Thank You

Fault

"Well, look who decided to show up !"

I push the door back in place and take my coat off, not looking for one second towards the person who clearly just talked to me.

"I had to cover up for your shit last night , y'know ? Minnie called, and then Ash called, and I had to go back before Jack saw you left. Minnie said you'd just left. Without sayin' nothing. That's kinda fucked up, y'know that Luna."

My bag drops on the floor as I turn around, a deep frown anchored to my face.

"Listen, Ed. Don't you fucking start, because I can list every single time I've had to cover up for your shit. So, don't come around and say it was that fucked up just because I don't want to fuck you, alright ? I don't give you shit when your turn up to work, or when you leave early, and I have to stay for the night. Don't act like you're the nicest dude on Earth, and then just say this kind of nonsense like I fucking deserve it. If anything, I should be giving you that speech. And I will if you keep going."

My face is cold, my gaze both hard and empty ; largely enough to make Eddie cower. A sense of guilt is floating on his face, and he doesn't appear all that charming and confident ; nothing but a little boy whose mother just yelled at. His voice isn't quite so reproachful when he speaks again.

"Hey... I didn't wanna sound like that, okay ? I just... We were scared. As shit. You wouldn't answer to any of us, and we just kinda freaked out. Sorry for going at you, I'm just relieved I can do it."

I know exactly the feeling, and I can't exactly hold it against him ; after all, New York is a dangerous city. A warm wave washes over me, and my muscled relax almost at once. I hadn't even noticed they were tense in the first place. It's only the reaction of one who cares about me, I should have known ; Ash did yell at me when I came home. But I wouldn't have dared to think that he could've actually cared about me. How could he ?

Some sort of awkwardness replaces the warmth much too quickly. He couldn't care that much. Ash is the only exception. I am not worthy of the care or love of anyone. And I can't allow anyone new to love me. I can't let it happen anymore. I simply can't.

"Just get to work, alright  ?" I hesitantly reply with a trial at a humorous and light tone, slapping him gently with the towel I have just started drying wine glasses with.

He only replies with a small, shy smile that doesn't look nearly like I've seen him before.

But there is no time for me ton reflect on this whole other side of my colleague. There is no time for me to worry about anything. Anything except these eyes. These ocean eyes. Oh ! I had missed them ! These eyes I can finally drown myself in again. Only, can I really ? No. No, they aren't hers. This isn't her, and I can't. She's gone. I made it happen, I should know. But these eyes. They're staring at me. He's staring at me. Or is she ?

It all happens in a matter of seconds, but the world seems to freeze as I rediscover this familiar blue gaze. The bell rings as he opens the door and shyly steps in – being alone and sober makes a lot of difference for a person – and I wish I hadn't come. I wanted to for the sole reason that I wanted to gaze into these blue orbs again, but I cannot face him. I cannot face him without slowly breaking apart ; this disguise, this mask, this falsely painted brick I have been building over the last twelve years is cracking, letting glimpses of me – Diana, not Luna – show ever so slightly.

He is walking towards me. He can recognize me. Whether it is because of that night all these years ago, or because of yesterday, I do not know, but he does recognize me, that is for sure. He looks at least as unsure as I am, but so much braver. Just like his mother. And all of the sudden, he his sitting mere inches from me, and I only now realize I haven't as much as blinked since I have first caught a sight of him at the door.

What happens now ?

"I know you, don't I ?"

He has grown up. So much. His face is a beautiful mix of both his parents. The features he got from Andrew should look horrendous – just like the man himself – but Cate's traits make him look perfectly harmonious. Harmonious and handsome, yes, but utterly painful to look at. It is a mix of hate and beauty. It is sadness – no – grief. Pain. Nostalgia. Buried memories.

"Waitresses don't just give up full bottles for free, right ?"

I can almost read his thoughts. He knows. He isn't sure, or rather he is, but he wishes he wasn't. There is this glint of fear laced with hope shining in his eyes. These eyes. Her eyes.

"You know me."

It isn't a question anymore ; it is a statement. Oh, he knows very well, doesn't he ?

"Yes. Yes, I do."

I can see him swallow his own saliva by the movement of his throat.

"You were there. It was you."

"Yes. Yes, it was me."

But when I look at him, his eyes are unreadable. Just like hers used to be. I have no idea what he might be thinking. I can only ever guess.

Oh, I can see it coming. Him knocking off the clean and dry glasses I set in front of me, killed her.' Yes, I can hear them already. Because I did. I killed her. I may not have pulled the trigger, but she would never have been standing on that sidewalk had I never met her, talked to her or accepted her invitation. She wouldn't have died had she not fallen in love with me. If it was ever love. If it wasn't, did she die for nothing in the end ? All these years ago, I was so sure about this ineffable feeling we shared, what I was sure to be love. I had grown so certain about one thing : that we both loved each other more than life itself. But I am not a teenager anymore. The naivety I still had in pieces at that time disappeared long ago, and with that, left only doubt about the realness of it all. I was so new to this; I may have just imagined this connection, amplified it with my own foolishness.

But then, it would've been for nothing. It would mean she didn't die in the name of love. It would mean she just died. For nothing. It would mean I killed her. I took from her sons the best gift they had ever received – her being their mother – for absolutely nothing. It would mean I deprived them, I deprived this kid sitting in front me from growing with the perfect woman and mother Cate once was. So, of course, of course he would snap at me.

But I can't read him. It's yet another gift he got from Cate. And when he finally speaks, the world stops.

"Why didn't you stay with us ?"

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yes. i am terrible at naming chapters.
also i now have a studio in paris, a job in an escape game, my driver's licence, a place in a theatre school and gaga's concert in a week, which all sounds like i've got my shit together, but honestly what the fuck is wrong with me