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[as seen in parker's eyes]

The clock is ticking. But time has come to a standstill.

At least, that's what it feels like to him, even though he has been sitting in the same position for the past hour.

He hears a deafening roar in his ears and something like an invisible python winding itself around his chest, slowly but surely squeezing the life out of him. He clutches his phone between his fingers tightly, so tightly until he hears a slight crack of the plastic.

It reminds him a fucking lot like the cracking of a heart. When the fissures of the heart begin to tear at its seams and it hurts, a dull throbbing pain – not quite heartache, not quite heartbreak.

But he is halfway there.

He glances down at his phone again, the screen a little blurred from his fingerprints. He rereads the black words on the white screen and wonders if words have ever been more toxic before. The message from his mother is simple but painful:

It's terminal. I'm sorry, honey.

He rereads the message several more times, trying to find a way to scramble the letters, scramble his father's fate into something like 'it's just a joke, honey' or 'he's actually okay; really, really okay'. But no, it's not possible because fate is a heartless, cruel bitch and when she plays her cards, there is really no way to escape her evil clutches.

He can see shadows outside, sweeping across the soft glow that peeks through the gap beneath the door. And he focuses on it – on her.

She's trying to keep as silent and as inconspicuous as possible as she paces outside his door, but her footfalls are clumsy for a teenager. He appreciates it, nevertheless, because she is his sole constant in his world, the only part of his life that has not worked itself into a frenzied pace destruction.

The home phone rings in the distance and he hears her run down the hall to answer it. She returns quickly, pausing outside his door once again.

"...yes, I know, I know."

He can hear her voice, clear and comforting. It drowns out the roaring in his ears, it makes him realise he's not deafened. Not yet.

"I know, twenty percent of my final grade. But I have an emergency to attend to...I'm not going! You can tell Ms Castelle to shut it and stick her face where the sun don't shine."

He doesn't know how he manages it, but her words make his lips curl up in a brief smirk. He can't quite believe it. He's actually smiling at a time where his world is on the brink of collapse. Only Isla Moore can get that sort of reaction out of him. Out of anyone, for that matter.

"Okay, don't tell her that, I'd get expelled. But I swear I'm not going!" She continues, heatedly. "Well, tell her something else, anything...make it up, use your bloody imagination! Alright – oh, that's actually pretty good. Shut it, you wanker, don't get cocky just because – alright, I owe you one. Yes, I know...didn't I already thank you? No? Not yet? Right, fine, Cas – you're a brilliant, wonderful jack – person, I was going to say person. But seriously thanks a million, Cas, I really appreciate it."

Then she ends the call and all is silent once again, save for her footfalls as she paces outside his room. And then that is when the silence hits him, that is when it all crumbles to ashes and dust, that is when he suddenly realises that his father is never going to get better.

His father is a time-ticking bomb that could die any second, any moment, and there will never, ever be enough days left.

Now the fissures of his heart begin to rip, slowly, painfully and he feels a sting in his chest. Subconsciously, he's already missing his father. That's the endgame and he sees it perfectly. He knows that he will think of his father in time to come. He will remember the afternoons spent with his father playing basketball when he was a child. He will remember the smile on his father's face when he passed each and every single one of his exams with flying colours. He knows that he will remember all those and more. So much more.

But there is nothing but emptiness for the time being, the kind of hollow within, without, what is missing? He doesn't know, he doesn't fucking know what it is that is slowly, painfully ripping him apart.

"He'll be okay," he whispers to himself, in the silence, but that does not muffle the roaring in his ears. He repeats it to himself over and over again because it is all just so sudden, so surreal that he doesn't know if he's sleeping or dreaming, he just feels so fucking empty inside. "He'll be okay, he'll be okay, he'll be okay."

He knows perfectly well that he's repeating nothing but lies.

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The clock is still ticking. But time is still at a standstill.

He still hasn't moved. His legs are numbed from sitting in the same position for so long but to be frank, he honestly doesn't give a shit. His legs can stay numbed, he can stay numbed. Unfeeling. Maybe that is the best sort of remedy to this.

He knows that Isla is sitting outside now because her shadow is in a fixed spot beneath the gap of his door. He has his eyes trained on her shadow and it is the only reason he hasn't completely broken down. He's always tried to stay strong, to react in the best possible ways, to be the best person that he can possibly be, because he knows she fucking adores him. In truth, he's really scum and he knows he doesn't deserve her adoration.

But he tries. He still tries.

And he is still trying even when his phone vibrates with an incoming call. He mindlessly swipes at the screen without looking, hitting the speakerphone button right after. The room is suddenly filled with static and a haggard breathing that he knows all too well.

"Parker?"

It's Eloise McAllister – the one person he loves more than anything and anyone in the world. But she's also the one person that makes him feel terrified. He is terrified, both of her and for her.

He wants to be there with her, for her. He imagines himself wrapping his strong arms around her fragile shoulders. He pictures himself pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and can almost feel her shivering against him – not out of fear, never out of fear but out of wired anticipation, desire, love.

But right now, he is just lost.

He doesn't know how to reply her. There are simply no greetings, no words that come to his mind. All he can think about is that his father is in the hospital, indefinitely, and will remain there for what little time he has left.

"Parker? I – I think I'm going to do it."

It's static on his end.

"I don't, I just can't....I think you're right – I...."

Static.

"The appointment's in a half hour, I think it's for the best."

And more static.

"Parker? Please, say something."

He cannot force the words, any words, out of his mouth. And so he listens to the static for a few more seconds, the rising hysterical sobs from the other end of the line. After what seems like forever, she speaks again.

"Goodbye, Parker."

Maybe it is her goodbye that is his undoing because he suddenly realises that he cannot deal with another goodbye. Not today. He bolts upright, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Ellie, love – hello? Hello?"

There is a click.

"Ellie!"

And now the line is dead.

"Eloise – fuck," he has never felt this frightened before. He doesn't know where she is. He doesn't know where she's going. It's happening. It's really happening, and he's about to lose everything he knows he has. Everything and more.

His fingers fumble as he redials her number. Again and again and again. He doesn't even get static this time because she has turned off her phone. His mind is racing – not with thoughts; it's the kind of racing that leaves you feeling like you're on the brink of insanity.

And maybe he finally is – insane – but he doesn't fucking care.

He grabs his car keys off the table and rushes out of the room, almost tripping over Isla in the process. Isla's eyes are wide as she stumbles to her feet, running after him.

"Parker? Where the hell are you going – Parker!"

He doesn't hear her. He sprints out of the house and to his car, plugging the key into the ignition. And the roar of the engine, in addition to the roaring already in his ears – leaves him completely deafened.

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This is what the message says:

I'm sorry.

And just like that: nothing is ever the same again.

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The clock is still ticking. But time is still at a standstill.

Isla finds him standing on the porch at two-thirty three in the morning. It is pouring outside and he is soaked to the bone.

But within, he is just vacuum.

She knows that something has happened, something else apart from what they've learnt about his father. She takes trembling steps towards him and he holds out his phone for her to see. Wordlessly, she takes it and reads it. And then her irises darken and she glances up at him. Her eyes are strangely dry, her posture unexpectedly calm. She's the strong one now.

So, this time, he collapses.

He sinks to his knees and wishes that there were somewhere lower he could go. There is rock bottom and he's already hit that earlier, but now there is a place unknown to most people, a place lower that rock bottom and he hits that now. He hits it hard, excruciatingly. Like a meteor that has crashed into earth. Everyone thinks of the impact the meteor has caused, the devastation it has wrecked.

Does no one think about the meteor?

Does no one realise that the meteor is completely, utterly and irrevocably shattered?

He feels her arms encircle around him as she pulls him towards her. And they sit there on the porch for what seems like forever. The sky does not rain, it weeps in torrents, it weeps on behalf of him because his eyes are still bereft of tears.

"You still have me," Isla whispers against his skin, after what seems like forever. She does not say that she's sorry, or that she understands, or that things will be okay.

Because those are all lies. Those are lies you feed to a little lost boy, and he knows he's no longer a boy but a broken man. And so he shuts his eyes and lets his sister hold him in her arms as she seals her promise against his skin.

"You will always have me."

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The clock is ticking. And time goes on.