Cinnamon Muffins Chapter 15: Time Spent as a Human Burrito
Spoiler: Romantic Confession Part 2 Electric Booglaoo
Wes finally realizes where he is after an indeterminate amount of time spent as a human burrito, watching Jeopardy reruns, sharing body heat with Taylor. He's not really sure how he got here, but he's sure it was because of something scary, so he avoids thinking about it. He can feel the textured skin of Taylor's arm pressed against his. Everything else is swaddled in softness that he recognizes to be one of the comforters that had been on the pullout couch. He must be sitting on the pullout couch. That's probably why he can see the TV, playing a Jeopardy rerun.
In similar, eddying tides, Wes becomes conscious. When he is fully conscious and aware, and has therefore exhausted any other distraction, he finally tries to remember why he is here, sharing a human burrito with Taylor on the pullout couch watching Jeopardy reruns.
It hits him instantly, like the memories had rung the doorbell long ago and had since been waiting, ready to run inside the moment he opened the door.
Holy shit.
He could have—
Taylor almost--
They could have died.
Wes remembers the feeling of dandelion vines tangling his legs, binding him to the ground, wrapping himself around Taylor to try and keep him warm-- he remembers a bathtub, and he remembers Taylor screaming--
"Taylor?" he whispers, hoarsely, panicked.
There's an acknowledging shift in the human burrito, but Taylor doesn't answer.
"Taylor, you weren't, I mean you w-weren't-t-t actually going t-t-to-- ya know?"
"Wasn't gonna what?" Taylor mutters. He scoots infinitesimally away from Wes, and the difference is frigid.
"Die," Wes whispers. "I mean, you weren't t-tr-trying to, right?"
Taylor doesn't answer.
A little ball of resentment makes itself known in Wes's solar plexus, not new but enlivened. His mind replays Tuesday morning, where Wes had told Taylor that he liked him, and Taylor had said he liked him back, and then Taylor had told him they couldn't date because Wes deserves better.
The resentment grows. Who had told Taylor that you needed to be good enough to be in a relationship? Who told him Wes was worth more than him-- worth more than even the 2-cent-per-square-foot linoleum tiles at school? Who told him he was worth less?
The resentment sears hissing, spitting pain into Wes's ribs. Maybe it's resentment at a world that would push Taylor this far. Maybe it's resentment at Taylor for letting himself be pushed.
"Taylor. What were you doing out there?"
"Hm?"
"What were you doing out there?" Wes demands, "In the snow. You were laying outside in a flannel and jeans in fucking zero-degree weather-- you almost died- wh-what-t w-were you d-doing?" Taylor doesn't reply, and the resentment glows white-hot and Wes steels himself and snaps, "Tell me."
"No."
Wes twitches twice, and the second time Taylor leans into him-- as if he could keep Wes still by just being there. Maybe he can. It's an experiment.
"Why not?"
"Because you won't like what I tell you."
In a way, Taylor did just tell him-- because they both kind of know.
Wes stares at the Jeopardy rerun. Disco History for 800. This ex-deejay hosted a mass burning of disco records in 1979. Who is Robert Dahl. That is correct. The resentment crackles as it superheats his bones.
And then his bones disintegrate. They turn to ash that blows away with Wes's breath. Nothing stops the resentment from using Wes's mouth to ask, "Taylor, what did you mean, on Tuesday morning?"
"Huh?"
"You said you wouldn't date me. Why not?"
Taylor shifts away from him again, body petrified into a glass bottle holding every emotion he’s ever felt.
Wes shifts too, moves some of the blankets so he can look Taylor straight in his face. He makes it very clear he won't drop this. It takes several minutes of direct eye contact to make this point.
"You deserve better--"
"Yeah, but what the fuck does that mean?"
There’s a shift in their burrito as Taylor also moves to face Wes more directly. "What do you want me to say, dude? I'm a piece of shit!” His eyes cast about the room. “Jesus, Wes, look where we are right now."
The smoldering resentment is bile creeping up Wes’s throat. "S-so, so what!?” he asks, desperately searching for some part of Taylor’s expression that looks worse than yesterday, or last week, or a month ago, because that would mean Taylor hasn’t always felt like this. “I'm not supposed t-t-to help!? Just let you f-fucking freeze to death!?"
"I dunno! Maybe!?” Taylor’s frustrated glare melts into a still understanding. “Y’know what, if it means you don't get fucking hypothermia, then yea. Yes. Let me freeze to death."
Wes snaps, "No!" eyes hot and body beginning to tremble at the joints. Someone remembered to give him his meds about half an hour ago, and he’s never been more grateful for their assistance than this moment, because without them he knows he wouldn’t have the strength to look Taylor in the eyes and scream at him like this.
"What do you mean 'no'!?” Taylor hisses back, and now his expression is new. There’s fear in his eyes. What could he possibly be afraid of? Wes would never hurt him. “This isn't a fucking debate! If saving me means hurting you then I don't wanna be saved!"
"And I'm telling you that I'm gonna do whatever I can to help you, even if it fucking kills me." The words don’t even surprise Wes once they’ve escaped his lungs. They echo back from the screen of too-quiet Jeopardy reruns and settle into the comforter-burrito with damning finality and Wes knows he means them.
"What the fuck!?” Taylor sounds like he’s choking. He looks terrified. “No!?” he snaps, “Why would you do that?"
And it finally clicks what Taylor is so scared of. And it clicks what the anger was hiding. And it clicks what Wes has to do about it. "Because that's what boyfriends do,” he says.
"What!?" Taylor looks ready to bolt, but the burrito and the stiffness of defrosting prevents him from getting much headway on the idea.
"Cool. Now that that's settled, hold my hand,” Wes says, one hand seeking Taylor’s out in the blankets. “My fingers are freezing."
Everyone in the kitchen is doing their absolute best to communicate through eye contact, because they don't want Wes and Taylor to know that they heard every word of that, but it's hard because there's so much to unpack. Where to start? Taylor's staggering self-worth issues? Wes's morbid lack of self-preservation? The fact that they, apparently, confirmed their feelings for each other on Tuesday morning, and then told nobody about it? The part where they're dating now?
Collin, for his part, flips another pancake.
Collin is not especially concerned about much of this. As long as nobody's dying no more, he's got bigger fish to filet. He loves his friends, but he also knows that after not one, but two consecutive sleepovers, neither of which had clearance from his parents, he's close to joining Taylor in the homeless department-- and they can't all sleep on their boyfriend's pullout couches. Jaxson's trailer doesn't have one, and even after Jeremy moved out there's not even room to breathe in there (it's why he and Jax spend all their time outside, even if it's colder than all heck).
They hadn't really had anyone's house to go to before this week. Jaxson's house is chaotic and screaming and fistfights and so much broken glass on the floor that you can't take off your shoes inside. Collin' house is tight-lipped silences and oppressive watching and if you step on the eggshells--
You just try not to step on the eggshells or it turns into one of those nights where his parents Do Things and later Collin sits in his room and doesn’t move a muscle until his mother calls him for breakfast.
He's never stayed out for two sleepovers without permission. When he and Jax first started dating, they stayed too late at that treehouse Jaxson and Taylor built for their little sisters in middle school and ended up sleeping there. It had been Bad when Collin got home. He Never Wants That To Happen Again.
He's got bigger fish to filet than whether or not Taylor and Wes have become Swisher's newest gay couple.
Todd makes eye contact with Collin-- one of the pancakes is ready to be flipped. It's a little crispier than the others now. Collin is tempted to throw out the whole pancake. Nobody wants a fucked up pancake. If Collin hadn't been distracted, he would have flipped it on time. This is why he can't afford to spend time doing anything with his new friends: he gets distracted, and when he gets distracted his schoolwork slips and his parents buckle down with the rules and the groundings and then Collin fucks up the pancakes--
Jaxson sweeps in behind him and swipes the pancake off the plate, nibbling at it like a chipmunk. "Thanks, babe," he whispers, mouth full and smiling just enough to take the stress out of the slope of Collin shoulders.
In the other room, Taylor says something, low and grumbling, and Wes bites back with clipped, stutter-less efficiency. Todd is right by the archway to the hall and heard it better, he's laughing into his hand.
Dalton is whispering demands, "What are they saying? Toddster. My guy. What. Are. They. Saying," and Todd is shushing him, pulling out his phone, texting, and then Dalton is holding back laughter with sheer force of will.
Collin checks his phone.
Unnamed Groupchat: Todd Richards, Dalton Aarons, Collin Donahue, Jaxson Dixon
Todd: taylor asked if he had any say in whether or not he and wes are dating
wes told him to 'shut the fuck up'
Dalton: alkdfjln
XD XD XD
Jaxson: its what he fuckin deserves
last night was a hot fuckin mess
Todd: i mean i guess ya,,,,, but like,,,,,,
Can u IMAGINE last week wes telling taylotr to stfu???
bc i Cannot
Dalton: it seems like just yesterday i was changing his diapers </3
Now there is such foul language coming from his mouth
Todd: dalton,,, buddy…….. U have known wes for like 5 days
Collin: wait I thought yall knew wes for a while?
Jaxson: ^^^
Yea
I would also like an explanation
Bc i have THREE classes with both of them
One of classes we have been assigned to a table together for months
And they only started talking to each other TUESDAY
Dalton: ok so heres the thing
Todd: collin the pancake is gonna burn
Dalton: we would love to tell u
Collin: !! thank you!!
Jaxson: i call the burned ones
Collin: heathen
Jaxson: i like them Kwispy
Dalton: but i would feel weird talking abt it without wes and taylors input
Ya feel?
Todd: ^^^^
Jaxson: ok aight so whats the plan then
We could interrupt their ~bonding moment~
Collin: well i dont wanna be rude though
Dalton: Collin. U have pancakes. Nothing is rude when u have pancakes.
Oh shit this groupchat has no name!
A TRAVESSTY
[Dalton Aarons Named the Groupchat: Babie its cold ousside]
As they enter the living room, the whole group shoves Collin out in front of them first, holding a stack of pancakes on the largest ceramic dinnerware plate in the Post household.
"Hey, y’all," Collin says, trying not to be too awkward, when two sets of eyes turn to stare at him.
"I forgot there were people in the house," Wes says with a sideways laugh. His whole face goes a little red.
Jaxson scoots out from behind Collin, swipes a burnt pancake from the top of the pile, and says, "We have pancakes and we have questions. Seeing as you two decided to lay down in the snow for four fuckin' hours last night and we had to peel your asses off the pavement, we are requiring you to answer them." He shoves the whole pancake into his mouth at once, and the regret at biting off more than he can chew slowly dawns on him as he tries to swallow.
"Fuck it," Taylor mutters, "ask away, but I ain't answering shit that I don't want to."
Dalton moves to sit at the corner of the pullout couch, and Todd sits cross-legged next to him. Jaxson and Collin squish into the armchair, and they pass the plate of pancakes around. They're all kinda biding their time. Jaxson, for one, has no fucking clue what he's even supposed to be asking here.
When it becomes clear that nobody else is gonna say anything, Todd sighs and says, "Taylor, you gotta tell Jaxson and Collin about your house."
Oh. That.
Jaxson scans Taylor's bruised face carefully, through the blanket pile, for signs of the rippling emotions that he can hide so well. It briefly crosses Jaxson's mind that Freddy Peters didn't fuck up Taylor's face-- and Jaxson doesn't know who did. Sure, he could have gone out and picked a fight, but he also might have just gone home when Mr. Macready was in a bad mood.
Jaxson remembers when they were little and the Macreadys would leave Taylor with Hellen at the Dixon trailer when they dropped her off for a playdate, and Taylor would be covered in bruises and Hellen would be trying not to cry and Jaxson had known from the start exactly what that meant. The first few times, Juniper-Maisie would ask Taylor what happened-- because she was still so little, and she didn't think other people's parents were like that (because that's what Jaxson always told her)-- and Taylor would say he tripped, and when Juniper-Maisie stopped believing that he would say he picked a fight with one of the bigger kids.
That became the famous Taylor Macready lie: he picked a fight.
Sometimes he picked a fight. Sometimes he picked a bad night to come home.
Jaxson knows probably more than even Todd or Dalton about the Macready family. Hellen has always told Juniper-Maisie everything, and when they were little Juniper-Maisie told Jaxson everything-- Juniper-Maisie's a tight-lidded box now, won't spill a secret for anything in a way that Jaxson really admires, but he's gotten enough puzzle pieces over the years to know that Thomas Macready beats the shit out of his son because, in seven-year-old Hellen's words, "Daddy doesn't think Taylor is his kid because he's got black hair and I have red hair."
Jaxson has always hoped Todd or Dalton knew more than him. That they were helping him somehow, in ways that Jaxson, with the same bruises, couldn’t.
But Todd Richards and Dalton Aarons have been friends with Taylor Macready since kindergarten and somehow don't know.
Taylor and Wes make some pointed eye contact-- which is the first indication, to Jaxson, that his guess at what this conversation is about could be wrong. How would Wes be implicated in the Macready household? Those two hadn't said a word to each other before Monday.
"It's your house," Taylor grumbles, "you say it."
"F-f-fine. Taylor's parent kicked him out."
Oh. Oh shit. That makes horrifying sense.
Last week, Taylor had stumbled into first period physics with the gait of a man limping towards death. Jaxson tried to mention it when they were alone in the bathroom during what would have been third-period English if they'd bothered to show up. He'd said Taylor looked like shit. Taylor hadn't responded, just vomited into the toilet and told Jaxson not to tell a single fucking person or he'd kick his ass. There was no way Jaxson could have known he was homeless. Even if his clothes were kinda gross. Maybe he just hadn't done laundry in a while-- how could Jaxson have known! "Does Hellen know?" Jaxson asks. "Juniper-Maisie would have told me if Hellen knew."
Wes gives Taylor a glance that means he doesn't know the answer to this one.
Collin interrupts, "Wait, hang on, y’all. Where were you livin', Taylor? How long were you roughin' it?" He backtracks, a little intimidated by the glare Taylor is leveling him with, "If ya don't mind my askin'."
Wes answers part of that, "Under the bridge off Clearwater Street-- Taylor, how long did you live there?"
Shrinking into the blanket pile, Taylor mumbles, "I dunno. Maybe a few weeks?"
"Weeks!?" half the room cries at once.
Dalton shouts, "Last Thursday was not the first snow of the year-- how did you not die!?"
"The first snow wasn't too bad," Taylor insists, "I was covered by the bridge, so I wasn't gonna die or nothin'." He shrugs, "I came over to your house once or twice when it snowed. It's just that when Wes found me I was sick and stupid and decided to sleep out from under the bridge."
Jaxson echoes himself, "My point stands. How did Hellen not know? Juniper-Maisie woulda told me if you really needed help."
"I don't need your hero complex bullshit, Jaxson."
"I don't give a shit,” Jaxson growls, “tell me how you got kicked out without your fourteen-year-old sister knowing!"
"Because I never told her!" Taylor shouts. It rattles the springs in the pullout couch mattress. "I told my dad to eat shit if he was gonna bitch at me again, and he said he was done taking care of my sorry ass and he told me to get my stuff and get outta the house or he'd call the cops. So I left," Taylor's face is contorted with pain in ways that most of the people in the living room have never seen before. His breathing comes in bellows.
Todd and Dalton are both so terrified they feel themselves cement to the shaking springs of the pullout mattress. Taylor has never yelled at them before, not like that. Slower, quieter, Taylor continues, "Hellen was with Juniper-Maisie somewhere, I don't know. I was gone before she got home. I tried to avoid her at school 'cause I knew she'd feel bad.” For just a moment, there’s the carcass of a smile. “I wanted her to think I just moved out. Found an apartment somewhere, I dunno.” His shoulders are hunched, blankets a protective barrier between him and the rest of the world. “I don't know." Nobody can see his nails buried in his arm.
In the blanket pile next to Taylor, Wes twitches. Jaxson can't see Taylor's face anymore, the only part of him that had been visible, because he's sunk so far into the blankets.
Dalton's got tears already running down his face. Todd hadn't spoken, but now he opens his mouth and says, "Okay. So let me break this timeline down. You get kicked out sometime in the middle of last November. You're living under a bridge for three weeks? Last Monday, you got sick. Last Thursday, there's a snowstorm and Wes-- that's when you found him, right? Because you texted us on Friday night." Wes nods. Todd continues, "So Friday Wes texts us, Tuesday, somehow, you two confessed your undying love or some shit like that--"
Taylor lets out a barking laugh, and there’s a release of tension.
Wes goes bright red, stammering, "I-i-it w-was an accident!"
"How do you confess on accident?" Dalton wants to know, laughing and wiping his face dry with his sleeve.
From his cocoon inside the blankets, Taylor says, "He was trying to apologize for feeding me muffins."
"You said you didn't like cinnamon!"
"It was the only thing I'd eaten in two days, Wes," Taylor replies, voice warm and almost chuckling, "I wasn't gonna complain about cinnamon."
Jaxson nods. He doesn't think much about that comment. Sometimes Collin will sneak food out of his parents house for Jaxson when shit gets rough-- and he hardly ever gets caught, so it's usually alright. He gets it.
Todd doesn't get it. His whole face wrinkles with guilt. "Dude, you could have--" he stops. Everyone can hear that he's choked up and they don't mention it. "Anytime, Taylor-- you could have come to my house anytime. I wouldn't have asked any questions, if you needed me not to."
"Sorry," Taylor mutters.
"Don't be sorry," Todd says, "Just-- I don't know-- Just rely on us a little more."
yay!! they’re dating!!! to my brain they r like little babies holding hands hahaha
as always, support to the author is always appreciated, either monetarily or by screaming at me in the comments! Nothing brings me more joy!!!
I absolutely love this story!