chapter eleven

Oliver generally ignored awkwardness.

It was always lingering at the forefront of his mind, but he'd always pushed it down and left it as nothing more than a fuzzy feeling. His tactics had always worked--when he'd accidentally (or not so accidentally) talked shit about Joshua Weber while he was no more than a mere five feet away, when he'd liked his crush's year-old Instagram picture, when he'd walked in on....

Nevermind.

The point was, Oliver was a pro at handling awkward moments, mostly because he couldn't give a shit. He would just go along on his merry way, pretending as if nothing had happened. And, truth be told, it worked. It was almost like it caused a domino effect--the awkwardness would just dissipate into thin air.

So, when he sat at lunch with Holden, Nico, Celia, and Carson--and the awkwardness was not at all disappearing--Oliver had no idea how to handle it.

He drummed his fingers on the table absentmindedly. Carson, looking like he hadn't noticed he had said it, blurted out, "Do you play an instrument or something?"

Oliver froze. It was the first time they had spoken since being 'friends.'

Stupid fucking friends.

Oliver cleared his throat. "Not really," he lied, trying to keep his voice level, but it came out pinched.

Celia snorted. "Liar," she muttered, in between munching on her chips.

"I'm not lying," Oliver retorted, "I don't actually know what I'm doing half the time."

Celia smirked from next to him. "Wow. This is the first time I've ever heard you lie," she said.

"Who says it's the first time?" Oliver retorted boredly.

Celia ignored him and leaned over the table eagerly. "Oliver plays the guitar. He's pretty good." She turned to him. "Don't you play the piano too?" she asked.

"Knowing a chord or two doesn't mean I can play."

"Whatever," Celia said, "more than I could do."

Carson smiled, not surprised, more intrigued. "That's so cool! I played the violin for like, five years before I quit, but I wasn't any good." His eyebrows drew together. "I've always wanted to be good at playing an instrument."

Oliver tilted his head to the side. He could imagine it. Almost seventeen-year-old Carson, blonde head bent over a violin--a small, delicate, instrument coated in the color of deep umber; each of its crooks smooth and gleaming--a long bow in his head as he softly drew it across a string, producing a crisp, calming, adagio note. His hair would be spilling over his face, looking soft and silky. His face would be calm and passive and beautiful.

Like an angel.

"Why'd you quit?" Oliver asked, because this was something he didn't know, but wanted so badly to find more about.

Carson shrugged. "Between swimming and the violin--it was a lot of pressure, and I had to give up one. I was always a better swimmer, anyway. My parents agreed."

Oliver opened his mouth to speak, but Holden interrupted. "Speaking of your parents, are they holding that dinner this year?"

Carson rolled his eyes. It was extremely boyish. "Yeah, but I wasn't going to mention it. It's so stupid."

Holden smirked. "It's not stupid! I get to spend time with your sister-" he wiggled his eyebrows at that, "and your mom is a great cook. It's a total win for me."

Carson scrunched up his face. "Stay away from my sister."

"Wait," Celia interrupted, "what's this dinner?"

Carson huffed. "Every year my family hosts a dinner at our house for my friends. Juno's friends are always invited, but she always 'forgets' to tell them. It's been a yearly thing since like, fourth grade. Now, I can't get these guys to stop coming over." He nodded his head towards Holden and Nico.

"Two very pretty ladies in one very nice setting. I don't mind," Holden grinned.

Carson gagged. "Never talk about my family members like that again." A shiver went down his spine at the thought of that before he looked at Oliver in the eyes. It was a little unnerving and a little beautiful. "You guys are welcome to come."

"I-" Oliver started, but was interrupted.

"We'll be there," Celia answered for him.

***

The pool was his second home.

Carson loved it. He would always go when he was feeling just a little too much. Recently, there had been a lot of that. But, with the pool, it was just you and it. It didn't judge you. And Carson didn't feel like being judged, especially not now.

His heartbeat was a faint sound as the water and he became one fluid movement. There was a distinct soreness in his limbs, but it became almost like an echo--something that he could put aside for now. He felt adrenaline. It pounded through his veins, twining with his blood, giving him energy to push through the pain. He took a breath and put his face back into the water.

When he was younger, he had almost drowned, trying to see how long he could hold his breath. It wasn't very long, back then.

Drowned.

It seemed like only yesterday when Oliver had drowned. When Carson had saved him.

But, in fact, it had been a little over a month ago. To think--it had been a month ago since he had become friends with him, yet so much had happened.

Carson's breathing sped up. It took only one person to change your life. Oliver had walked in, acting like a seemingly innocent passerby--just a friend--and one kiss later, Carson was doubting what he thought he'd already known. It seemed like everything was sitting on his shoulders, a heavy weight pressed against the fragile column of his spine.

It was too much. He had to start searching for colleges--he'd decided to major in marine biology, though it was a last minute decision and doing impulsive things had always made him anxious--along with studying for the SATs, tests, schoolwork, swimming, clubs, his friends... and now Oliver. His entire life was chaotic, and it seemed like he'd never even had a moment to breathe. He didn't have time to himself. To read a good book, to listen to his favorite album, to just sit down and rest.

He had to start prioritizing things. He thought it would go something like this:

1. Schoolwork and studying.

2. Swimming.

3. Clubs and extracurricular responsibilities.

4. Friends (though he figured that Holden would be particularly sour about this.)

5. Himself?

Sure, it didn't seem completely healthy, but that's how it would have to be. He would always put himself last. As much as he wanted to, how could he give himself a moment when there was so much that he had to do? His checklist wouldn't minimize itself by him sitting down and doing nothing, pondering. He needed to take action.

He could figure this personal stuff--did he like guys? Did he not?--later. Maybe sitting in a college dorm, looking to the ceiling, on a day where he felt particularly terrible about his life, as all college students tend to do. He didn't have to worry about it now. There was no use. Other things were more important. They had to be.

He was so lost in his thoughts that his breathing sped up, and the movements that felt so natural to him in the water were momentarily lost. Water went up his nose, and, as a response, Carson automatically gasped, inhaling a bit more. His swimming ceased. Carson coughed and heaved. He couldn't breathe. He felt a hand snake around his waist, pulling him towards the wall and on top of the pool deck. He kept hacking, trying to get the last bits of water out of his system. When he did, Carson inhaled, filling his lungs up with fresh air.

"Are you okay?" Holden asked.

"I'm fine."

"Fuck, Carson," Holden said, eyes wide, "what the fuck was that?"

"I don't know," Carson gasped, "I guess I just lost focus."

Holden's eyes narrowed. "You're not a fucking amateur, Car. You know this, you can't just-"

"-'lose focus', I know. It was my bad, it won't happen again." He responded.

"It better not. There aren't any lifeguards for the swim team practices. If I hadn't come out here, you could've died."

"I wouldn't have died, Holden, you're exaggerating. It was a bit of water," he reasoned. "I know how to swim. Don't treat me like a stupid kid."

"Then stop doing stuff only stupid kids would do," Holden retorted. Carson let out one last broken cough. Holden's eyebrows creased with worry. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine."

---

A/N: I know, I know. This is shit, I am shit. Things are shit.

Now for my excuses. In my defense, this was the first actual week of school and I'm still adapting back. Plus, I've never written a story at the same time as school, so bear with me. It'll take some getting used to. This is also late at night, but I didn't think I would be able to finish this today at all. So yes, I know this chapter is unbearably bad and I really am sorry. I'll really try to make it up to you guys.

Switching to content, what do you guys think about Carson & the decisions he's making? Do you understand them? I feel a little bad for the poor guy, to be honest, there's so much pressure on him. Next chapter will be the dinner, and I anticipate lots of banter and awkwardness, but I haven't written it yet. Hopefully, it will be better than this trash :)

I'm exhausted. I'm constantly exhausted. Lowkey relating to Carson in the aspect that I feel like I barely get time to myself. That could be me being overdramatic though. Probably.

Anyways, I hope you guys at least appreciated that I updated? I haven't deviated from my schedule yet (honestly I'm surprised.) I know you didn't enjoy it because once again, this is bad, but if you want to pretend you did then that's cool! Thanks! Tell me all of your feelings, emotions, reactions to what happened! I'd love to know. Also, tell me what you'd maybe hope to see soon? I'd be really interested in that. Thanks for bearing with me guys, I really appreciate it.

Xoxo,

A Shadowhunter Wannabe,

herondaledevices <3