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She still had the phone in her hand, was still staring down at it when she heard the knock. Everything in her head was buzzing, a low grade white noise that had started when America had dmed her. She hadn't believed the Moon. No reason as to why, other than she hadn't wanted to believe her. Hadn't wanted to accept what she'd said. It was too painful. Then Bix had texted, asking to talk, and the truth of it started to sink in.

It took a moment to open the door, to look up at him standing there with his arms full of Taym's possessions. its not true.

Wordlessly she stepped aside, letting him into her dorm. It was neat, lived in but neat. A little kitchenette with two stools, her bed, a sitting area including a couch, a coffee table, and TV. Pey waited for him to move past her, then shut the door quietly behind him and circled around to the sink. "Would you like something to drink?" The white noise was getting louder, an awful buzz that was second only to the hammering of her pulse in her ears. She felt anxious, sick, palms clammy. She felt like everything was cracking at the corners.

A twitch of brows in his direction, then she was turning to get herself a glass of water. More to stall than because she was actually thirsty. She sipped at it for the same reason, pale eyes moving to the box, the carrier, then back to Bix and his grief splotched complexion. His expression hit like a psychical blow, and Peyton found her own jaw tightening, hands shaking faintly as she came over to stand beside him.

"America told me," she cut him off kindly, voice soft and resigned. "I didn't want to believe her, but..." His presence here was a confirmation of one of her worst fears realized.

It still hadn't hit, not yet. Not even seeing the proof of it on Bix's face. At the moment she felt strangely numb. She knew, from experience, that numbness would fade, and when it did there would be nothing but grief and pain, and unbelievable loss.

Experiencing it before didn't make it any easier.

Peyton knew. She knew how he'd died, and now was faced with either telling Bix the awful truth, or leaving him in the dark to save him that little bit of extra pain. Her lips pursed as she considered it, and the glass back up so she could take another stalling sip.

He offered her the paper, and pale eyes dropped to it, staring for much too long before she peeled her fingers away from her glass to reach for it. Her water found the table, and she slipped into one of the stools as she unfolded it and began to read.

The first line hit her like a knife to the heart, and it didn't get any easier from there. Pey felt her throat closing up, heart hammering as heat rose up to burn at her eyes. Now there were tears, hot and scalding as they rolled down her cheeks, one after another until she could hardly see the page she was reading.

Why did you do this? She wanted to scream it at him, demand an answer, but he was gone. He was gone and he wasn't coming back. The paper rattled softly as her hands shook, the reality of it finally settling in. Taym was gone. He was gone. Gone.

She hadn't actually reached the end of the page by the time she'd set the page down on her little table, she just couldn't read it past the tears that just kept falling. Bix's presence, while comforting, seemed strange to her, though she couldn't place why, exactly. Like an intrusion on her grief, maybe, but he was grieving as well, trying to comfort her, asked with the awful job of going door to door to deliver the news.

Her elbows found the table, arms coming up so she could cradle her face between her fingers. Thin shoulders shaking as she fought to keep the tears from growing into all out sobs while Bix was still there.

Warrick hovered loomed like a heavy cloud in her mind. Wrapping around her like a security blanket, but even that brought little in the way of comfort.

What she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and hide away from the rest of the world. To sink int the earth, be swallowed up, just disappear. That wasn't possible. So she lifted her head as Bix's arm slid away from her shoulders, hand coming up to rub the tear stains from her cheeks. Couldn't break down yet, not yet.

"Do..ah, do you need any help?" She gestured to the will, to the things he'd been carrying, then lay her hand on top of the paper, glancing down towards the bottom.

Article 8, the distribution and handling of any and all properties belonging to the deceased. That would have to be dealt with at some point.

America...

Peyton swallowed, rubbing her thumb under her left eye to get the tears that clung to her eyelids. "You don't want to go through it with me?" It was meant for both of them, after all.

"I can handle America, though." No she couldn't, but she was try. She would deliver the items listed on the will, and she would do what she could for the other girl.

"Ah." That made sense. Pey nodded, a little too quickly, and a little too much, but her voice was even, at least.

"No, we're close. I can...I can do it." Best friends, right? Or they were...things hadn't been the same since the aftermath of the life labs. America had warned her they wouldn't be, but still...

Clearing her throat, Peyton reached out again and wrapped her fingers around her glass of water again, drawing it closer.