How We Are (Carter)

[Dominique Chevalier]

Going out each morning for coffee was a comforting routine for Dom to have, even if it was solo. It gave him a reason to get out of the dorm and move, and he liked the walk even more now that it was warmer and there was less water in the earth under his feet. He was at the table outside that he always sat at, paying no attention to his surroundings as he drank his latte and sat in his own little cloud of smoke.

There were so many hours, dragging one after the other, all with nothing to fill them with but his own thoughts. His jaw was starting to click when he opened it now, aching from being clenched too tightly, too often. There had been one, and then two, and then three points of contact that had stood between him and his own sharp-edged ugliness and then one, and then two and then three had fallen away.

Like dominos. Like the world's lamest, shortest game of dominos.

Tapping his cigarette on the edge of the table to dislodge the hanging ash, Dom drank slowly.

Sometimes, in the recent weeks, he'd wished he and Carter were Gestalt. It would be worth losing his sense of self (that it would be Carter who was the dominant personality was not something he had to pause to decide on) to be able to feel connected to his brother again. He felt heavy with armour that no one else knew how to help him take off.

But that was how things were and there was no one else he wished to confide in. So he drank his coffee and smoked and would walk back to the dorms to read or to wonder the grounds with his grass stained feet, go to bed and do the same tomorrow.

The sound of a car approaching was nothing new, but the engine was smooth and new and sounded like money. It sounded like his car, and so when he looked up and saw black and green and blonde it was only a little of a surprise. Carter had honoured the cafe share system before, but he was here early. Dom contemplated leaving, but if Carter was here now he was doing so deliberately. And so, Dom sipped his coffee and smoked his cigarette and felt his jaw start to click.

[Carter Chevalier]

The Velvet-Tone lattes were bitter. Bitter from what Carter by now had denoted as a split crema. Burnt by way of a milk temperature well over 160 degrees. And the beans were likely left out for longer than the recommended set six hours. It bothered him - it all did - but he kept going back. At the same time. Because if nothing else, there was comfort in a routine, and after the way everything had been turning out lately, a routine comfort was necessary.

It was a life line.

But he was early. Not on purpose. Not by way of some greater plan. He simply was.

As he pulled into a park, he didn't bother checking his surroundings. He moved out of the vehicle, the sun washing over his features with whatever rays were bold enough to grace his skin. Behind his sunglasses, he followed his keys as he locked the door and turned back. Only then did he see the familiar face he missed so dearly.

But he didn't stop. Nor did he turn around and go back to his car as he walked. He simply walked. His hands filtered into his pockets, one producing a lighter as he tried to strike the end of the cigarette between his lips. But it wouldn't light. Even as he brought his other hand around to cup the flame from dwindling wind that could barely flush it out anyway, he found nothing.

And he'd run out of steps to take.

Beside Dom, the older twin paused in his footing and glanced at him. He dropped his tense jaw, intent to ask. A simple word would be all it took. Lumière. Light. As in, he needed one. But the single word would be enough.

He swallowed it, his pride swelling instead as he reached up and pressed the cigarette between his fingertips, drawing it away. With a careful amount of pressure, he snapped it and dropped it to the ground.

[Dominique Chevalier]

Carter continued to walk, and Dom watched his coffee and the way the dirty white foam clung to the sides of the glass. His whole body felt tense as he waited for something to happen. For anything to happen. The movement of Carter's lighter was watched out of the corner of Dom's blue eyes. The unsuccessful sparks of the lighter had him reaching for his own, where it lay by his latte glass and saucer.

He was standing right beside the table. Dom had not exhaled his lungful of smoke, his fingers touching the edge of his lighter. The tendons at the hinge of his jaw jumped. It played like a movie behind his eyes; Carter would turned and ask for a light and he'd flick his on and then he'd sit and order a coffee. Fade to black. Le Fin. It was a silent film.

That did not happen. His eyes tracked the short and shift path of the torn tube as it fell onto the floor before returning to Carter's face. The cigarette between his fingers burned up steadily, his fingers tapping against the edge of the saucer in tiny spasms. His throat worked. It wasn't ... he'd...

But it was useless now. What a waste.

Running a hand over his mouth, Dom pressed it there tight enough he could feel the outline of his teeth behind his lips. He blinked once, twice, and then looked back down to his coffee cup.

It was difficult for him to even try to articulate to himself what he he was feeling. It felt like a rotten-soft spot inside that ached like a deep bruise being pressed. The semi-permanent crease between his eyebrows deepened as his jaw clenched until his teeth hurt.

[Carter Chevalier]

Carter didn't allow his eyes to stray. Not initially. There was something overly daunting about letting his gaze settle on the slightly younger face he recognised so well. Seven minutes; what hell that had been for their mother, she always said. What hell it'd been for their father, he'd always argue.

Seven minutes of separation. That'd been the most real disconnect they'd suffered through for their whole lives.

And now, it'd been almost seven long months.

Raising a hand, Carter allowed his fingertips to trail along the line of his white-blonde hair, ensuring its perfection despite the fact that he was certain it was perfect. He looked over without the strength to deny himself the chance as Dominique's eyes left him.

Blinking. Looking at his cup; no bitter twist at the corner of his mouth for how much he hated that coffee. Yet he'd drink it anyway.

"Weightless." The Chevalier cracked, the corner of his mouth turning into a bitter grin. "Fucking weightless."