Work Text:
Carlos knows the sound of his keys hitting the tray next to the door doesn’t actually echo louder than before, but it feels like it all the same. It has ever since before became after. It’s this dumb thing his brain does as soon as he enters the house, like cutting off one sense to magnify others: someone cutting themselves out of your life magnifies all the empty spaces they left. So, the house echoes like a gunshot every time the metal keyring hits the glass bowl and Carlos flinches every single time.
He can't really admit to himself, even after five months, that it’s probably because TK’s the one that picked out the damn bowl in the first place. Carlos wonders why he didn’t take it.
Then he stops himself from wondering because that way lies madness.
He shrugs off his jacket and goes to hang it in the hall closet, bracing himself as always. His knuckles brush against the soft fabric of a faded gray hoodie that was somehow missed in the meticulous journey TK had taken around the house in silence the day he left, duffle in hand. He hangs his own jacket up next to it, as always, and shuts the door. He feels his throat tighten a bit, but ignores it. It’ll go away eventually.
As always.
He makes his way to the kitchen to grab a beer--which is a new development, and one he still had a small mental war with himself over before he purchased the six pack at the 7-11 on the corner, wondering if it wasn’t a good idea before remembering, oh, there’s no one in his house he needs to look out for besides himself. He braces himself again and opens the refrigerator.
He reaches past the ketchup and leftover Thai food to the back right of the fridge, pausing to look at the shelf on the upper left for only a second before hastily snatching up a bottle of Shiner and shutting the door. They’re perfectly good mineral waters, and he’s sure he’ll probably drink them at some point, so why throw them away? Never mind that he’s never drank mineral water willingly in his life. The stuff tastes like La Croix if it was less flavored. But he keeps them just in case.
As always.
He plops himself on the couch, beer in hand, and reaches for the TV remote. He pointedly does not look at the corner of the rug under his feet, and tells himself it's because he’s mad it’s ruined. He knows that’s not true, but he’s lied to himself at least three times since he’s gotten home, what’s one more? He reminds himself that he’s mad the rug’s ruined, not sad because it’s the forever reminder of their first night in this house, when TK kiss-tackled him to his back on this very rug, causing Carlos to lose his grip on his slice of pizza and leaving a sauce stain on the otherwise pristine gray pile.
He flips through channels for a few minutes, passing up shows he used to like because he’s not really interested anymore. He’s not interested in that one procedural medical drama TK used to yell at the TV for (”It’s so unrealistic!”, “You can’t do that!”, “That’s literally against the law, oh my god”, “No one would ever intubate in that situation, what?!”), he’s not interested in the 70s sci-fi show they used to watch because they could laugh at the horrible special effects, and he’s definitely not interested in anything on HGTV, which they’d been practically glued to in the month or so before they bought this house just to get interior design ideas.
No, as always, he’s not interested in anything on TV.
He picks up his phone, scrolls through social media. This is relatively safe these days, as he’d unfollowed TK on practically everything, so he lets his guard down a little. It proves detrimental, however, when he scrolls past a post from Nancy on Insta that shows her, Marjan, TK, and Paul out at a restaurant, all raising up barbecue ribs at the camera. Carlos is genuinely surprised he notices anything else about the photo--including the other three people in it--since he’s absolutely glued to a pair of clear green eyes.
They look flat and lifeless, even in the low light and happiness of the photo, and it’s all Carlos can do to fumble for the button on the side of his phone to make the screen go black. He sighs to himself, and resigns to another night of going to bed too early for someone so young.
As always.
He goes through the motions of brushing his teeth (he guesses TK bought a new toothbrush because this one hasn’t moved from it’s spot in the cup on the counter), washing his face (he likes the smell of this stuff, okay? It doesn’t matter that it’s the one skincare thing Owen used that TK actually liked, so he bought himself one and apparently left it here. It’s almost empty anyway, and it’s expensive, so Carlos might as well use it up), and combing through his curls for tangles (he knows he has no excuse for not throwing out the dry shampoo as, much like the mineral water in the fridge, Carlos himself has never used the product in his life. He is also guilty of sometimes spraying just a small bit onto his pillow, just to bask in the smell of it and pretend. These things he does not admit to himself in the light of day).
He climbs into his large, empty bed and pulls up the covers, letting them settle over him lightly--no pull from a blanket hog on the other side of the bed. He rubs at his eyes because they ache from the day--not because he can feel the tell-tale tingle of emotion threatening to spill over behind them. He turns to his side and closes his eyes, willing sleep to come, and knowing it won’t for hours.
As always.
When he wakes it is to a bone-deep cold that has absolutely nothing to do with the weather outside.
As always.
He rises, dresses, and eats his breakfast while ignoring all the little things that threaten to pull him back into his mad thoughts. He cannot afford to be distracted on a day like today, he thinks, as he looks out the window at the snow beginning to fall.
He goes to work, keeps his head, and does his job well. He’s a machine these days sometimes, and he intermittently has to remind himself to pull his compassion back to the surface. But he does, and the day goes well, even considering the disaster at the church. He knows most of the people are alright, but he’d rather a professional take a look around at them, so he calls it in. He lets his guard down again.
Then all of a sudden he’s face to face with those beautiful green eyes, and he all but loses his tongue.
As always, since the first time he saw them.