chapter nine

Warning: short kissing scene.

Oliver was hallucinating.

He had to be, right? He wasn't actually kissing Carson Katsaros.

No fucking way.

Carson froze and after some hesitation, started kissing him back. His lips were soft and warm. Their mouths moved together in a steady motion, working against each other fervently. Oliver's hand came to cup the other side of the boy's face, and Carson's hands trailed down to Oliver's waist, reassuring in their grasp around him. They were pressed tightly together, body warmth seeping into each other. Oliver was glad to feel Carson's heart pumping just as fiercely as his. The tips of Oliver's fingers tingled as they ran down Carson's side; he felt his body temperature rising. This was what he had always wanted to do. This was what felt right. The want pulsed through him like a second heart. Oliver nipped at Carson's bottom lip lightly, and Carson let out a quiet gasp. Oliver smiled into the kiss.

And then he remembered what was happening.

He shouldn't be doing this.

He broke away, panting hard. Carson was a little dazed, eyes closed and cheeks flushed; when reality snapped back into him, his eyes shot open, widening.

Carson's lips parted. "Woah," he murmured in shock.

Oliver cursed under his breath. "I- shit, I'm sorry, I-" Oliver broke off, stuttering. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks, to his palms, to his head. He was burning from the inside out, feeling himself crumble piece by piece. When the heat was beginning to get unbearable, he stood up and headed out. He was walking briskly, quickly, pushing through the crowd and to the door. When Oliver got there, crisp air infiltrated his deprived lungs like an icy spike, and anger buzzed through him. Anger at himself.

It shot through his veins, and Oliver clenched his fists, punching the brick wall. His chest rose and fell quickly as he then rested his forehead against the wall. His knuckles burned with pain, bruised and slightly bloody. Though his breathing began to slow down, his thoughts continued to race. Carson may have been the one who wanted to make a big mistake, but somehow, Oliver ended up being the one to do it.

In all three years that Oliver had known him, Carson had only dated girls. Emily Alfarsi, Anna Santos, Cassia Hamada, Eloise Patel. If Carson was gay, Oliver and the rest of the school would've already known. It was stupid and desperate--what he did. Carson caused him to be stupid and desperate, in the way that people in love typically were. He just saw him there, sparkling eyes looking up at him, and the need tugged at him. He was drawn to him. If he had just kept his distance, all of this--all of his feelings--could've been avoided. Maybe they would've even actually been friends.

But there was one thought that was most prevalent in Oliver's mind. It loomed in the forefront of his brain, taking over any space there was for anything else.

More than anything, all Oliver wanted to do was to kiss him again.

***

Carson was confused.

He was usually confused, but now it was amplified.

Carson had always been painfully straight. He admired girls on the beach, sometimes flirted with them at school, and took great joy in making out with them when the time was right. He wasn't a player by any means--that was always Holden--but most girls were kind. Pretty. Funny and talented. Why wouldn't he like girls?

He had never thought of a guy in the same way. The only guys he'd hung around with were friends that he had made in the fourth grade. They were rowdy, athletic, disgusting, and couldn't keep their thing in their pants. They were friends. That's how it'd always been.

But Oliver was none of those things.

He wasn't rowdy per se, but opinionated and sarcastic. He wasn't athletic, but seemed almost artistic, in a way that he himself would have definitely made fun of. To Carson's knowledge, he didn't sleep around and definitely wasn't disgusting. Instead, he was kind of cute.

Which made Carson kind of confused.

And Oliver had kissed him. Effortlessly. Thoughtlessly. Impulsively.

It wasn't like when Carson had given him CPR--he hadn't known him at all back then, and it was purely to save his life. He hadn't thought anything of it. There was a boy, dying, and Carson was a boy, capable. It was a no-brainer.

But now, it certainly wasn't a no-brainer. Oliver wasn't dying and Carson wasn't capable. Now, Oliver was a boy and Carson was a boy, and that was all there was to it. No worming their way out of it. Which was especially confusing, because as he had mentioned, Carson was painfully straight.

There was a part of him that wanted to lie to himself and say that it felt weird and unnatural. But, he knew that he secretly didn't mind it. It felt as if he was kissing a girl, except nicer. Softer. It left a warm feeling in his stomach, like one felt after drinking hot chocolate.

And Oliver. Was he gay? Did he like Carson?

Carson, still in the club, surrounded by chaos, dug his face into his hands.

Was this real?

Why now?

Why Oliver?

Why was he feeling like this, and more importantly, would it stop? Could it stop?

Carson wasn't sure if he wanted it to or not.

There was one thing he did know, however.

He knew he needed to find Oliver.

***

Oliver's phone was dying, but Google Maps was as trustworthy as ever.

His phone was blowing up with messages and calls from Carson, his parents and Celia. When he had left the club, he had decided that he had nothing else to do but walk to the hotel. Hopefully, he would be asleep by the time that everybody else would arrive and he wouldn't have to talk to Carson. That was what he had hoped.

That's not what happened.

Instead, he walked into his hotel room only to find six worried faces. Well, one worried face--Celia was calm, Holden was bored, and Nico was indifferent; his parents had just looked pissed off. But it was Carson's knee had been bouncing up and down repeatedly, his eyes continually flickering to his phone every five seconds. When he saw him enter the room, Carson jumped up.

"Oliver!" he said, half surprised. Oliver looked at him once before turning his eyes over the room.

His mom stood up too, anger prominent on the lines on her face. "Dominic! What the fuck--what the fuck have you been doing? First, you fucking crash a car, and then you sneak off to a fucking club even when I told you to stay put. Not to mention, you left all your friends behind when you decided to ditch! All of this shit has happened in one day Dominic. I have half a mind to throw you out of the fucking hotel room."

Oliver rolled his lip into his mouth. His mother had always had a tendency to curse when she was upset. And when she was happy. Well, she had a tendency to curse in general. "I'm sorry," he said blankly.

"Yeah, you've clearly shown it," his father spoke up. Oliver blinked. His father was always more strict, but he was quieter and kept to himself. He rarely talked, and when he did, it was to chastise Oliver for something or other. Oliver nodded tersely. His father looked away from him, and Oliver felt something in him deflate. "I think Marissa and I should go back to our room," his dad announced, "cool down--take a break from children."

Everybody nodded. Even though the only other person who really knew his parents was Celia, by spending a few minutes with her throughout the day, you could tell how intense they really were.

On his parent's way out, Oliver quietly blurted, "Can I sleep in your room? I know you're mad, and you can make me sleep in the closet or something, but it's just kind of crowded in here." He knew there was a large chance his mother would put him out on the street there and then, but he couldn't stay here, pretending everything was okay. Oliver avoided eye contact with everybody, especially Carson.

His mom reddened, but seeing something on her son's face, her eyes briefly turned to Carson, before returning to Oliver and nodding. Oliver let out a breath of relief. When he walked past Carson, the boy called out quietly for Oliver, but he pretended not to hear it and left the room.

He wasn't planning on dealing with this, especially not now.

---

A/N: Yep, that was a short update. But the purpose of this chapter was to give you insight into the minds of Oliver and Carson, and what they're feeling. They're both pretty conflicted. What do you guys think about this? Tell me all of your feelings, emotions, thoughts. I'd love to know! I'm straight, so I'm not sure if I wrote these feelings correctly, but if you have experience in this situation, then tell me what you think & if I wrote it accurately! I could use the feedback.

Also, it has come to my attention that we don't have a ship name for Oliver and Carson. Leave a comment here of a ship name, I wanna see what you guys have come up with.

Also, x2, if you didn't know, then I like to edit. It's mostly covers but since I've been working on this story, I'm not making any covers for any stories. But, I also like to make aesthetics. So, here are the Oliver and Carson aesthetics. Tell me what you think!

Feelings? Opinions? I quite like them, but tell me what you think!

It's night. I've put off this writing until night. Idk why-- it's my thing. There's nothing like writing in the middle of the night while listening to Troye Sivan's "Blue Neighborhood (Deluxe)" album (AKA my inspiration for this whole book) while it's also raining. It's a good feeling. I'm pretty peaceful.

Anywho, once again, tell me all of your thoughts on this chapter & I hope you enjoyed. Hopefully, I can have a new chapter up soon!

Xoxo,

A Shadowhunter Wannabe,

herondaledevices <3