February passed like a dream.
After all the anxiety of so many people suddenly knowing Damien's secret writing had worn off, he found himself suddenly an overnight celebrity in his school because of it. Suddenly, everyone knew who he was, and more and more students were coming up to him, in the halls, in the Dining Hall, during class, all to tell him how much they adored his work, or otherwise to ask for his signature. More than a few of them, by their own admission, had never even heard of fanfic before, and the vast majority of his new fans were girls, with the rare notable exceptions. Then there was the even more rare, yet still surprising amount of teachers who had pulled him aside after class to speak with him about his writing. He had suspected his English teacher who commended him on his impeccable use of language and theme, and even his art teacher who had always been a touch free-spirited. It seemed that no one was immune to the thrills of seeing Adam and Claudius go at it in a myriad of different ways.
To Damien's dismay, however, with the joys of fame, came the inevitable crash of hate from a few, blessedly anonymous prats who apparently didn't enjoy a bit of fun.
The most surprising of all of his newfound fans had come in early March when just after class, Mrs. Craft had pulled him aside quite unexpectedly and asked to speak with him.
Damien swallowed, wondering what he possibly could have done wrong. Mrs. Craft had never asked to see him after class, and the thought of it now made him unbelievably anxious. Carrie and Oliver had attempted to stay behind, before Mrs. Craft had glared them into submission and the two had left the classroom, letting the door close behind them.
Once everyone had left, Mrs. Craft turned towards Damien. "You know, I recognized myself in one of your stories," she said. Whatever Damien had been expecting, that had not been it. "I never realized you students saw me as such a tyrant," she sighed, turning towards the whiteboard, quietly erasing their work from the day. "I suppose I haven't always been the nicest to any of you." Damien frowned, though he didn't dare say a word. "You know, I actually found your work almost a year ago. Of course, I didn't know it was you. But-- I found myself drawn to these stories. Mr. Craft was sick you see, he has been for a few years now, and something about your stories gave me hope somehow. I felt love again, I felt passion and promise and entertainment. Anyway, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like I disliked you in some way. And I also wanted to say thank you. Because your stories really touched me when I desperately needed them most."
Damien smiled despite himself, whatever else he could say about Mrs. Craft, her response to his writing had truly been incredibly touching. He had always hoped his work would help people the way it had for her and knowing that even someone like Mrs. Craft could be so helped by his words made him feel almost euphoric. "I'm glad to hear it," he said, and with that, he left her classroom feeling more surprised than he had in a very long time.
Carrie and Oliver were stood outside the classroom, both waiting for him. "What happened?" Carrie asked first, as Damien made his way down the hall. He smirked a little to himself, quite certain they wouldn't believe it if he told them.
"She just said I need to do better on my pop quizzes," he lied. In the end, it wasn't really his story to tell, and whatever else he and Mrs. Craft had been through, he decided he would not betray her trust in that way. She had confided something personal with him. Carrie and Oliver shared a look, clearly disbelieving Oliver merely shrugged.
The rest of March passed rather quickly, and before he knew it, spring break had arrived and with it, the promise of the Great Spring Gala.
It was an annual Carmichael tradition, which unlike the Winter Ball, was not traded between the Five. Though the other families had offered on more than one occasion to take it over for a year. Mrs. Carmichael wouldn't hear of it. She was nothing if not proud, particularly when it came to her party planning skills and she wasn't about to give up a party if she didn't have to.
Like the Winter Ball, the Great Spring Gala required months of preparation-- though in this case, the Great Spring Gala (formerly the Great Easter Gala) was more of a charity fundraiser type of event, which included a silent auction and on several occasions a carnival in the Carmichael's garden.
This year's charity theme was to be the LGBT community in honor of Damien's coming out. His mother had been texting him for several weeks now trying to get his opinion on various queer charities to add to her list. As a general rule, the Carmichael's liked to split the proceeds from the Great Spring Gala between a few charities, an aspect for which Damien was not usually included, and honestly, all of these questions were beginning to do his head in. It wasn't as though they hadn't raised money for LGBT organizations before. He had even argued as much to his mother during one particularly fierce round of texts. It was clear his mother had hoped for more, but Damien didn't have it, and so he had simply opted to ignore her instead. A terrible idea, he knew.
April was fast approaching, and Damien wasn't entirely sure he was ready to go back to the Manor after all. He had rather been enjoying the last few months at Westlake, what with his star on the rise. The more he wrote the greater interest he drew, and so he kept going, writing as much as he possibly could, splitting his time between fanfiction and the novel he had been working on since the Winter Holidays.
*
Damien didn't want to get up, it was the morning of the drive back to Carmichael Manor and he was feeling particularly apathetic. He had taken to sleeping in Oliver's bed with him almost exclusively and it had made him particularly clingy. Worse, it had led to more than one occasion in which he had nearly been late to class, due to his inability to willingly tear himself away from Oliver. Not that Oliver seemed all that upset about it. He never tried particularly hard to prize Damien off of himself, or otherwise make him get up and be productive. If anything Oliver was all too happy to enable Damien's clinginess, and the two had to hope that one of them would eventually decide that they needed to get to class before it was too late. Or otherwise, that Carrie might come rescue them from themselves. For the sake of his educational well being Damien had tried to force himself to stay in his own bed for the last few weeks. Though given the fact that he knew they would be leaving in the morning for the Manor, he had decided that it couldn't hurt to sneak into Oliver's bed.
This particular visit was considerably shorter, just under two weeks, and he wouldn't need to pack much as the majority of his spring wardrobe was already kept at the Manor. Given that Spring break was just the precursor to Prom which would come less than a month after their return, and that following prom the students would be free to return home until their graduation in June, the vast majority of seniors tended to use spring break as the start to the long and arduous process of bringing home all of their belongings that they had taken with them for the year.
"Come on honey, time to get ready to go," Oliver said in the sweetest voice he could manage. He had given Damien an additional twenty minutes of sleep At this rate they were going to end up leaving at noon and getting caught in all that traffic. Oliver chuckled to himself, it seemed he understood Mr. Carmichael's position after all. Damien sighed, sitting up, "Can't we just stay here?" he whined. Oliver stared at him, something told him that Damien had never missed a spring break before in his life, and Mrs. Carmichael would never forgive him if Damien made this his first year to do so.
"Come on sleepyhead," Oliver said with a grin. "Your mother started texting me almost an hour ago trying to get an estimate on when we'd be in."
Damien groaned, and stretched, he might have expected as much. It was, after all, very much on-brand for his mother. Dragging himself out of bed, Damien pulled on a change of clothes and slipped into his trainers. It was remarkable how quickly the two had changed places. With some amount of effort, Damien leaned down and grabbed his backpack, about the only thing he kept at the ready at all times and hoisted it onto his shoulder.
"So what exactly does a Great Spring Gala entail?" Oliver asked as they made their way down the stairs and towards the car. This time, Oliver had decided to drive, a fact for which Damien looked immensely grateful.
"It's like a ball but more... extensive," Damien replied with a yawn. Oliver eyed him as if expecting him to clarify, but it was clear Damien was still only half awake. "It's a charitable thing."
"And the Winter Ball isn't?" Oliver asked.
"I mean, my parents tend to donate money to charities during the holidays yes, and presents and food but the ball itself is just an occasion for the Five to show off. The Gala is... an event. The press comes, the mayor comes, governors, senators, Presidential hopefuls, mother really made the gala into a whole thing. There's a lilac carpet, I mean it's almost always bigger than the Winter Ball," he chuckled. "The other members of the Five wish they could have the Gala."
"How does she do it?" Oliver asked, more to himself than Damien.
"She's brilliant," Damien replied easily. "It doesn't hurt that she has literally a legion of people working basically around the clock to make sure it happens flawlessly. Every dress is couture, she has decorators and chefs, and the finest bakeries from all over the world. She never wears the same outfit twice, but then, she always makes sure her gowns are donated." Oliver looked impressed at that.
The drive back to the Manor was considerably smoother than their first trip had been. They'd had far more to talk about and the drive had felt immensely faster. Not that Oliver had done much of the driving himself. The moment he had figured out how to turn on the driver-assist feature he had done so.
The Manor grounds were largely free of snow this time around, Oliver was somewhat sad to note. Though, if the Manor had looked stunning covered in snow, it was nothing compared to how it looked in springtime. Surrounded by fluffy green grass, and flowers, and verdant trees. Even the fountain was more lively, spitting out water from its top and filled with beautiful blooms that had blown in from around the garden. Carmichael Manor had a warm and inviting glow with all of the flora and fauna about, even more so than it had during the winter. It didn't hurt that Oliver knew Damien's parents now, and he was far less intimidated by them and the Manor at large.
Damien's mother had even insisted that he call her Cynthia and Damien's father— well, he seemed friendly enough. If overprotective of his son. Not that Oliver could blame him. He appreciated it more than he could possibly say. Overprotective was far better than apathetic, he thought. He only wondered how his own parents would have felt about Damien. He had tried not to think about it, not to let his mind go there, but as he watched Mr. And Mrs. Carmichael make their way out of the Manor and pull Damien into a hug, he couldn't help but wonder a little. Mrs. Carmichael pulled him in for a hug a moment later, and the four made their way inside the Manor. Oliver sighed happily, whatever else had happened to him, it was nice to know that he had inherited a family through all of this.