chapter ten

Oliver wasn't driving.

Which was a good thing, too, because Oliver was feeling more anxious than ever. Everybody was squished into a car that was way too small to fit them in, and Oliver had practically begged his dad to sit in the back seat while he sat up front with his mom. She was still pissed at him, glaring at his father when he relented to his son's request. Oliver was a little surprised that his dad had done it instead of ignoring him or something, but he figured that he had sensed that there was something--or someone--Oliver was trying to hide from. He couldn't be any more right. He was stuck inside of a tiny area, mere centimeters from Carson. Just the thought of it caused Oliver's throat to close up, as if he were having an allergic reaction to physical closeness.

Carson eagerly kept trying to catch Oliver's eye in the rearview mirror, but he shifted his gaze every time. The truth was plain and simple. Loving Carson had made him weak. He had never even dreamed of having a chance with him, but foolishly, he had done something; he had kissed him. Even if Carson didn't actually hate Oliver like he'd thought, Carson was straight. And even if Oliver had miraculously turned him gay--which was a long stretch because after all, Oliver was Oliver--then it wasn't like Oliver could just be in a relationship with him.

He'd never been in a relationship before. He repelled people--not like he'd minded--but most boys and girls usually just stood out of his way. It made sense. He wasn't friendly and most people dodged away from his grumpiness. They were completely different, Carson and him. How long could that last? They weren't positive and negative charges, they were people. Besides, even in some alternate universe where Oliver wasn't an asshole, and he was the perfect picture of manners and grace; how would Oliver even go about a relationship? What did you do in a relationship? Whatever you did, Oliver was sure that he'd do it wrong.

He always did something wrong.

Oliver snapped out of his reverie. His mind was wandering too far. Those were too many what ifs to even fathom--too many possibilities, and Oliver hated possibilities like he hated colds. They made him nervous and fidgety; they required too much thought and too much reality and it was just too much.

Oliver wondered what he would do with all the newly acquired time he had, now that he was planning on avoiding Carson like the plague. Perhaps he could study for his SATs, which were fast approaching. Oliver hadn't even begun to study, but he was always better at studying under pressure, though all of his teachers would scold him for it until he reached the depths of hell.

Hell. It seemed like a great place for someone like him. Not because he was gay, just because he was an asshole.

Oliver's eyes quickly flashed to the rearview mirror, just to see if Carson was still looking. He was.

Oliver looked away.

***

Oliver was ignoring him, and it was driving Carson crazy.

He never liked people being mad at him. He was a secret--or a not-so-secret--softie, and when people hated him, it was like something was tearing at him from the inside, scratching at skin and bone and organ until it made its way out and tore him in half.

Carson caught himself admiring Oliver's side profile more than once, and it was then that he realized that it wasn't the first time he had done this before. He had done it on multiple occasions, when the peaceful silence blanketed them and there was nothing else to do but look and feel. He had always done it mindlessly, but now, things were anything but mindless.

Oliver was quite handsome.

His skin was smooth and rich and dark all at the same time. His hair was like ink and spilled over his face in springy, tight curls. Carson sometimes felt the itch to push it back out of his face and see if it was as soft as it looked; to wrap a curl around his finger and watch it retract. His fingers were long and thin--musician's hands, though Carson didn't know if he played any instruments--and the calluses on his palms looked rough and hardened. And his eyes. If Oliver looked like night, then his eyes were stars. They were a dark blue, a pure cobalt. It was a cheesy thought, and Carson chastised himself slightly.

But it was no question as to why Carson was looking at him secretly, because there was so much to look at.

Carson wondered if you could become bisexual overnight, and then dismissed the thought immediately. That couldn't happen. Someone couldn't just develop feelings in twenty-four hours, especially for an entire gender. Could they? No. No, Carson was straight. He was straight and Oliver had just kissed him, which confused Carson into thinking that he liked boys. That was what happened. There was no other explanation. If he was bi, he would've known.

Right?

Carson sighed. He was beginning to get desperate. So desperate, in fact, that he was about to do something that he didn't think he would ever do.

"Holden," Carson began, "I need you to kiss me."

Holden choked on his water. "What?"

"It'll be really quick, I promise."

"Carson, are you insane?"

"Not insane," he replied, "just confused. Please, dude."

"Confused? What're you talking about?"

Carson chewed on his lip. "Oliver kissed me," he admitted.

"What?" Holden blurted. His face paled.

"Yeah, and, long story short, I need to know if I like guys."

Holden spluttered. "Wha-I-look. That was a lot of information to throw at me all at once, and frankly, I don't really know what to do about it."

"You could kiss me."

"Dude!"

"Relax," Carson said, "I don't like you. I don't even want to kiss you, to be honest-"

"Rude. I'm so kissable, the fuck do you mean?"

"-but I need you to do this for me. As a friend. Please?"

Holden's nose scrunched up, disgust apparent on his face. "Does this count as cheating on Claire?"

"I think for cheating to be qualified as cheating, it has to be something you're into," Carson responded.

"Ugh," Holden said, "alright fine. But three seconds, max, you hear me?"

Carson raised his hands up in defense. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Holden scoffed, moving closer to Carson awkwardly. His face was still twisted up, making it quite clear to Carson that this was the last thing on earth that he would want to do. Carson wasn't sure to feel hurt by it or not.

"Oh God, I swear if someone walks into the locker rooms now," Holden threatened, but didn't finish his sentence.

The two friends moved closer to one another, slowly, dreading the moment. When they were close enough, Holden's lips pressed together, trying to hold in a laugh. Before he lost his nerve, Carson swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, before he lent in and quickly pressed his lips to Holden's.

One.

Oh God this is so weird, Carson thought.

Two.

Okay I can't do this.

Three.

Carson pulled back, gagging. Holden stuck his tongue out as if he had tasted something gross.

"That was--hugh--so bad, wow," Holden exclaimed. Carson nodded, agreeing.

Maybe his best friend wasn't the best person to test his sexuality on.

***

It was swim season, which made it increasingly harder for Oliver to avoid Carson.

He was fantastic at what he did, in the way that Beethoven was great at what he did, and the whole school knew it. His name, as usual, was on everybody's lips. It buzzed through the school with an unsettling amount of energy, an unyielding vitality. Usually, Oliver would've loved it.

He would've loved it if he wasn't trying so hard to get over him.

And he was trying. So hard. He would avoid eye contact and sit on the opposite side of the classroom as him. He stopped sitting with Carson's friends during lunch as he did before, and instead just sat in the music room. He wasn't allowed in there, but Celia had once taught him to pick locks--a skill that he'd put to good use. When anyone would mention Carson, Oliver reminded himself to keep his emotions in check--no more starry-eyed gazes. Once, Celia had accidentally let his name slip--she knew something had happened, but not what, and Oliver had decided to momentarily forgive her for nearly killing him, since it appeared as though he needed a friend--and her eyes had immediately darted to Oliver, whose fingers twitched momentarily but didn't otherwise move.

In a way, Oliver made sure that it almost seemed like Carson hadn't existed.

He knew he was being overdramatic and childish, but he couldn't help it. They weren't together and hadn't broken up, but he knew that he couldn't face him. One look at Carson and his resolve would shatter, and they'd be back to square one. Back with Oliver being detrimentally in love with him, and Carson being none the wiser. He couldn't take it. He couldn't take his heart stuttering with only a glance, a lump forming in his throat when he tried to speak, his mind turning blank and busy all at the same time. It was maddening.

Oliver considered how nice Carson must've felt, without that sort of weight on his back. It was easy for him. Carson would never love Oliver how Oliver loved Carson. He wouldn't ever have to deal with the stress of an unrequited crush. The thought almost made Oliver laugh out loud. Like anyone couldn't like Carson. He was so, infuriatingly, likable. Oliver would never be like him, and he wanted to hate him for that, but knew he couldn't.

No matter what Oliver Laurent did, his heart would always belong to Carson Katsaros.

Trying to detox from him was like experiencing withdrawal when you were addicted. It was especially hard now. They hadn't been strangers--in fact, it was safe to say that they were friends. Well, they were before Oliver screwed it up.

And now, Oliver was doing his best to avoid the talk of Carson while walking through the halls. He honestly had tried to stay away.

But, it seemed like Oliver and Carson were linked together for life; they always returned to each other.

Because, in an instant, almost like the blink of an eye, Carson was cornering Oliver into a wall of lockers. It would have been intimidating, but Carson couldn't be intimidating even if he tried. The bell was about to ring, and Oliver should've moved, but as soon as his eyes caught Carson's for the first time in almost two weeks, he was a goner.

Carson frowned. "You've been avoiding me."

"Clearly," Oliver bluntly stated. Carson's eyes widened. Oliver knew he could be mean, it was a talent of his. It was a defense, if Oliver was being honest, because nothing repels people more than a bad attitude.

Well, most people.

"Why?" Carson asked softly.

Oliver snorted. "You know why."

"So what?"

Oliver raised an eyebrow, almost lazily. "I kissed you."

"So what?" Carson repeated.

Oliver's voice rose a little. "You're not the tiniest bit concerned?"

"Do I have a reason to be?"

"Of course you do. I'm gay and I kissed you and you're straight." Oliver blurted out, exasperated.

"Why do you assume that?"

"Assume what? That I'm gay? Because-"

"No, Olly," Carson countered, and he sounded a bit amused, "why do you assume that I'm straight?"

Oliver froze. His muscles tensed, as if the connection from his brain to the rest of his body short-circuited. "B-because you are?" he stuttered, but he sounded less sure now.

Carson shrugged. "I don't really know, but that's not what matters."

Oliver blinked. He blinked again. "Excuse me?" he said, not because he was being rude, but because he really wasn't sure if he heard clearly.

Carson sighed, and now he was the one who sounded exasperated. "It doesn't matter if I'm straight or not, what matters is our friendship."

Friendship. Oliver's heart deflated a little. Great. Now, Carson might very well be a little gay, and he still didn't like Oliver. He should've seen it coming. A person like him didn't like a person like Oliver. Friendship was all it would ever reach.

"What?" Oliver asked, simply because he didn't know what else to say.

Carson pursed his lips. Oliver tried not to look at him. "Well, admittedly, we don't know each other that well, but I've gotten used to having you by my side. I like you, Oliver," Oliver's heart swelled a little, "and I think that we could be really good friends." It shattered again. "I'm not letting you get away that easily, Laurent." Carson smiled at him, a white flash, and winked. Oliver's heart flipped a little through its scattered remains. Oliver wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. His heart could only go through so much.

But Oliver was weak. So he gave Carson a small smile, and said, "Yeah. Friends. Of course."

---

A/N: POOR OLIVER OMFG. I feel so bad for my child. I really am evil. Whoops.

I actually am quite happy with how this chapter comes out. In case you didn't know, then my writing has two stages of description. One is the really poetic description, and the other is the really shitty description. So I'm pleasantly surprised with how this chapter went. It might be because I wrote this at like, midnight with the cicadas buzzing and it was really peaceful. I usually procrastinate writing until night anyway, because it's quiet and everyone is asleep and I can listen to my music. Idek.

What did you guys think of this chapter? I hope you enjoyed it, even though it isn't very happy. But they're on good terms now, so that's a good thing, right? Tell me all of your emotions, feelings, advice, etc. I'd love to hear it!

Xoxo,

A Shadowhunter Wannabe,

herondaledevices <3