"So...you kissed me," Oliver exclaimed without thinking.
Carson choked out a laugh, and Oliver wanted to slam his own head against a wall. "It's called CPR, but, um, I guess, yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
Oliver was slowly suffocating on the tension. "Yeah so, thanks for kissing me I guess." He blurted out, immediately wanting to duct tape his mouth shut. Fuck. "I mean, t-thanks for saving my life." He corrected, pausing for a second before sputtering out, "That sounds really pathetic because I'm literally breathing because of you," And because you kissed me, "but I really don't know what else to say but 'thanks,' so um.... thanks?" Oliver looked anywhere except for Carson's beautiful eyes.
To his surprise, Carson let out a short laugh. "Don't worry about it. It's what any decent person would do--I couldn't let you just drown."
Clearly, Oliver was not a decent person.
The room was basked in silence, and the only sound that prevailed was the rustling of the hospital outside the room and the cicadas buzzing outside. Oliver bit his lip, running through the thoughts in his head and deeming them all ridiculous and inappropriate. With the way he was acting, he had no idea how he had managed to stay in the closet for this long.
Once the silence became too much, Oliver spoke up. "It's a nice day outside, isn't it?" he said tentatively, awkwardly.
"It's nighttime." Carson tilted his head to the side, studying Oliver before finally saying, "Are you nervous?"
Oliver let out a scoff, but it sounded breathy and anxious to even his own ears. "No. Why would I be nervous?"
Carson shrugged, his eyes drifting to the curtains. "You just seem anxious, that's all." His eyes then snapped to meet Oliver's, and Oliver held his breath. "Which is weird, in my opinion, because I've seen you talk to other people--that girl, for instance--and you seem fine. You seem more than fine actually, you practically dominate the conversation with your..." Carson trailed off, waving his hands in the air. "....with your you-ness. The whole 'calm and detached' thing you've got going on."
"Are you stalking me?" Oliver muttered under his breath all of a sudden, not meaning it to be heard.
Carson laughed loudly. "Stalking you? No. I mean you saw me out there." He gestured to the door. "I didn't even know your last name. No, I wasn't stalking you." He pursed his lips. "It's just--well, everyone on the swim team was talking about you after you got wheeled away. They didn't say much, just how-"
"-much of an asshole I am?" Oliver offered weakly. "You have to admit, people are surprisingly accurate with their descriptions."
Carson's gaze softened as he leaned in, bracing his elbows on his thighs. "You're not an asshole," he said gently.
Oliver scoffed and found the floor to be more interesting than looking up. "I am an asshole, just not to you."
Carson tilted his head to the side. "Why?" he asked.
Oliver froze. He had said too much, hadn't he? Fucking hell, he always says too much. He's too blunt and too willing and never keeps his fucking mouth shut. "There's no reason to hate you," he said--it was the truth, just not the full one. "You just don't piss me off. Good thing too, I've reached my status quo of idiots for the day."
Carson smiled, showing no teeth but instead showcasing his dimples. Why can't there be anything wrong with him? Oliver thought. Why did he have to be so perfect?
"Thanks," Carson said.
More silence ensued, but this time, Carson broke it. "So, did anyone visit?" he asked.
"Just my parents, but they had to since they raised me, and everything. And Celia--the girl--but that was more to relieve herself of her guilt than to see me." Oliver explained.
"Guilt?"
"Don't worry about it."
Carson waited patiently for Oliver to continue his list of people who had visited him, but when he didn't speak, Carson frowned. He sat back in his chair and played with a silver ring on his right middle finger. He opened his mouth to say something but then shut it. After a moment's hesitation, he blurted out, "Do you like bonfires?"
"Bonfires?" Oliver asked.
"Yeah. Bonfires. You know--the beach, a fire, roasting marshmallows with some friends. Bonfires. Do you like them?"
No, not really, Oliver thought. He'd never been to one, but he didn't like beaches, and he didn't like most people, either. "Yeah, I guess," he said instead. "But it's the middle of September."
"Well, my friends and I host a bonfire at the beach every year as a 'back to school' sort of thing, but this year, the weather changed pretty quickly and it hasn't been warm enough to stay outside. Tomorrow night is supposed to be nice, though. D-do you... maybe..." Carson bit his lip, and Oliver's eyes zoned in on the movement. "Do you want to come?"
"I actually couldn't think of anything worse than hanging out with your friends," Oliver said, but instead, it came out like, "Sure."
Carson beamed. "Great!" He reached out and softly grabbed Oliver's hand, looking around the room for a pen. Meanwhile, Oliver was going into cardiac arrest. His palms began to sweat and his knee bounced up and down nervously. He tried to think about anything besides the fact that here was annoyingly straight Carson Katsaros, holding annoyingly gay Oliver Laurent's hand. The whole thing was fucking infuriating. Oliver could do nothing but watch--he couldn't grab his hand, or smile like he was enjoying himself--not many people knew that he enjoyed himself, and it certainly couldn't be Carson himself to find out.
Once Carson had found a pen, he turned back to Oliver's hand and scribbled numbers across the back of it. His handwriting was boyish and clumped together. "Sorry, I forgot my phone at home--I was kind of in a hurry--but this is my number. Text me your address whenever and I'll come to pick you up. Holden and Nico will probably come along too," Carson looked up at Oliver and his eyes were green and brown and gold all at the same time. "if that's okay with you?"
Oliver blinked and returned back to his reality. He paused for a minute, trying to remember what Carson had said and hastily murmured out, "Sure," without even knowing what he was agreeing too.
***
Carson had felt bad that Oliver didn't have many friends, and he had so many. He definitely didn't deserve it all--not when he had lived a perfectly average life, and there was Oliver Laurent, who had almost died.
Sometimes, Carson waited for something to go wrong, patiently, because he had always known that people go through hardships every day, and yet, nothing bad had happened to him. He used to trick himself into thinking that it would stay that way, but Carson knew better than that. Sure, he was sad and lonely sometimes, but wasn't everybody sad and lonely sometimes? Carson didn't think that constituted as a bad enough. People go through worse, and he didn't want to seem ungrateful.
Carson didn't know what had happened in Oliver's life, but not having friends wasn't something that he could tolerate--not when he had hoards of them (well, now that he thought about it, what classified as a friend? A person you only talk to because they're in your class, or your team? A person who you don't interact with outside of school? Carson knew this was a fairly elementary concept, but he still hadn't gotten the hang of it.) He knew what it felt like to be lonely, and he didn't want anyone else to feel that. It was the least he could do--invite Oliver to the bonfire--though as soon as he had done it, Carson had panicked.
What if he has a miserable time, and it's all Carson's fault? What if nobody talks to him when they go back to school? What if Carson makes the problem worse instead of better?
He knew he was being ridiculous--over thinking, as he often did--but he couldn't help it. In order to calm his feuding mind, he made a decision--right there, right then. He would be the best friend that Oliver could ever have, and he definitely wouldn't let him be lonely.
***
Oliver had no fucking idea where his courage had come from, but he all of a sudden wanted it to go away.
He had been released from the hospital an hour after Carson had left, and on the way home, he'd made a split second decision that he was too tired to think through. He had texted him. Carson fucking Katsaros. He had given him his address, and after a day, here Oliver was now, shifting unconsciously every five seconds, waiting for him to show up. Sickening nausea lingered in his stomach like poison or a bad sandwich, and Oliver wanted to throw up.
He also wanted to die, but that had seemed like a common occurrence when it came to situations like these.
His foot tapped along to a melody that had found its way into his head, and Oliver knew that he had to remember it so he could play it on the guitar later. He found a random scrap of paper and began jotting down notes, humming them softly to himself as he went along. He was in the middle of drawing a quarter rest when there was a firm knock on the door. The calmness that the musical notes had given Oliver had faded instantly, replaced by a jolt of panic.
He flinched and stood up, smoothing his shirt down. He walked to the entrance and turned the knob, opening the door to what could possibly be the worst night of his life.
---
A/N: I know haha, shorter chapter. This was more of a filler chapter but there was cute stuff (at least I hope you found it cute.) I do plan on making the next chapter be longer. What were your opinions? Hope you enjoyed it! Chapter coming soon!
Xoxo,
A Shadowhunter Wannabe,
herondaledevices <3