[5/28: post-prom making amends]

[puckandpie]

While I'd felt bad backing out on Caron's prom invitation at the last minute, I don't really regret the decision. Jack hadn't ever outright said I shouldn't go, but he's pretty easy to read once you know all the tells and I could see that he was uncomfortable with the whole thing. Maybe even a little hurt. Plus, given everything that had already happened that week with the words scrawled across his back, it seemed sort of thoughtless and mean to just abandon him, even if for only one night.

I hadn't ended up even spending much of the evening with him, but I felt better knowing he could call on me any time if he did need me and I promised myself I'd find a way to make it up to Carson later.

Until, that is, I get the birthday notification.

I'm a day late to noticing it, a single little pop-up when I log into Darrow's bizarre excuse for Facebook and at first it feels like a joke. Or a mistake. I mean, Carson would've told me his birthday was yesterday, wouldn't he?

Except I definitely already know the answer to that.

The guilt is immediate, almost crushing, as I immediately set about baking the best lemon blueberry pie I can possibly manage, as well as a lemon crumble and a good old fashioned batch of chocolate chip cookies just in case.

A few hours later, I'm knocking at Carson's door, pie carrier, Tupperware container, and a carefully wrapped gift box in hand. I have to carefully balance everything to press the doorbell and I suck in a breath and just pray he'll even be home.

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[boywhoflew]

Carson's face hurt.

In the grande scheme of things, he supposed he hadn't even been hit as hard as he could have been, but for someone who had never been punched before it really fucking hurt. He'd muscled through the last couple of hours of prom despite any lingering humiliation and the growing swelling along his cheek bone, and since his arrival home had dedicated himself to one thing: wallowing in his hatred for everyone and everything. He'd even put off starting transcribing his notes for his prom article and just slept in, and since waking up that morning had done little more than scowl in front of his television with a bag of frozen corn pressed to his face with the hope that the bruising would miraculously disappear before school started back up.

Given he was pasty faced and bruised like a goddamn peach, he somehow doubted he'd have that much luck.

He'd actually been on the verge of falling asleep where he'd set up camp on the couch when the door bell went off, and for a second he legitimately considered ignoring it. Knowing his luck at this point it would just be a surprisingly polite burglar or the universe deciding he needed to get a fresh punch delivered to his doorstep, but with a groan he forced himself to get up and answer the door, his sad bag of frozen corn half thawed and mushy from where he still had it pressed to his face.

Honestly, he shouldn't have been surprised to find Eric on the other side, but he still was, and for a second he froze.

"If you changed your mind about going," he finally said. "You're a day late."