mistaken identity {Carter}

[Erik Stewart]

Erik never came by without an invitation, so he might have got a text asking to see him sometime after class, or even sometime tonight, or something else equally vague as to cause some confusion. When he knocked at the twins’ door, he had on a tattered denim button-up and some sweatpants – a clashing pair to be sure, but he’d never been too concerned with it, especially if he was just walking from one side of the dorms to the other.

There was only a faint mark on the corner of his mouth, now, and he was carrying a crumpled piece of paper in his pocket. It’d come from the hospital, indicating a clean bill of health, a white slate, whatever one wanted to call it – so he’d a pleased glow about him.

When someone blond and tall opened the door, he assumed it was Dominique. Other than the fact his identical twin occupied the same exact dorm he did, Erik had no reason to suspect that it was anyone but Dom. He had never met Carter before nor had he thought he’d ever seen him, so he wasn’t expecting a mix up.

So he just smiled easily. “Hey hotshot,” he said.

[Carter Chevalier]

A typical day around the dorm, really. Carter had been in his room trying to finish off a recent paper before missing the deadline. Normally he'd check on Dominique's too, but as of late, that relationship was relatively strained. So he resided to allowing his younger brother to fend for himself. He'd be fine.

He was half in the middle of changing when he stepped out into the common room to make some coffee. He almost hoped their awkward roommate would stumble out to find the Chevalier shirtless; a tight black T folded over his shoulder deftly with his fitted jeans still very much in tact. He didn't want to overload her with the sight of him, after all. Before he could make any headway on his beverage, he was distracted by the sound of a knock at the door. Glancing around, Carter wondered if he had to answer it. After a few moments, that seemed so. He breathed an irritated sigh.

As Carter opened the door, he was greeted by a look of familiarity. That this person knew him. Or at the very least, assumed they did.

The difference being, Carter knew who he was.

"Excuse you?" He asked, raising his eyebrows and immediately eyeing what he was wearing. But his gaze only went so far as the sight of denim - he needed to wander no further.

[Erik Stewart]

Nonplussed, he offered him a bland “What?”

Stuffing his hands in his sweatpants’ pockets, he looked over at Carter, who looked and sounded and talked like Dom, still hovering by the door. There was nothing but the light of recognition in Erik’s eyes. He approached him easily. Maybe he should have known something was up, given that Carter looked a little pissed off, but Dom always looked a little pissed off, too.

“It’s a good thing y’called today ‘cause yesterday I walked fifteen blocks down t’the hospital. ‘Bout froze my nose off, all for this little number,” he said, taking out the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. The lettering wasn’t clear, and he didn’t really give Carter enough time to discern what it was before he lowered it again. “Worth it though.”

Erik looked him over. He noted Carter's expression hadn't changed; he tilted his head curiously. “So…” he tried, “you feelin’ any better?”

[Carter Chevalier]

Carter stared - as cold as Dom would to a stranger - at this guy. Of course he knew who he was. How could he miss him? He'd been hovering around 2-0-5 more and more lately, and that was something he couldn't exactly ignore.

Still, he listened to the words rambled towards him, his hand pressing against the door frame. There was no way he was brushing past the older Chevalier to get into that common room. Not unless he willed it. And as it stood in this very moment, he did not.

He didn't bother looking at the letter in his hand. He didn't care.

When asked if he was feeling any better, he breathed something of an irritated sigh.

People were idiots.

"I didn't call you." Carter replied deftly.

[Erik Stewart]

Erik waited. When he got an answer he squinted, and shifted his weight onto his right foot. “Well,” he began, in an aggressively questioning tone, “you texted.”

Sooner or later he was bound to realize this wasn’t Dominique. He had an identical twin (or nearly – whichever), who occupied the same dorm as he did, and this, coupled with Carter’s unwelcoming stare, and general cold attitude, made the wheels turn. Though the Chevalier twins might have been known for their coldness, he expected a little more warmth than this. At least a pass into the dorm, for one. Maybe a smile if he was lucky.

Still, the realization had yet to come, though Carter might see his brows turn in and his eyes search his face. Suspicion set in. He scanned him quickly down to his toes and up again. Erik had always been easily readable. He straightened up and put a hand on his waist.

“You got ‘uh fuckin’ problem?” he asked, in the face of his eternal stony silence.

[Carter Chevalier]

"No, I didn't." Carter replied in time.

Contrary to the read Erik assumed he was getting, Carter wore no scowl. He stared at him. The only emotion he allowed past his stonewall exterior was a sliver of frustration in his blue eyes. He knew not to judge his brother's choice in a counterpart - as such a sense worked visa versa - but this, certainly, was different.

Finally, it seemed this one was bothering to look at him properly. The connotations of his face said it all. Carter had a mole on the right by his mouth, another on the left of his chin. Simple, significant details that most people bothered to notice before they bothered to come looking for one of them.

It was easy. It was what made him so angry when people assumed they were one in the same. That this individual had not yet learned the simple details of his brother's face automatically made him worthless.

"I do." He replied, his tone even. His voice calm. What would be the point in emanating the frustration he felt? "My name is Carter."

And with that, he made the move to close the door on him.

[Erik Stewart]

Erik stuck out a hand to stop the door from closing.

“Fine. Carter.” Real nice to meet you too. “Sorry I thought y’were your identical twin brother. Speaking of – he, y’know - ” Erik tried to look over Carter’s shoulder, to no avail. “ – around?”

He was quite aware at this point that Carter wanted nothing to do with him, that he was bothering him, and he probably didn’t want some slight trash talking kid with an accent around his brother, but damn if he walked all the way over here for nothing. The co-ed dorms weren’t even that far from his but he still wasn’t too keen on a second hike and another round of disapproval from the brother.

“Look, you tell me that much an’ I’ll let you get back to…” He spared a glance at his bare upper body. “…whatever it was you were doin’.”

[Carter Chevalier]

When the door didn't close, Carter felt his eyebrow twitch in frustration. When he was done, he was done. Anything said to him was white noise.

The nerve of this individual to speak to him in such a way. It was rude enough to mistake a person for another - even the people who disliked him couldn't possibly screw a situation up that badly. But this person was capturing his brother's attention and hadn't bothered to learn the differences. That he would think to remind Carter he had an identical twin, of all things, was just idiotic.

He didn't care who Dom spent his hours with. He cared when those people didn't bother to register him as a person.

Because it was cruel. And regardless of where they stood together, no one was cruel to Carter Chevalier's brother. His life line.

The demand - which was how he took it regardless - had the older twin's mouth twitching, a dry laugh boiling passed his lips. He pulled the door open a little more, his gaze unwavering, even if he wanted to stare at the hand that held the door. But his expression and tone were as neutral as they came; "Listen. You just spent the better half of a conversation assuming I give a damn about you. You made a mistake. You don't get to request a damn thing from me." He explained calmly.

"If you want to find him, call him. Or text him. I'm sure by now you know those are two separate modes of communication." Neutral as he was, he understood how it would seem like the most unnatural thing in this current situation. But it was a Chevalier's means of communication.

A perfect poker face at every turn. Until they willed you to know this wasn't a game.

"Now," He exhaled the word, closing his eyes for a brief moment before staring back, his stonewall expression crumbling to one of pure, unadulterated anger; "Let the fucking door go or I'll break your fucking fingers with it."

[Erik Stewart]

Erik cut in before he could finish his sentence. “I know how t’use a phone, asshole,” he blurted.

There was a noticeable flush on Erik’s face. He was uncomfortable; this much was obvious. It wasn’t just written over his face, it shone out his wide blue eyes and was apparent in the way one of his arms crossed over his middle. It wasn’t often he fell woefully short in a conversation and he wasn’t prepared for it. Neither was he sure he liked how Carter was staring at him.

“It wasn’t a fuckin’ request it was just - ” He shrugged helplessly. “Jesus, what’d’you want me t’say? I said I was fuckin’ sorry. Shit ain’t good enough for you?”

Apparently it was not. Erik didn’t exactly balk in the face of his anger, but he did lift his hand off the door and raise his palms up, a fine, have it your way kind of deal. He lifted his eyebrows and took a half step back. His other arm crossed over his middle, too.

[Carter Chevalier]

Regardless of Erik's choice of words, Carter hadn't stopped talking about his inability to distinguish a text from a call. Chevalier's never allowed themselves to be cut off so simply.

"You are not apologetic." Carter denoted, as simply as he could given the nature of his form; the way his hands shook from the anger he felt. He paid no mind to the expression in this boys eyes. He cared about that as much as Erik had cared to notice the features of the twin he was fucking.

By no means was a thrown word good enough for the older twin. Or his brother.

Carter wasted no time catching the way his arms rose in tandem with his eyebrows.

Once his hand was off the door, it was slammed shut.