? She was his little piece of Heaven in his Hellish existence; but like everyone else in his life, she was taken from him as well. ?
?ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 2019
[AHS Season 8 Apocalypse AU]
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COCO COULD TELL HOW DISTRACTED Chanel was after the perimeter breach during breakfast. The ginger sat at the edge of the long couch, her eyes wide open as she stared at nothing in particular while the others voiced out their opinions about the newcomer of the Outpost. They all hoped that whoever the person was, that he/she was there to get them to salvation. But Chanel didn't care about that now. Her mind was throbbing as memories that she barely recognized flashed quickly in her head, like broken scenes from a movie. She couldn't piece them together nor recognize any of it. Her memories were confusing and jumbled, like it was being rewritten by an unknown force. She kept getting flashes of her "life" as Adelaine, the simple, non-luxurious days in which she worked as a simple employee of a local convenience store and lived in a crappy apartment with barely functioning furniture. Chanel couldn't imagine it. Since being adopted by the Vanderbilts, all she ever knew was the best – designer items from shoes, bags to clothes, etc. She could buy anything with her bank account and she never had to work hard for a new pair of expensive shoes. Even her trip to Italy was paid for by her ultra rich parents. Maybe they were right about her. Maybe she really was selfish.
"Chanel?" Coco caught her attention, pulling her back to reality as she blinked a couple of times, "Are you with us?"
The ginger straightened her back as she shifted in her seat, "Yeah, I am. What are you guys talking about?"
Gallant rolled his eyes as he leaned back in the couch, "We were talking about the last time we got laid. When was the last time you got laid, Chanel?"
Chanel blinked at the question. Flashes of the hot, humid night in Italy appeared in her mind. She was tipsy when she met a guy with familiar icy blue eyes and blond hair and they immediately hit it off. The ginger could still remember vividly how he thrusted into her, her back against the cheap sheets of a crappy Italian motel. His eyes and his hair reminded her of someone as she stared straight into it, her fingers gripping his blond locks as tight as she can. But his voice was different. It had a distinct Australian accent that she didn't really like. It wasn't the same from the man in her memory. Chanel felt like she knew this man for a long time, yet she cannot remember his face, or his name. All she knew was that he had blond hair that reminded her of gold and icy blue eyes that was the color of the sea and the sky combined.
