The day I met Rafel was another of those memories impressed into my mind. How could I ever forget it? From that fateful day to the day he drew his last breath he was the most important person in my life. Those three years we had together were short but will forever mean the world to me. My only regret was taking the time I had with him for granted.

Our little boarding school was located just two miles out from central Carcassonne, surrounded by vineyards and bordered by tall cypress trees. Between the gaps one you could see the walls of the old city, majestically crowning the hill, foregrounded by rows and rows of grape vines. It was truly majestic in the evenings, when the sun setting in the west caused the ancient walls and towers to cast long shadows over the fields. To the south lay even more vineyards, dotted with occasional clumps of shrublands nestling small villas, inns and estates. Juniper, lavender and kermes oak lined the winding lanes, and telephone wires criss-crossed against the backdrop of the blue sky.

We had met on the first day, when we were moving into our rooms. I had arrived from Perpignan, lugging a bag full of my belongings – things that I thought were important as a fifteen year old: my clothes, my books and a few photographs of my cat.

I was late, as I had missed the bus from Perpignan and had to wait for the next one. The lonely bus ride through the Occitan countryside was one of the first few times I've ever left my hometown alone. The route stopped through all the major towns, and in between them I could see nothing but lush green fields, endless vineyards and forested mountains. 

Alighting at the main bus station at Carcassonne, I had to hire a taxi to get to the grounds of the boarding school. I cursed myself for missing the bus, I would've been able to catch the bus the school had chartered for arriving students if I had not been late. Now, I had to spend a sizeable chunk of my allowance on the taxi fare.

I was rushing off to the taxi station when I heard someone call out.

"Hey!" a man's voice came from behind me. "Wait a moment!"

I turned around and saw a boy stumbling down the bus with a large canvas sports bag hanging from his shoulder. He had dark hair and wore a tight-fitting knitted navy sweater, similar to the one that I had worn.

"I guess we're headed to the same place, huh?" he remarked, when he had closed the distance between us. He pointed to the school crest knitted onto his breast.

I nodded.

"That's great!" he replied, the excitement in his voice rising. "I saw you on the bus from Perpignan and I thought of sitting beside you, but you didn't seem like you wanted to be disturbed."

I only smiled curtly, shoving my hands in my pockets.

"You're not too much of a talker, are you?" he chuckled, raising his eyebrow. "That's alright."

"I could," I replied. "I just don't have the energy to."

"You're funny," he smirked. "I'm sure we'll get along well."

I raised my eyebrow.

"Oh would we now?" I asked.

I didn't mean it to sound harsh, but it was my most natural response.

"I mean why not?" he chuckled, seemingly unfazed. "Besides, do you know anybody else there?"

"No, not a single soul," I said, shrugging.

To be truthful, I was just really not used to being approached so directly like that. I was prepared to spend my day barely talking to anyone, and slowly easing myself into the environment. Not like this. But I suppose it was fate that I missed the bus and spent my first few hours in Carcassonne with him. It turned out to be one of the most cherished memories I ever had. Something that I would hold close to my chest whenever I missed him.

"Rafel," he said, extending his hand out.

His grip was firm as I took it. Truth be told, I found his insouciance towards me charming. What others find in me to be cold, aloof and rude he found interesting.

"Mateu."

He dropped his heavy bag onto the ground and stretched his arms in front of him.

"Say, would you like to go exploring with me?" he asked. "I was thinking of going up into the old town and climbing up the ramparts."

"Oh, when?"

"Right now."

I felt my eyebrows scrunch into a frown as my eyes widened. Was he for real?

"You don't have to look at me like that," he chuckled. "You're treating me as if I just asked you to rob a bank with me."

"You do realise we're late," I said, shaking my head.

"If we head there now, what difference does it make?" he replied. "We'd still be late anyway."

"That's not really how it works."

"Eh," Rafel replied. "Besides, if you've read the itinerary for the orientation they were going to take the first-years on a short introduction to the town anyway. We could catch the bus with them on the way back."

I bit my lip as I tapped my foot. He was right, but at the same time a part of me felt like I should be hurrying down to school. Yet at the same time, it wasn't like I really wanted to be there. Entering late all by my own would draw unnecessary attention to myself, I thought.

"Well if you're not interested, I can just go by myself," he shrugged in the end, seemingly having lost his patience. "I'll see you around I guess."

With that, he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked off. He had only made it a few metres when I finally made up my mind.

"Rafel," I called out to him. "Don't walk so fast."

I noticed the smirk on his lips as I hurried up next to him.

"It's going to be fun," he assured me. "Trust me."

We made our way to the old city, up on the hill. It was amazing how well-preserved it all was – the medieval walls were still intact, the lead roofing of the towers pointing towards the sky, dominating the low skyline. We walked along the ramparts, overlooking the entire city. The huddle of sandstone and terracotta-tiled buildings to the north were arranged in a grid, centred around the train station. They were where all the modern amenities were - shops, grocery stores, cafes, and boutiques, all with canopied storefronts. Beyond them were fields and pastures. I could make out the towers of village churches in the distance.

To the south were the Pyreenes, its peaks jutting from the distance. The lower foothills were covered in forest, dotted with the occasional village and castle, whereas the taller mountains were bare. The peak of the Canigou loomed over in the distance, so far away yet always within reach. It felt omnipresent, always watching over us. Every living soul existing under its shadow.

"I can't wait until it's winter," Rafel said as we both stood there admiring the view of the mountains. "They're all going to be covered in snow."

"Yeah that would be beautiful wouldn't it?" I remarked as I leaned against the crenellations.

We stood there for a while, admiring the beauty of those mountains. I spotted our school in the distance, the chateau and its grounds laying beyond the vineyards. That was when I had the crazy idea pop up in my mind.

"Do you mind walking?"

"And I thought I was the one with crazy ideas," he said.

"Oh, come on," I tried to nudge him. "You did say you were looking to explore. I'm pretty sure there's lots of interesting things on the way down to school."

Well, it was partly the truth. It did seem like a scenic and lovely route. But mostly because I didn't feel like waiting around until lunch for the school group to arrive. Especially then with a boy I barely knew. But to be fair, he did make excellent company.

In the end we left through the Porte Narbonnais, and started making our way down the winding country roads. We passed an old cemetery right outside the city walls, which seemed to interest Rafel. I asked him if he knew anyone in Carcassonne, thinking that perhaps he was looking for a grave of a relative or a friend.

"No," he replied. "Not a single soul."

"I see." I noticed him mirroring my exact words from earlier. "We're in the same boat then."

"I hope its big enough for the two of us," he answered. "I wouldn't want to sink it."

I couldn't help but let a small smile creep up to my lips.

Rafel always knew what to say. He just had that charm to him. The way he so easily made me feel at ease with him was testament to that. He was the first person whom I let my guard down with. It was rare to find someone like that. I suppose he was the one who slowly led me to come out of my shell, something at that point I thought was never possible.

We continued on our journey towards school grounds. The walled city was far behind us now. To our right was a vineyard, the leaves of the grapevines so green and lush.  Occasionally a car would rumble past, or the chirps of the birds perched atop of the telephone wires would ring through the air. Otherwise, the road felt abandoned. It was only just the two of us - Rafel and I.

In the plots of land not used to cultivate grapes, remnants of the old scrublands peeped from the narrow junctions of a forking path. Shrubs and other low-lying plants - thyme, wild oregano and rosemary -  were aplenty in spaces like these, though I had to admit they pleasantly broke the monotony of seeing rows and rows of perfectly manicured grapevines. It was near one of these junctions where we saw the large oleander bush. Most of the flowers were in full boom, their petals a pretty shade of peony pink.

Rafel stopped us, and he took a few minutes standing there admiring the blooms. That was the first time I witnessed him do it, and it definitely wasn't the last. Wherever we were whenever he caught sight of the familiar bush with its five-petaled flowers, he would stop, even for just a moment to admire them. I wondered what he loved so much about them. Their scent of faint apricot was nothing extraordinary, their leaves were long and broad, and there was nothing noteworthy of them save for their poison.

But now, every time I see that bush and its cascading branches and bright blooms it brings me to the day I met the friendly dark-haired boy at the bus station on the first day of school. Every time I see one, I had the strong feeling in my chest to just pluck a branch and hold it close to me. To hold on to everything that I've lost.

A few days after moving into my new apartment in Marseille I took a shortcut through a park after getting cigarettes. I wanted to clear my mind – I had moved into a new city, starting my classes at university, and hoped to start a new life. In those few turbulent months after his death I had tried to forget him and erase him in totality from the depths of my mind. 

The crescent-shaped limestone hills crowning the city made me feel safe' closed away from the world, and despite how crowded it was, it never once felt suffocating. My coursework had kept me busy, and examining cases had filled my head. Details of disputes and court proceedings were filed away in my mind, to stop myself from opening the floodgates of painful memories.

I didn't want to remember. I didn't want to think about any of it.

But memory is a funny thing - the more you try to control it, the more unpredictable it becomes. Something you thought of as long forgotten can just one day reemerge from the depths, more vivid than ever.

It was then when I caught sight of that familiar peony pink shrub, and it hit me all at once – how much I missed him, how much he had meant to me, how painful it was to mourn in silence. How he was no longer with me in this world.

Memory sure does love to play its tricks on me. I had seen oleanders perhaps countless of times in Marseille. I had never cared for them, or perhaps I had blocked any association they had with him out of my mind. But that evening in the nameless park in a nondescript Marsellais neighbourhood was all it took to bring everything back. Perhaps it was the universe's way of telling me that he still held a special meaning to me. It was a truth I had known all along, buried deep within the depths of my grieving heart.

I sat down on a stone bench and heaved out a heavy sigh. Usually I would light one up and let the smoke take away the pain, but I wasn't in the mood for it that day.

Instead I walked over to the bush. Have the flowers always seemed so delicate, or was it just the tricks of the dying evening light? Without a second thought I severed one of the thin branches, one of the lower upward-pointing ones, crowned with a few tufts of flowers. The sticky sap fell onto my palms, but I didn't care.

Rafel had told me even the sap was dangerous, but at that point it just didn't bother me. He was right, like he always was – my hands burned for the next few days, the slow onset of the rash having not reached me yet.

When I reached home, I filled a vase with water. Chucking the oleander branch in it, I placed the vase in the middle of the empty dining table, as some sort of morbid centrepiece.

Rinsing my hands under the tap to get rid of the toxins, I picked up my phone and drew in a deep breath.

I called the only person in this strange, buzzing city of three million souls that I truly knew – my girlfriend, or rather, ex-girlfriend, Amélie Gilliéron.