We Used to See with Wide Eyes

"Hello there, doll, now what can I get for you?"

I looked up from dinosaur coloring book, wondering who was talking to me, but I shouldn't have wondered.

He was standing there wearing an apron with a pad of paper and a pen clenched tightly in his fists. I was expecting to be alone since it was after closing and Mac was already upstairs, but Brendon wasn’t exactly in the habit of being predictable.

"Brendonnnnn," I sighed theatrically.

"Ok," he said with a wild glint in his eye, speaking as he wrote furiously, "One hot slice of man with a side of sexiness," he looked up, "Now was that for here or to go?"

I flung the crayon I was holding and it bounced off his forehead before he dropped the act, only to put on another one, "Owwww, Parker that really hurt," he whined.

I rolled my eyes but smiled a bit, "Oh shush."

"Fine. I was going to go get you some of The Syrup to go with those pancakes but I guess I'll keep it all to myself…"

He turned to go, but I grabbed him by the wrist, "He has The Syrup?"

"Yeah," he answered snootily, "But since you decided to be a meanie-pants I don't know if you deserve any."

With my other hand I grabbed him by the neck of the shirt and pulled him in, and tried to adopt a menacing tone, "I want The Syrup!"

"Ok ok," he squeaked as I let go and smoothed down his shirt, "All you had to do was say please."

The Syrup was made by an old woman who made jams for a living, and everyone in awhile she made syrup, and it was blissful blend of different berries. Mac is only able to get a hold of it every once in awhile and its always devoured in a couple days.

Staring at his retreating figure, I tried to remember the last time I had The Syrup, but wasn't surprised when I…

My head twinged, apparently I did remember, and I allowed myself sink into color.

Aqua, in fact. I was trying to burrow deeper in my pillows to block out Liam’s voice.

" Parker- Parker- Parker- Parker- Parker- Parker- Parker!"

I was going to murder him.

" Parker- Parker- Parker-OW."

I smirked beneath my aqua sheets; one of my flying pillows had done the trick.

Oh why did I ever give him my key? He has plenty of friends, why can't he go bother them? I shouldn't have to subject myself to his morning person qualities. One of the few things we unfortunately didn’t share.

I shrieked as something wet forced its way into my ear, "Wet willie," Liam cried and ran out of my room cackling.

Revolted and pissed, I sprang from my sheets after him only to find him standing in my doorway holding a small redish-purplish jar.

I skidded to a halt, the jar looked suspiciously familiar, "Is that..?" I started with awe when I realized.

"It is," Lee confirmed looking at it wonderingly, reverently he said, "Its The] Syrup that makes your taste buds dance the conga, its The] Syrup that makes your head spin, its The] Syrup that tells you what love really is, its The] Syrup that is so orgasmic that – "

"I know, Lee, I've had it before," I said, cutting him off before he could say anything dirtier.

"You make pancakes? I'll get bacon and eggs?" He asked, as I followed him into the little kitchenette.

"Deal. How did you get it anyway?" I wondered, suddenly curious, Mac would never reveal his source.

"No one was watching it," he said, and he had the sense to look a little sheepish, "But we'll return it later!"

I shoved my head into a cabinet, trying to find the pancake mix, and when I emerged with the brown box in hand Liam asked, "So Dawson is having the New Year’s party this year, want to ride together?"

"Yeah," I said smiling, "That'd be fun."

I blinked and white splotches receded from my vision but the sensation of being punched in the stomach hit me. It was like the whole world was crashing down on me.

"No," I breathed to myself, after Dawson's party was when the accident happened. The one that ruined my life.

I could barely remember to breathe, but I didn’t want Brendon to see me like this so I finally forced myself to move and ran to the bathroom. I turned on the tap so water was streaming down in an icy torrent, filled up my cupped palms and splashed it on my face.

The freezing water brought back clarity and my ability to perform higher functions, like keeping my emotions under control. I pushed every thought of Lee to the back corner of my mind to stew until there was a convenient enough time where I was alone to feel them.

Turning off the faucet and then grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser I blotted the water droplets off my face and studied my reflection in the mirror. I forced myself to relax my jaw, relieving the tension in my face so I looked calm. Good.

The only thing that I was worried about was my eyes. I couldn’t do anything about them and I was afraid Brendon would know something was wrong. I tried to focus on something happy, like coloring with him and I think they softened a little.

I took one last deep breath and made my way back to our booth, growing more confident that I looked like nothing was wrong.

And when Brendon appeared, quite literally, dancing from the kitchen clutching The Syrup, I tried to be happy, even though I had a feeling The Syrup wouldn’t be enough to make me feel better.

Brendon danced all the way into his seat grinning without abandon, until he looked at me.

"Why the long face?" His eyebrows scrunched up in concern.

Damn. I was even smiling.

"I… I… I don't know," I stuttered, losing the fake grin, "I'm just… just so exhausted all the time."

"Well, you know what?" he said as he set down the dark jar.

“What?”

“I’m going to smother your pancakes in The Syrup and you will have mouthgasms, then we’ll see if there’s anything we can do about that. Ok?”

His gaze intensified to the point where I felt uncomfortable but I produced a small smile that seemed to satisfy him, at least for the moment.

“Mmmmmmmmmm,” I sighed with the first bite, “Soooo good.”

Brendon smiled and took his first bite, rolling his eyes up and moaning like a whore. And he wasn’t exaggerating, The Syrup is that good.

I liked just sitting there in the diner with him, with the only sound being that of our silverware on our plates. As much as he talked, through experience I learned that Brendon also had a great knack for being still and silent at the right moments. And I needed this moment of peace.

When he was done, shortly after I was, he stretched and when he relaxed again he left his feet tangled up with mine under the table. I let him, and when he looked at me with his piercing dark eyes I didn’t avert my eyes. My, how things have changed.

“Will you let me try something?” he asked quietly, carefully, breaking our silence.

I nodded.

Never breaking eye contact, he gracefully slid out of his side of the booth and into mine, something he had never down before. It felt a little wrong not having him opposite me, with the table between us, keeping him at a safe arm’s length away.

Next to me he was just a hairbreadth away and there was nothing to keep him from coming even closer.

“I want you to face me and close your eyes,” he said, again in that soft voice.

I complied and when I felt his hands grasp my scalp and his thumbs rest on my temples, I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. He was gentle and his hands warm.

Slowly, he began to make soothing circular motions with his thumbs. I could feel the pressure in my head immediately start to melt away. From there I could feel the rest of tension I clung so fiercely to slipping away as well.

In that time, I experienced the blissful joy of thinking of nothing except the simple pleasure of his hands on my scalp. No guilt. No fear. No bitterness or anger. There was nothing weighing me down and nothing to hold onto, and so I was floating…

**

Slowly, I came back into consciousness.

I lay still, eyes still shut. I was on my back, presumably in the booth with my head resting on a pillow of some sort. He was running his fingers through my hair, so gently, sending shivers down my spine and goose bumps erupting on my arms.

My shaking must have been noticeable; he paused combing my hair, and stroked my arm instead; which didn’t exactly help my goose bump situation.

It was then that I realized he was singing, almost murmuring, but singing all the same.

“There are many things that I would like to say to you but I don’t know how… because maybe you’re gonna be the one who saves me, because after all you’re my wonderwall…”

His voice was beautiful, unwavering and pure. Yet there was something so deep in the husky quality in his singing that sent fresh shivers through my skin.

He trailed off and I almost started as I felt his fingertips on my cheek, “Parker?” he whispered, “Parks, wake up.”

I waited until he ran his fingers along my jawline once more before I opened my eyes.

“Hey, Bren.”

“Hey,” he smiled down at me, “You fell asleep.”

I sighed, contentedly, and closed my eyes again, a smile gracing my lips.

“It’s good that you got to sleep,” he paused, but then hesitantly continued, “I’ve been worried about you, you know?”

When I was ready, his dark eyes were right there waiting for me to meet, “You shouldn’t.”

I made a motion to sit up, removing my head from his lap, and he quickly detangled his fingers from my hair, allowing me to do so.

I turned to face him, but stared at my gnawed on nails, “I mean, worry about me… You shouldn’t worry about me, Bren.”

He didn’t speak, and I knew that he wouldn’t until I looked him in the eye.

Slowly, I let my eyes meander until they found him, smoldering at me, eyebrows furrowed; giving off the air that he could explode at any moment.

“And why not?” he asked, his voice razor sharp, jaw clenched tight.

“It’s not your burden,” I said, willing him with my eyes to drop it.

But of course he didn’t, “Then who’s is it?”

Completely lost for words, I shrugged, which apparently wasn’t good enough for him.

“Parker, you have to let someone in sometime…” he said sadly, “We talk, but we never really talk.”

“So why don’t you tell me?” I asked with the desire to know suddenly raging inside of me.

He tried to look confused, “Tell you what?”

I stared at him and he looked away, gazing past me, out the window. He has never broken eye contact first, ever, and the fact that he did scared me.

I didn’t speak though, until he looked at me again, slightly smoldering, “Tell you what?”

“Where did you go in July?”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. This was the first we even spoke about it since I blew up at him a couple months ago, he obviously didn’t want to bring it up and I was a coward. Until now.

He finally stopped fidgeting and said, softly, and simply, “I was visiting my friend’s grave.”

Oh.

I did the only thing that I could do, I reached out and took his hand, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking like a broken man, “Me too.”