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

[diogelu]

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.

Comments

[diogelu]

It's a little surprising, given the hurt hanging around the edges of her smile the day before. It's still incredibly encouraging to hear the soft pleased sound.

What else is there?

[hey_sexy_latte]

"Oh, all sorts."

And she'll go off into rattling a couple of the options on the menu. She'll hesitate only a moment before adding at the very end the option most likely the way Eric used to drink it.

[diogelu]

The fact there's more than one option is clearly overwhelming. The fact she can rattle off quite a few has him blinking.

But there's certainly something about the last one that has him blinking with appreciation.

Americano sounds great.

[hey_sexy_latte]

It earns the faintest hint of a wince, but she tries to keep her expression bright regardless.

"Coming right up."

[diogelu]

It's largely the need to be keyed into facial features that has him stepping forward slightly in concern. It's just that it's possibly also a strange, sticky need in the back of his chest to be helpful to a woman he's met once and clearly makes sad.

Cheers. It's okay if I drink it here?

[hey_sexy_latte]

"That's fine."

Her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes, but she tries.

[diogelu]

Imperfect reaction at best.

Should I put on my glasses?

It changes the line of a face, after all.

[hey_sexy_latte]

She's clearly surprised, but the offer makes her smile.

"...Would you mind?"

[diogelu]

[so you can appreciate that it's 100% terribad nerdery i can't with his face]

It's not a perfect solution. They're reading glasses, after all, not something to spend hours looking through. Still, it's easy enough to dig them out of his pocket and pop them on with just the faintest bit of squinting as his eyes adjust.

Both hands lift hopefully. Better?

WHAT A NERD OMG

[hey_sexy_latte]

It eases some tension in her shoulders she hadn't even realized was there.

"Thank you."

it needed sharing. i started cackling in the library.

[diogelu]

His shrug is entirely comfortable now, one hand nudging the glasses more firmly into place while the other sets back to typing.

Not exactly a burdensome effort.

it's beautiful /o/

[hey_sexy_latte]

"It's still appreciated."

Because seeing him does still hurt, at least a little bit.

[diogelu]

That's easy enough to grin about, head ducking just a hair self-consciously. It feels good, after all, to be helpful. To be soothing. To be not a burden.

Put them on outside tomorrow.

[hey_sexy_latte]

"Thank you," she repeats, smiling as she hands over his drink, "It really is very kind of you."

[diogelu]

One shoulder lifts absently, fingers tapping on the side of his phone before hitting the keys again.

It probably gets paid forward into the next go-around.

However many there were. His mother had always held that his eyes were old enough to have lived a hundred lifetimes.

[hey_sexy_latte]

She can't help the way the words make her gaze sharpen; searching in his eyes for some hint that it's more than just a joke. Her smile wavers very briefly.

"I'd imagine so."

[diogelu]

His own brows lift in pleasant surprise, body shifting closer to lean more fully against the counter.

Really?

He'd prefer that, after all, to his father's version of life after death.

[hey_sexy_latte]

"Oh, yes," she says with a nod, "I-- quite firmly believe that we get-- at least a couple tries at this."

[diogelu]

That's good.

This almost feels like a reward, after all.

[hey_sexy_latte]

"It is, isn't it?"

It means second (or more) chances. That's always welcome.

[diogelu]

It feels a little easier to be settled in now, with less nerves between them.

Maybe a little weird. Never know if it's your first chance or your twelfth.

[hey_sexy_latte]

A soft laugh.

"As long as there's chances, I don't think I mind it."

[diogelu]

His brow furrows thoughtfully for a moment at that.

Seems a little difficult not to wonder. Longer you live, more it seems like you must be bumping into the same people.

[hey_sexy_latte]

That does briefly get her expression flickering, but it's something more hopeful this time.

"Hopefully you have-- good history with 'em, if that's the case."

[diogelu]

Do you think people can tell?

It's a bit of an unusual question, maybe, but it's one he feels compelled to ask.

Her. Not most people, but her.