NEITHER ONE OF US SPOKE as we sat at the booth—coffee mugs filled with delicious dark liquid and untouched strawberry tarts sitting in front of us. I had no idea what to say and I was sure she had felt the same way. I was tapping my fingers against the wooden table but after a while, the sound had only gotten irritating and my fingers felt slightly numb. I then began to nibble on the inside of my cheek and even that had started to hurt after a while. Throughout our silence, she had casually picked up her mug. She held it to her lips too long, causing me to believe she was just holding it there and not drinking the coffee at all. When I first arrived, she looked shocked by my orange hair but kept her comments to herself. I was thankful enough.
I looked down at my dye stained hands and took a shaky breath. What were we supposed to do? Of course, we were supposed to talk. That was why we were here: to talk. However, who was supposed to start the conversation? Was Olivia supposed to utter the first word? Or was I? Either way, we were still not talking and the clock was still ticking. We had been here for a while and progress was not being made. For starters, I wanted to tell her how sorry I was for her loss. Then again, apologizing for a death was not what most people wanted to hear. It only added more pain to their suffering. I did not know if Olivia was one of those people and I did not want to risk it.
Her eyelids were puffy and I knew some more crying had been done since we last saw each other at the hospital. She looked like she came in her pajamas; something comforting and supportive. Her hair was extremely frizzy and it looked tangled. Even though she said Jillian was not one of her closest friends, it was very obvious this was affecting her. I ran a tired hand down my face and closed my eyes. If she was like this, I only had to assume Harry was in a worse amount of shape. I wanted to go check on him. A part of me wanted to stand up right now and run outside to my car. I wanted to drive to the house we both used to live in and I wanted to make sure he was all right. I was not going to do that to Olivia, though, and Harry made it clear on where he wanted me in his life.
He wanted me out of it.
I was more than willing to give him his space. After all, I was leaving Seattle and I did not have any intention of coming back. I experienced love for a second time and I was grateful for the small amount of time we had. At first, I never understood Harry's fear. Now that our time had run out, I understood why he was afraid. I wanted more time with him, more hours, more days, more weeks, more months, even years. I would have loved to be here longer than I intended. The city was beautiful and the people were wonderful. I was not ready to give it all up but it was time. I had overstayed my welcome and I was being evicted from the city of Seattle.
"Olivia," I said, looking up to meet her gaze.
She sniffed but said nothing. I sighed and my heartbeat quickened. I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Death was never easy. I knew that. People grieved differently and I was still shocked Olivia wanted to meet up with me. I thought she would have hated me just like everyone else. I reached across the table and grabbed her hands, squeezing them tightly. She winced as soon as my hands met hers and the tears began to fall. I immediately moved from my side of the booth to hers and I wrapped an arm around her, trying my best to be supportive and comforting like the pajamas she was wearing.
"I know," she told me, shaking her head. "I know I shouldn't be crying out in public but I just couldn't help it, you know? My eyes have minds of their own now."
"Oh, Olivia," I tightened my arm around her. "You can cry. There's nothing wrong with crying. It's what makes us human."
She wiped her eyes and let out a laugh. Her fingers traced the rim of the coffee mug and she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. I looked down at my lap and frowned. She was hurting and seeing her like this was hurting me. How was I supposed to tell her I planned on leaving? I was not just going to leave without telling anyone. They would assume I went missing and get the police involved. That was the last thing I needed. The police were on Norman's side even though they had no idea what he was doing. Norman was a very powerful and convincing man. He could make the most innocent child do the most cruelest things.
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Candles
Fanfiction[C O M P L E T E D ✓] They were curious. They both had their own share of secrets. He was a man living in the present. She was a woman living in the past. He was a candle, ready to see everything she was keeping in the dark. And she was the w...
