All Lights On Us

C12: Anatasha Cade

Klara POV

The sleek white casket is lowered into the ground. The untainted white loses it's innocence as everyone tosses a handful of dirt onto the lid once it's fully descended. Today was good for Bishop. He gave a beautiful speech about how wonderful a mother Anatasha Cade was, and how her legacy will go on as her son is living proof every day. 

"I will live a life she would have been proud to see. And I know that she will be watching," his face had relaxed into soft belief.

Bishop told me about his dream from last night, and I know his look is because he truly believes she'll be watching from some place else. 

His team had stood silently behind us as the father Greg said some religious speech, which is nothing I'm familiar with. Michael was the only other person standing with Bishop and I. He stood by his friend's side with his hand clasped onto his shoulder – a silent show of support. Bishop's arm stayed around me, keeping me close to his side. 

Everyone sticks around for a while longer. The team wants to tell Bishop how sorry they are for his loss. I fall back while they come up to him, not feeling comfortable in their close presence.

Michael stands solid beside me, and I get a feeling Bishop told him to watch me. I huff.

"I don't need a babysitter," I cross my arms.

It angers me more to realize that I'm acting like a child. 

He raises his eyebrow but doesn't comment luckily.

"You know I'm really sorry about everything right? Like, really sorry. I always looked up to you," Michael's blue eyes catch mine and I can see the sincerity. 

"Looked up to me? The fat bullied girl?" 

He swallows, "That's never how I seen it. I seen the most strong, beautiful woman. Nothing like the assholes at the school. I've just always been a coward when it comes to making sure I fit in."

His eyes turn hard and he shakes his head. 

"Sorry, I'm talking too much. Just know that I never thought of you as a lesser person. It was quite the opposite."

The intensity in his gaze makes me want to take a step back. He thought I was beautiful? I refrain from moving, but just nod my head.

"I forgive you, Michael. I just want to move on, really." 

He stares at me for a few moments, before a soft smile tugs at his lips. 

"Friends?" He hold his hand out for a shake.

My own hand chills. I don't typically get like this with all men. I've only felt this way with a select few. The most recent being Frank. I swallow the unease down and place my hand in his.

"Klara, you do look lovely today," he squeezes my hand and places his other over both of ours. 

"Thank you," I'm confused with our interaction. 

His eyes hold a series of emotions, but they change before I can get a grasp on the one previous. I finally get it down to remorse. Remorse and gratitude, all at once.

My eyes drift from his to moving black blobs over his shoulder. When my eyes focus, I can spot familiar faces from the warehouse walking toward us in nice suits. My heart race picks up. I yank my hand from Michael's – surprised that it was even still there. I step around him.

"Excuse me, Michael. I have to go greet some people," my eyes stay locked on Tommy.

I fast-walk and reach the group a few yards away from the rest of the team. How could they know about this? They can't hear the team call Bishop by his name. They can't know a lot.