled with emotion. ''I guess I wanted to be my own person,'' she says softly.

Ethan nods understandingly. He knows what it's like to feel trapped by expectations, to want to break free and be your own person. ''I didn't know your aunt. I only know one Tatum Riley, sitting right in front of me. And I love her,'' he tells her sincerely.

Tatum smiles, and Ethan feels a weight lifted off his chest. ''I love you too. And I'm so fucking mad at you,'' she says, her tone serious.

''But you're going to let me make it up to you,'' he more asks than anything.

''I will. And it's going to take you a long damn time,'' Tatum warns, but Ethan doesn't mind. He knows they have all the time in the world.

Tatum uses the pen to doodle on the back of her hand. She starts with a delicate outline of a flower, carefully filling in each petal with tiny crosshatchings. As she works, she looks up at Ethan. There's a soft smile on his lips, and she can't help but feel a warmth in her chest at the sight of him.

Without a word, Tatum gestures for Ethan to give her his hand. He does, and she takes it gently, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers. With the same careful attention she gave to the flower, she begins to sketch a tiny bee on the back of his hand. Her hand is steady, her strokes sure as she brings the little insect to life.

With his hand still in hers, Tatum looks up at Ethan, her eyes shining. "I think blonde hair will look good in California," she says.

Ethan is surprised by the sudden shift in topic. "California?"

"It feels like fucking ages ago, but you said we could just leave. Is the offer still on the table?" she asks.

"I'll go wherever you go. Wherever you want," Ethan responds, his voice low and earnest.

"Scars and all, E.T.," Tatum says, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

"Scars and all, Riley," Ethan replies, his eyes never leaving hers.