Work Text:
He knows what he saw. He remembers the last words she said. The ‘pop!’ as air rushed to fill the vacuum of space she left. The silence of the house without her. Having to turn off the stove, the food she was cooking forgotten.
He hasn’t forgotten.
It’s all he thinks about now. He glances around, still waiting for her to come back. He barely sleeps anymore, just in case she appears in the middle of the night. He wonders if he’s dreaming, if he’s delusional. Sometimes he’ll still hear her voice. “Parker! Turn around, it’s me! Parker!” He always turns around.
His friends blame him. It’s reasonable, he supposes. He blames himself too. He wonders if he did it. If he blocked out the memories. The last thing he remembered is arguing. Did he snap and kill her?
No. He knows what he saw.
The ones who don’t blame him tell him to move on. “It’s what she would’ve wanted!” Bullshit. She wanted him dead. He didn’t want her dead.
He… he just wants to see her again.
Would she want to see him again? Even if he does find her, would she want anything to do with him? He hopes so.
Perhaps he’ll see her again eventually. He’s never been religious, but he hopes theres another life. One that he enjoys. One where she’s alive.
She is alive. He saw her.
He still sees her. Oh, he still fucking sees her. In the corner of his eye. She’s there. He hears her voice. “Parker! Turn around, it’s me! Parker!” He wants to turn around.
‘She’s not there’ A voice deep inside tells him. ‘You know she’s not there’ He wants to turn around. “Parker! Turn around, it’s me! Parker!” His hands shake. He knows she’s not there. ‘It’s not real.’ His mind says. He lets out a ragged breath. ‘You know it’s not.’
He turns around.
Alone in his home, Parker takes his antipsychotics.