Waiting in Moments
Chapter: 2. After Seven Days Come Baby Steps
Summary:
Cappie/Casey post season 2 finale.
"We do not remember days, we remember moments" - Cesare Pavese
A collection of moments in the aftermath of the finale.
"If something anticipated arrives too late it finds us numb, wrung out from waiting, and we feel - nothing at all. The best things arrive on time". – Dorothy Gilman
There is something ridiculous and ironic that the big monumental moments in her life have been reduced to stepping outside of the sorority doors to grab a coffee.
She realizes that this monumental event is the most mundane, routine and unexciting activity possible to any other student at CRU, hell, last week she would have said getting coffee was a boring necessity. But today, this moment, as her shaky legs draw her toward the coffee cart; this is a big moment for her.
This is monumental, this is the first time she has left the house since the incident that shall not be named.
Part of her feels ashamed to the point that she is paranoid that every gaze she tries to avoid knows about IT and is judging her for hiding in her room for a week. Seven days of solitude has turned her into whisper of her confidant self, avoiding phone calls, hiding from Ashleigh and Rusty, hiding from him... mentally she is now a social pariah and she twists her surroundings inside, what if they are avoiding her and not the other way around?
Naturally this inner battle goes unnoticed, on the outside she is another tired student making the walk from A to B, an army of hungry students around her making the trek toward the coffee cart – a boring necessity.
One soldier notices the emptiness in her eyes; she fights a wince when he brushes her shoulder. Physical human contact right now felt so foreign, so wrong.
Of course he misinterprets emptiness for exhaustion and she feels the shadow of a grateful smile hover momentarily on her lips.
He smiles a knowing smile.
"Late night?"
It takes her a minute to realize that she hasn't really spoken in a week, and when she does it feels like there are cotton balls in every corner of her mouth. Old Casey should really beat this New Casey to a pulp.
" Uh, yeah...really late night, didn't sleep at all"
Technically she wasn't lying, she doesn't sleep anymore, in sleep she can't control her thoughts and she knows she would dream about IT about Him if she gave her subconscious the chance.
"You headed to the coffee cart?"
"Yup"
Short and sweet, she needs to keep her answers to a minimum because the more she talks the more her tone, her words would give her away until she might as well be carrying a " Still In Love With My Ex Even Though He Rejected Me" sign over her head for the world to see and pity her.
Nameless boy nudges her again. Inside she shudders.
He is smiling, a genuine open mouthed smile that knocks the wind out of her because she can't remember the last time her smile was that honest and open, or if it ever will be again.
"Well come with me then, I'm an expert at getting through crowds, I'll have you at the cart in no time cause you seriously look like you could use an IV drip of caffeine"
She is numb as she takes his proffered hand and is pulled at an alarmingly quick pace through the crowd of students. She is numb until they arrive, a little short of breath at the monumental destination, and then she pulls her hand out of his quickly because it feels so wrong. Mentally she berates herself over feeling like this; the boy was just trying to help and she is now over analyzing every minute form of contact so she has something to self flagellate with.
Nameless boy with overly friendly hands either doesn't notice or pretends not to notice that he is dealing with a girl made from stone and smiles that annoyingly true smile.
" I'm Eric, by the way"
She looks up at him and knows that five minutes from now she won't be able to remember his face. She is stone girl, she is unfeeling, and she is only here to embark on a monumental coffee excursion.
"Casey"
The man behind the cart offers a welcome interruption by demanding if they were going to order anytime this century. Small talk is hard when you are made of stone, and don't want to deepen the cracks.
Eric laughs.
"I'll have an Americano and Casey here is going to have a...."
" I'll have a Cappi-" she clears her throat and does not think about the implications of her almost slip.
"I'll have an Americano as well"
Once the coffees have been served she makes herself busy by doctoring it with milk.
And then she sees him. He is a red and brown blur out of the corner of her eye, he is a red and brown blur and that whisper of his existence shatters her stone exterior. Her heard pounds, her hands shake, she spills her milk. She mops it up furiously, tears of humiliation threatening to fall. Please don't let him see her; please don't let him see her. She takes a deep breath and turns until she can no longer see him, out of sight, out of mind – forget the fact his face is burned into her eyelids. Another breath and she focuses on herself, on her surroundings, on her monumental event. Nameless boy Eric stands to the side and she realizes that he has been talking to her this whole time.
"Wow, Casey you really are tired"
She forces a smile and she knows it looks bitchy and she knows she can do nothing to change it. She wonders if he is looking, she wonders if he thinks she is flirting right now, she does not wonder if he is jealous, instead she wonders if he will take this as another negative sign; she wonders and she panics.
As if finally sensing that something is off with the sad tired stone girl, Eric sticks his hands in his pockets and starts to retreat.
"Well I better get to class"
Right, school, classes...She hasn't been to class in a week, she wonders if he has either.
Eric is waiting for something from her so she raises her hand awkwardly.
"Thanks for the coffee"
Inside she cringes, New Casey is so caught up with whether or not he is looking that basic social interaction skills seem to be nonexistent.
Eric with the soon to be forgotten face grins and shakes her hand. Is he looking? Does he think she's moved on?
"No problem, see you around Casey"
And she finds herself too exhausted to wrench a reply from herself so instead she nods frantically and smiles until the boy has waved and walked the other way.
She realizes she is shaking violently, the coffee in her cup threatening to spill over. he goes through the motions of putting on a plastic lid and cardboard sleeve and finds herself to weak not to look so she glances out of the corner of her eye.
He is watching her.
The blurry figure in her peripheral vision is sitting upright, and his face is unmoving in her direction.
He is watching her.
She nearly spills her coffee again. This is too much too soon. Today was supposed to be about rehabilitation, baby steps to merge this shaking wreck of New Casey with her confidant former self.
She didn't want strangers offering her coffee; she didn't want small talk and giving out names. But mostly she didn't want him here, seeing her like this, seeing her without her confidant curtain to hide her exhausted, shattered interior. She didn't want him to see what she had become.
He is watching her.
She is taking deep breaths and looking the other way.
She walks slowly, head held high, shaking hands where he can't see them.
She can feel the heat of his gaze on her back. Like the wicked witch, she is melting, melting. And part of her wishes she were just an invisible puddle on the ground, her insides certainly feel like she is.
Like a walking target she feels his eyes follow her and she works hard on not wondering what he is thinking.
He is watching her, and she is trying hard not to wonder why.
Baby steps, she walks away from the cart, away from him. Baby steps.
Once she turns the corner, she checks behind her.
He has not followed, he cannot see her now.
Nothing helps. No distance, no stone exterior, no rehabilitation can ease the sting of the burn; he is haunting her.
She drops her coffee and breaks into a run.
She will not leave the house again for another three days.
Baby steps.
I have a very inconsistant style of writing, which is why I choose to write in oneshot, or in this case, " moments" as I tend to differ from story to story or moment to moment.
Please review, its very saddening to put somthing out there and get no response.