That bittersweet memories.
Pairings: Henry Cavill as John Cooper x reader
Chapter one: Is that you?
That annoying sound of the alarm clock is awful. Whoever invented this thing should be fried in hell. I reach for my phone and when I see what time it is, I jump out of bed.
I have to be in the center in half an hour.
My mother called yesterday that she would like to have breakfast with me and most importantly she wants to told me something important.
She will definitely try to put me together with someone again.
The last time it was a guy she met at the supermarket and decided it would be a great match for me.
As if it could be someone who lives in his mother’s house in the basement with her three cats and a child from a previous relationship. Thanks mom.
I don't even know how I did it, but in fifteen minutes I'm sitting at a gas station in my old car, which carries a lot of memories and which I can't give up even after ten years.
Memories don't come that often anymore. But if they come, it still hurts.
Like now, when I'm listening to a song we danced to at our prom. He was wearing the awfully fitting suit he'd inherited from his older brother at the time, and I was wearing a dress that had a little blueberry stain on their hem. But even though we never had much, we had everything. If only there was no accident.
But knocking on the window pulls me out of my memory.
"Okey." I can hear a rough voice of the man, whose face i can barely see through the raindrops on window.
"Isn't true that everyone who listens to Bruno Mars in the rain in their car is getting a little depressed? I call that people a killers of optimism." He laughs as he refuels and walks forward to the windshield to wipe the water off.
"Do you want me to check your oil?"
That laughter, so terribly familiar. With my gaze facing the window and full of anticipation, I watch what face appears in a moment.
"No, thanks. I topped it up just yesterday."
“Did you refill the oil? If you still know how to cook, you are every man's dream. One day I— ” He stops when he sees my face and walks back again.
"I once worked in a car service in Tennessee, where I was born, and I swear every other woman didn't even know the oil should be checked."
"Are you from Tennessee?"
"Yes, ma'am, I'm Southern boy."
“Christopher William. I have a name after two idiots that my mother thought might be my father. ” He laughs nervously, and when he's done refueling, he walks over to my window and rests his hand on the roof.
"Will you pay in cash or by card?"
His palm keeps me out of sight, but my mind still doesn't deceive me. That laughter, sense of humor. That face.
“John? Who is John? Madam, I have to go back to work. ”
I pull the card out of my wallet and hand it to him through the window, and when he strides to the cash register, i get out of the car and quickly follow him.
"You know, you remind me of someone a lot. A boy. A man. Named John Cooper. He died in a car accident when he went to Mexico for a few days. Nine years ago.”
"Seriously? I'm sorry, ma'am. I've never been at Mexico. "
"You look like him." Now he has a beard and looks like someone who can tow a car with his bare hands, but otherwise he looks like John's copy.
"I don’t know what to say."
And that long gaze we exchanged was full of those strange emotions. I wish It was him so bad. But my mind is probably playing with me. But what if not?
"Here. Your bill and card. Have a nice day." He hands it to me and I can hardly take my eyes off him. And when I did, he walked away again.
"Chris, don't you have a scar on your arm?"
"Pardon?” He turned back to me with his eyes wide open.
"The man had a scar on his arm after he fought for me. During the fight, he broke the window of this car and the shard cut his arm.” I nod my head toward the car, but the look is still on his eyes. You are so familiar.
"I don't think I need to show you anything."
“I’m not leaving until you show me.” And even though he may think I'm crazy, I can't give up the last remnant of hope that came my way.
"Okay." He signs and take a look around. He rolls up his sleeve and shows me his arm. I just smile to myself. I pull my eyebrows more to my forehead and shake my head. "On the right one." I warn him that he showed me his left arm, and with another sigh, he rolls up his sweatshirt sleeve on his other arm.
He has a tattoo on it. "Satisfied?" He asks me with his annoyed voice.
"Not at all." I said with disappointment in my voice and with tears in my eyes I turn around and walk back to my car.
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