Repose Memories (reposememories) wrote in repose, @ 2017-06-11 17:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | gwen riley, ~plot: memories |
[memory]
What: Memory
Will characters be viewing the memory or experiencing it?: Experiencing
Warning, this memory contains: Just coffee and talking.
The coffee is hot and the pastry flaky and full of fruit, and really, the morning is no different from any other morning. You're just relaxing in a wooden chair, elbows propped up on the table in front of you, having a conversation with the only man who has never led you wrong.
His words are always comforting, reassuring, but you miss the fact that he doesn't touch you anymore. You can still recall the way his hand felt upon your face, brushing back through your hair, whispering words of reassurance that everything would be alright and he would never let any harm come to you.
He says those words now, of course, just like always. That part hasn't changed. But he doesn't touch you anymore. Hands are folded together and you're a student smitten, listening and nodding and taking in all the information he has to give you.
He has big plans, after all, and he needs you to pay attention to what he's saying. Not that you've ever gotten it wrong in the past. You're not quite perfection, but he considers you to be quite close, and the smile he casts towards you from across the table is enough to push away any worries or concerns that you might have had.
You just have to trust him. It's not that hard. You love him, after all, even if he doesn't touch you anymore and you long for that bit of human connection with him. It's a small price to pay because you still have him with you. Not everyone can say that, after all, not after everything the two of you have been through.
He tells some joke, corny, something to make you smile, and you do. The coffee is bitter and black and the sweetness of the pastry is a good contrast. Your lips are wiped and he apologizes for not picking up the tab. But you remind him that it's okay, you've got it covered now. Remember? You've got a job. You're making it on your own.
It's nearly time for the cafe to close, the sun long since dropped below the horizon. You take a moment to wipe up the crumbs and crumple up the napkin on your plate, leaving it and your empty cup behind. He smiles and rises before you, ever the gentleman, and before you can quite get to your feet, he's gone.
The absence is profound, a hole in your chest, and the smile that had been lifting your lips moments prior promptly vanishes. Everything feels cold, though you can still hear his words, his reassurances.
Chin up. You've got this.
And you do. Your chin a little higher as you walk out, by yourself. You've got this.