To Keep You

Chapter Four: Candles-

A/N: literally just can't with Dylan O'Brien tbh look at that gif omg he's so precious ---> 

      And then it was June.

      I sat outside in the garden, the bright sun beaming down on the parts of the grass that the large oak tree's shadow couldn't reach. It was my favourite spot, sitting with my back against the trunk. Parker would often sit beside me, shoulder to shoulder, though I could never physically feel him there.

      "This was always Ms. Clarke's dream for you and me," he said. I kept doodling in my notebook that lay open atop my lap. "You know, for us two to be adopted together and live in a grand ol' house with grand ol' people."

      I tapped my pen gently against the pad, at a loss for words. Parker went on to say, "Guess she almost got what she wanted, right?" and I knew exactly how he expected me to respond.

      "Almost." I said, a grim expression surfacing on my features. The word didn't taste right on my tongue any more. It was flavoured with death and sick false hope.

      "What does the garden smell like?" he asked out of the blue. I angled my face to look at him from where he sat on my left. He was taking in the scenery with solemn eyes. "I can't feel anything any more, y'know? Not the breeze or the sun. Not even the smell of the flowers."

     He paused to take in a deep breath which only served to darken his spirits even more.

      He said, "Can you tell me what it's like? I'm starting to forget." In a voice that was almost too childlike for the heaviness of sorrow that pulled at the skin beneath his eyes and stitched his mouth into a permanent frown.

      I blinked back the sting of fresh tears, inhaled, and then replied, "Do you remember those scented candles that Ms. Clarke used to buy?"

      "The seasonal ones?" he asked, eyebrows crumpling. I nodded. "Barely, but they're still there."

      "Well, it smells like a mixture of the Garden Sunshine and the Vibrant Bloom ones. You remember those?"

     "Those were her favourites," his lips didn't smile despite the fondness of his tone.

     "Yeah, when the Apple Spice ones weren't in stock."
 
    "That woman loves her Christmas candles."

      "Yeah." I said, thoughts nose-diving into darkness before I could stop them and it was too, too late when I said, "She stopped lighting them after you left."

      The breeze fell short in the shade of the oak tree. I could see the flowerbeds rustling along the garden perimeter but it felt as though time had froze around Parker and I. Like we were in a pocket, shielded and safe.

      "She cried a lot," Parker murmured. "You could hear her down the hall from you at night, couldn't you?" When I didn't reply he went on to say, "Do you still watch for shadows every night?"

      I licked my lips, the taste of salt burned my tongue. "I watch for Jaime's." I whispered.

      Parker's eyes fell to the toes of his shoes, stretched out in front of him. He was wiggling them while he chewed the inside of his cheek. "Does the darkness scare you now?" he was staring me straight in the eyes, his movements stilled. Breathing non-existent.

     Because the dead didn't breathe, did they?

      I saw something dark push itself out the corner of Parker's tightly pressed lips. It was gooey and thick as it rolled over the curve of his bottom lip, down to his chin. My eyes grew wide with realisation as my mind flashed back to that December night.

      "Parker, y-you're bleeding," I stuttered.

      He ignored my words and asked again, this time with a gargle, "Does the darkness scare you now?" The blood spread more so across his bottom lip as he spoke.