diogelu | [for teresa] your heart drifted off; like the land split by sea

It's not that he remembers being Eric Gaines. He doesn't.

Cadogan Thomas has lived his entirely own life, after all. He's struggled his way valiantly into exactly the person he is today. He's pulled every fiber of his being through to the life he's settling into now; into liking himself well enough to feel he deserves the stability and contentment.

That doesn't mean he isn't living with another man's face.

It isn't a change he notices. It isn't abrupt or violent, after all. His own mother barely notices the difference when she kisses his cheeks in the morning. The fact is, all the same, that a piece of the man who had been Eric Gaines gets stuck in him, stubbornly refusing to leave the world after finding the last flicker of Cassie in a woman who had actually understood how to care. How to love.

So after Eric Gaines' body fails him completely following a sharp rain of lead (why had he thought he could get away? why had he fucking tried to promise Teresa a good, 'clean' life when he knew he'd always get drawn straight back in to the world he came from?), Cadogan Thomas wakes up with his nose a little narrower and his cheeks a littler ruddier and his shoulders a little broader and a clinging piece of a soul that isn't yet wholly his stuck deep into the folds of his own.

It's more than a month later--more than a month getting used to the little changes he can barely see in himself--that he walks into a coffee shop, fingers already tapping in an agile flurry over the keys of his phone for a simple order of tea.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

hey_sexy_latte

She should have known better, in hindsight. She should have anticipated that this kind of love would only end in grief.

But, well. She'd been optimistic, at the end of the day. She suspected she always would be, no matter how much that little voice inside her (and she's not sure, most days, if that's from the 'Cassie' Eric saw in her face, or Eric himself) would try otherwise.

It makes sense, then, that when she glances up and sees a familiar face that shouldn't be there, she still thinks there's a chance he is.

"--Eric?"

From:

diogelu

It isn't his name. There's no reason to respond to it like it's his name, because it isn't his name.

It's still spoken in his direction with some amount of firmness and certainty, enough to get him glancing up from his phone with an affable enough smile on his lips.

There's where the difference is, more than anything. His face might be a dead man's, but he holds it in bright enough expressions that he doesn't look at all like he might be carrying the whole world on his shoulders.

From:

hey_sexy_latte

It's not him.

It looks really quite astonishingly like him, but it's not him. Eric had never smiled like that, even to her.

The disappointment in her face will be obvious, "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were-- someone else."

From:

diogelu

He spends most of his life studying people's faces. He has the benefit of being able to hear words and process tone, true, but he's still spent most of his life focused on reading expressions the way his actual first language demanded.

It takes him aback, just slightly, to see the flood of disappointment. His fingers move quickly over his phone, erasing his order so he can turn a much shorter message over to her.

Sorry.

From:

hey_sexy_latte

"No, it's... It's not your fault."

Is this how Eric felt when he first saw her? This awful sucker punch to the chest? She's lucky he even gave her a chance, if so.

"...What can I get you?"

From:

diogelu

She still looks more distraught than the average barista. It has his own brow furrowing faintly, fingers tapping in quiet concern against the back of his phone for a moment.

It's impossible not to keep typing even after he's got his order out.

Large Early Grey, black. Are you okay?

From:

hey_sexy_latte

"Got it," she replies, getting to work at ringing up the order before she adds, smile trembling, "And I'm-- all right. I'm sorry for troubling you."

From:

diogelu

It isn't often that he inspires genuine sadness like this in the back of a person's smile. He can't shake the lingering feeling that he really ought to know why, something nagging and impossible.

You're sure?

From:

hey_sexy_latte

"I'm sure. It's fine. It's just--"

The words spill out before she can stop herself.

"--What's your name?"

From:

diogelu

He's done this before. Hasn't he?

It takes a faint shake of his head before he can focus on the fact he's certainly never seen her before; certainly never stood face to face with someone he didn't know feeling he absolutely knew them.

Thomas.

From:

hey_sexy_latte

"Thomas," she echoes, eyes dropping to focus on making his drink, "I'm-- Teresa."

From:

diogelu

It feels important. Maybe it's just that it seems to feel important to her. It's certainly enough to have him lingering against the counter.

It's nice to meet you.

It's definitely a meeting. Right?

From:

hey_sexy_latte

"...You, too."

Because this is definitely a first meeting. It's definitely not a reunion.

At least, that's what she's telling herself.

From:

diogelu

Maybe it's uncertainty more than sadness. Maybe it's just something lingering in her eyes, the way old souls often looked a little tired at the edges.

It's still got him lingering.

Sorry for startling you.

From:

hey_sexy_latte

"It's not your fault," she repeats, "But-- thank you. For being sorry."

She hesitates for a moment in continuing to speak as she hands over his drink, but decides to go ahead with it.

"I hope you-- come by again."

From:

diogelu

He'd been ready for one last smile and sneaking away. He'd been infinitely prepared to glance in before entering the shop so he won't startle her.

So it's got him hesitating with a brief blink of his eyes.

Yes?

From:

hey_sexy_latte

"Yeah," she replies, struggling to find a reason that doesn't sound odd for the statement. Her smile is shaky, "We've got-- pretty good coffee, after all."

From:

diogelu

His own twitch of lips isn't quite a smile, but certainly looks more like one than the nervous shiver on her face.

If you're sure.

His faltering isn't quite like Eric's had been. He understands kindness and consideration, after all. It still gets his shoulders twisting up in confusion.

I wouldn't want to be a bother.

From:

hey_sexy_latte

"It'll be all right," she says, managing a more proper smile, "I think I can handle it."

From:

diogelu

That eases his own, head bobbing in acceptance. His hand move in a sharp, precise motion with palm upward to his own gut by instinct before he remembers to actually use his phone. She's oddly easy to talk to, after all.

Thank you.

From:

hey_sexy_latte

"You're welcome," she says, "Have a-- good day."

From:

diogelu

There's a happy little wave for her in response. It's best, after all, to encourage the edge of a smile peeking through with her. A piece of him is completely sure it's a very important thing.

And that piece of him will have him back early again the next morning for his first cup of coffee.

From:

hey_sexy_latte

It'll be nice to see him again. Seeing him enter the room will earn another smile.

"Hi. Tea again?"

From:

diogelu

His hands move before his brain does, as often happens first thing in the morning. Unfortunately, the grinding fists that symbolize 'coffee' in ASL aren't necessarily instantly recognizable.

It takes half a second to remember himself. One hand moves to dig for his phone while the other starts to finger-spell. 'C' and 'O' are easily explicable, hopefully.