𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋───.ˑ·♪

🕯 ▬▬▬▬▬▬ chapter one — jacket boy

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     ☥🦇 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪ When you die, does it ever really matter? Will anybody ever remember you, anyway? Will your death haunt someone's existence so dismally to the point where they end their own life? Will your death have meaning?

  Many people fear death, they fear the pain and the loss and the suffering but with Skylar, no, she fears the meaning of her death, she's so terror—stricken that not one soul will be devastated by her death, that no person loves her enough for her to be remembered.

  It was a no—brainer for her to know that her older brother was far from fond of her enough to do so much as sacrifice himself for her, he only cared for her to receive the benefits. Jackson was a bastard, even his long—distance girlfriend knew it bearing in mind the amount of times he'd cheated and gotten caught — what an idiot?

  Cheating made no logical sense to her whatsoever, if you're unable to stay loyal in your relationship, then split up to save the heartbreak. It saves uproar and it saves affliction, if you cheat, you're heedless. She'll never fail to remember the day that girl kissed her in that park, she was stunning and if she didn't have a girlfriend already at the time, she wouldn't have pulled away so drastically.

  She never knew if that classified as cheating, she was only thirteen but it haunted her to the present day. Sky had nightmares about it no less than once a week, but she tried not to think about it, it was inflicting torment on her brain which already had enough strain weighed on it in it's present condition.

  All the exams, all the assignments, all the homework, all the money—making, it was like a bunch of books stacked atop her curly tangles of mocha hair. But, needless to say, far from the princesses in all of those Barbie movies, more comparable to the graceless nerd who never gets their glow up.

  It was no secret that Skylar was an out—and—out dork, but only her brother ever named her that, she savoured her books and her music and her tranquility. She hadn't involved herself in a relationship long since she was thirteen to avoid the unnecessary disturbance and stress, it causes grey hairs.

  But, now it was different, she was in a different place with different people who had not one single idea about her uttermost loneliness — which she prefers — and they also had dissimilar mindsets, but that was because of the drastic change in temperature. She had perceived that people in the heat tend to be more whimsical and spirited whilst others in December weather live miserably in depressed states.

  Even as herself and her brother rolled down the road in the town centre of Forks, passing by a small amount of other vehicles and a very limited number of stores, she could tell that they were all exhausted, and reasonably downhearted by the looks of it.

  Besides, she knew never to judge a book by its cover, so she looked deeper, a tiny smile creeping up onto her soft lips at the sight of a father and his daughter skipping down a pathway hand—in—hand. Her eyes watered just a tad, causing her to expeditiously raise her hand, wiping away the tear which threatened to fall.

  A scoff dragged her eyes from the heartwarming father—daughter pair and she glared over at her brother with teary eyes despite the fact that she expected him to find amusement in her sorrow, "Are you actually crying? You really need to deal with Dad dying. He's gone, move on." Jack rolled his eyes, tapping his fingertips on the leather steering wheel as he drove down the wide road hidden by tall, swaying trees.

  Skylar didn't reply, she never did, what was the point? It would start an argument because she could never get the last word in and that would only bring the stress she specifically didn't necessarily need or want. So, she blinked her tears away sufficiently and stared out the window, watching as they finally began to see houses come into view, rather small houses and they were all detached, cute little boxes with rather large gardens.

  That made her wonder, how much did their house possibly cost? Her best guess was way over six digits, but she supposed her brother's job in the army would give them that income. They rolled down the road, both siblings glancing out their windows, watching as laughing kids came piling out of their homes to go to school, their equally as content parents trailing behind them to escort them.

  A hint of a smile made it's way onto her lips, recalling the times when her mother drove her to school in the silver Mercedes Jackson currently owned, and then the times where her father drove her to school in the same vehicle entered her mind, this time she didn't smile, her caramel eyes threatened to cry... again.

  It wasn't as if she chose to cry, she hated crying, especially when her brother teased her — and not in the fun way — and made her feel dreadful with his stinging words that he knew made her heart clench with a sort of pain only an orphan could feel. She felt like an abandoned dog being taken in to an abusive home, just trauma and trauma repeatedly.

  They rolled up to a house which was much like the others, boxy but had quite the detail and looked enormously like a dream house in a way. All it needed was for it to rain, and then it would add perfectly to the aesthetic. It was two—stories, was built in white brick and had windows that would be considered to be on the smaller side, yet enough to bring an adequate amount of natural light to the home.

  "You have school, so put your bags in your room and get kicking." Jackson told her insensitively as he climbed out of his Mercedes and Skylar huffed as soon as the car door closed, knowing he couldn't hear her silent complaining. She debated on bringing her box, the box that included her pleasurable needs but she threw it out in hopes that it would end her suffering, but the real suffering was occurring inside of her mind, something a few cuts on her thighs couldn't suffice.

  She exited the vehicle shortly after Jack had, rounding the car to where her brother was taking his own bags out of the trunk and she pulled her main suitcase out, extending the handle so that it was easier to move. The curly—haired girl grabbed her duffle bag which was farther into the vehicle, but as she leaned in to pull it out, the trunk door closed onto her back, causing her to let out a loud yelp.

  "Sorry!" Jack laughed, his apology not genuine in any way whatsoever and she turned her head to look at him, scowling at him as he strolled away, a diverted smirk on his lips. He did it on purpose, she didn't need proof to know, if you knew Jack, you knew that her pain was his pleasure.

  Sky pulled her duffle out of the trunk properly, a never—ending glare on her face as she placed the bag onto the suitcase and finally grabbed her backpack before closing the trunk door without a person inside. She pulled her backpack strap onto her shoulder and grabbed ahold of the suitcase handle, dragging her luggage towards the house.

  The door was wide open, most likely from Jackson, she internally thanked him but he must've done it accidentally or without thought, he'd never undertake a gesture like that with actual care in his mind. She pulled her suitcase up the porch steps and made her way inside of the slightly comforting house, and the inside was even cosier than the outside.

  It was pre—decorated, neither of them would have the time to decorate it themselves, it saves them the trouble, she supposed her mother's spirit could do the mental decorating. An obnoxious voice brought her from her thoughts, and her eyes pulled away from the relaxing living room over to her brother's strong—held expression on his face.

  "Your bedroom is the first on the left and then you're getting the bus. Go before you're late, well... Not that I care, anyway." He snorted, his cell phone in his hand and he turned away from her, walking over to the kitchen counter to the large amount of paperwork resting on the wooden tabletop.

  Knowing he couldn't see her, she rolled her eyes and turned around, pulling her suitcase up the tall set of stairs backwards with two hands, hoping that it would add to her strength but it certainly didn't. She almost tripped, but thanks to her quick reflexes, she caught herself rapidly, continuing to pull the suitcase up the rest of the stairwell as if nothing ever happened.

  Her new bedroom was plain and had less colour than a hotel room, the bed sheets were white, the curtains were white, the furniture was white and even the walls were white. It felt like an asylum, but her artistic mind already had visions of what her bedroom could possibly be, the colours of her walls a medium purple or possibly even an oak tree green.

  The bed sheets a tan colour, or maybe even a floral pattern, a pretty purple carpet in the centre of the wooden panel flooring and books lining all of the furniture along with candles, moonstones and jewellery holders.

  Her eyes snapped down to the watch on her thin wrist, the time displaying 7:45am and that was when her mouth muttered the words, "Shit." She rushed down out of the room, her backpack still on her shoulder and she ignored her brother — who was still stood in the kitchen — rushing outside into the cold weather.

  A shiver sped up her spine almost immediately but she unfortunately had zero time to grab her jacket from her suitcase and so her long—sleeved top would do. She made her way to the nearby bus stop, her eyes searching both ends of the road with her slender arms wrapped around herself, her fingers caressing her upper—arms in hopes that would warm her up.

  Eventually, after what felt like forever, the bus arrived and slowed down in front of her, allowing her to climb in. In her back pocket was two quarters, which was enough to take her to Forks High School. Skylar smiled at the kind—looking driver and made her way further into the bus, sitting down in an empty seat on its own.

  Much to her surprise, there wasn't many people on the bus. She didn't want to stare or seem weird, but as she walked onto the bus, she just noticed an old white lady and a native boy, he looked to be a little older than her but not by much.

  She continued to shiver, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared away from the rest of the strangers on the bus and out of the window, searching for the school in order to know when she would get off. Suddenly, causing her to jump, a body moved into the seat next to her and she looked over, locking eyes with even darker ones but whilst hers were visibly showing she was suffering in silence, his were peaceful, comforting even.

  He was grinning from ear—to—ear and had something in his hands, she looked down, seeing a dark—grey corduroy jacket without a hood. She shook her head instantly, smiling at him gratefully, "Oh, no, it's okay. Thank you." She told him, continuing to rub her arms when she heard a heavy sigh and felt the jacket being placed over her shoulders, surrounding her with an instant warmth.

  Skylar shivered once more before letting out a sigh of relief, the cold feeling coming to a halt and she looked back over at him, only to see nobody in the seat beside her. And, so she looked back, locking eyes with the kind boy who was now sat back in his prior seat wearing a thin vest, practically naked if you asked her, especially in Forks' weather.

  She couldn't help but feel guilty, maybe if she didn't show how cold she was so selfishly, he wouldn't have felt sorry for her enough to give her his jacket. Sky looked back out the window after sending the boy a quick, sweet smile and noticed the bus slowing down in front of her new high school, making her abruptly stand up.

  In a debate with herself whether or not to give the jacket back, she had no time anyway, the bus had stopped in front of the school and if she didn't get off there and then, the driver would close the doors, driving off in expectations that nobody wanted to get off.

  So, she exited the long vehicle and turned around, looking back at the same boy again, who was watching her already, a small smile on his lips, making her smile. She didn't know him, he never even spoke, but she knew that he was a sweet soul for doing what he did, she knew he had a big heart just from the expression on his face.

  The bus drove off down the long road and she let out a heavy sigh, sliding her arms into the sleeves of the jacket before making her way towards the parking lot, strolling down the not—so—crowded pathway and heading inside of the reception just left to the main building which contained all of the classrooms.

  Sky was going off of what the signs told her, they gave her directions to where everything was and so she headed over to the main desk, retrieved her timetable and schedule before making her way towards her first class. It was one of her favourite classes — art. Fine art to be exact.

  The teacher, a short lady with glasses, approached her with a smile that told Skylar that she was going to be one of her favourite teachers. The type of teacher that'd let you have your cellphone out in class or drink anything other than water.

  "Oh, you must be Skylar! I love your hair!" The lady's voice was enthusiastic and high—pitched, like a ringing in your ears but far from irritating. The corners of Sky's lips upturned slightly, nodding in thanks and the woman rushed back over to her desk, picking up a sheet of paper and rushing back over, "This is just work to catch up, if you need anything else just call for me. You can find all of the supplies you need around the room, help yourself, lovely. Oh! Sorry, I almost forgot, I'm Miss Delaney."

  "Thank you." Skylar smiled again, tight—lipped this time and despite the fact that she was far from awkward, she still felt uncomfortable in the foreign environment, it would take some time getting used to.

  "No need to thank me, just doing my job." Miss Delaney walked off down the centre of the rows of seats which were set in pairs and she stopped near the back, speaking to a blond boy in the back right corner in a hushed manner. She watched as the boy groaned and glared, clearly exasperated by having to sit next to Skylar, if that was what Miss Delaney was informing him about.

  And if to almost read her mind, the teacher waved the curly—haired girl over, who quickly made her way to her, standing beside her quietly with multiple sheets of paper in her hands. Her eyes flicked over to the blond for just a short moment, and she just about caught a glimpse of his bright, golden eyes before she set her eyes back on Miss Delaney.

  "You'll be sitting next to Jasper for the rest of the year, you won't be doing any partner work so don't you worry about speaking to each other. Just focus on your work, okay? Okay." With that, the older brunette zoomed off, squeezing between Skylar and the table, heading straight towards her own desk and Sky stood there in silence for a short moment before taking a seat beside the miserable—looking Jasper.

  Sitting next to a human in class was not on Jasper's bucket list, he hated art as it was because of the several students in that said class who like to stroll around the room as if they were flies, zooming around for no particular reason. He struggled with the smell of blood as it was, he didn't need an intoxicating human right beside him all year.

  He refused to breathe, not that he needed to and he stared down at his sketchbook, a cross—hatched portrait of his wife on the open page, his lips upturning just slightly at the sight. Alice was his anchor, even when she wasn't present, just a picture of her gorgeous face was enough for him to feel grounded.

  And so, feeling confident, he breathed. He breathed deeply, heavily, but when the expected "painful" smell hit his senses, it was the complete opposite.

  Lavender, vanilla, cinnamon, she smelt like sugar. She smelt like fresh cinnamon rolls just out of the oven glazed in icing sugar, she smelt like a sweet dessert, a dream. Her scent made his worries disappear, his panicking mind easing.

  Jasper looked over at Skylar, watching as she grabbed her own acrylic paints from her backpack, placing them on the table and his lips pulled into a smirk before splitting apart, his tongue forming words in a weak Texan accent, "You're a painter? I'm more of a sketcher myself."

  Skyler furrowed her brows, the last thing she was expecting was for Not—So—Jazzy Jasper — as she named him in her mind — to speak to her but she smiled over at him nonetheless, her eyes drifting down to the portrait left open on his sketchbook page.

  It was beautiful, the girl he'd drawn was ethereal, she assumed the pixie—haired girl wasn't real and was a girl from a video game or a dream, "A talented sketcher, that's beautiful." Sky complimented, nodding at his pad and he glanced down at it, the proud smirk on his lips never leaving.

  "Why, thank you, ma'am." Jasper chuckled, feeling comfortable in the presence of the girl he didn't know much about, all he knew was her name — he overheard Miss Delaney mention her name when Skylar arrived.

  But, just her scent alone made him feel just enough peace to allow him to be relaxed around her, he didn't even notice the other students' obnoxious smells, all he could smell was her vanilla scented hair cream and cinnamon moisturiser, he felt like he was wrapped up in Alice's arms.

  He felt at home.

  But, Skylar felt the complete opposite. She missed her daddy.

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