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gooseberryhigh2017-05-04 10:55 pm
Bad news.
When: Thursday, May 4th, afternoon.
What: Calvin tells Micah he won't be returning to Gooseberry next year.
Warnings: Sad teens.
Calvin sits on the docks with his shoes neatly lined up beside him. His socks are tucked into each shoe so that his bare feet can kick the surface of the cold water. Next to the shoes is a letter, long since opened, but with the note folded up and put back inside. The first person he went to with the news was probably unexpected. He could have told Dimi, who would have worried about him too much. Ree, who would have gotten angry and protective. Cole, who…
Calvin doesn’t want to think about what Cole will do.
So he’d written a quick, vague ward to Micah. The kind that said don’t-worry-about-me-overly-much-but-also-please-worry-a-little. Typical manipulative teenager, Calvin estimates. But Micah had never blown him off before, despite all the yelling in previous months. Therefore, he’s not surprised (although he has enough sense to be grateful) when he turns and sees Micah approaching.
It’s rare for Micah to seem wholly attentive. He usually has one of his four cameras up, scanning his surroundings instead of where his feet are going; or he’s stopped in the middle of a busy hallway, scrawling ideas into a notebook; or he’s falling out of his chair trying to mob for the attention of whichever four to five people he’s decided to be in love with that day.
But Micah’s speeding as he exits the main doors of the lodge, only slowing when he approaches the docks. He’s breathing hard, his always messy hair even messier from where it’s stuck to his forehead. He doesn’t have his jacket, or his ever-present heavy backpack, with all its film equipment. He’s not looking for anything except Calvin. Although, by the time he spots him sitting on the docks, Micah has the sense to feel kind of embarrassed, as it now looks like he booked it once he got Calvin’s mildly worded message.
There’s only one thing to do in a potentially embarrassing situation: double down.
Micah sprints down the length of the docks before dramatically throwing himself onto the wooden planks, hard enough to bruise a shin. One hand reaches out, grasping blindly. “Sorry… sorry… just let me catch my…” He emits an exaggerated death-bed wheeze from his throat before going limp, one arm dangling lifelessly from the dock.
For a moment, Calvin imagines grabbing Micah and rolling him off the docks and into the water. Micah would likely grab Calvin’s feet and drag him in as well. He’d yell. Micah would be obnoxious. It’s a fun fantasy, but not at all what he’s here for. Calvin reminds himself to focus, but even with a heavy stone now sitting in his stomach, Micah’s display earns a dry smile.
“You goin’ t’die on me?” Calvin leans back on his propped up arms and watches Micah gasp pitifully for air. At one point he might have accused Micah of mocking him by making such a big display of how he’d rushed to Calvin’s side. Now he knows better. He’s going to miss Micah.
That thought makes him stop smiling.
“Calvin,” Micah says, but muffled, because his face is still mashed into the dock, “I’m obviously dead from exhaustion, and totally can’t respond? Honestly, buddy, your tragic lack of appreciation for an Academy-Award-worthy performance…” He gives up on playing dead and rolls over onto this back. From where he’s lying, he can look up at Calvin’s face. “It’s not too late to join Drama Club.”
“I don’t like the spotlight,” Calvin says coolly, but when he thinks to point out that Micah’s incorrect, his face darkens.
The water feels cold on his feet as Calvin kicks it sullenly. Despite his melodrama, Calvin estimates Micah will be among those least upset about the news. Unhappy, certainly, but Micah always has a million things going for him. He’s popular and well-liked with dozens of friends. He never has fewer than ten projects he’s working on. So Calvin doesn’t know why he’s suddenly struggling to tell him.
But why drag things out? Why lead anyone on with promises he’ll be around?
“And anyway, it is too late. I’m not comin’ back next year,” he says, like spitting out something bitter.
“What?” Micah blinks at him like he’s confused, but he heard Calvin loud and clear. This is the danger with the exchange students. Gooseberry’s the place for “expanding horizons,” not finishing high school, not when most Hogwarts students carry their superiority on their sleeves. Not when Hogwarts is one of the oldest magical institutions in the Western world, and Gooseberry is a weird school in the middle of the woods. It was inevitable.
But this is Micah’s second year, and he hasn’t yet had to deal with one of his friends leaving while he stays. What would this year—this shocking, harrowing, dazzling, spectacular year; this year that’s made him feel the most of anything since the world went dark—have been like without Calvin, Pippa and Ari? Not the same. Not the same at all.
Micah pushes himself up on one elbow. “Is this… this about last week?”
Calvin leans forward and grabs the edge of the docks, staring down into the water. Last week. Rather than say anything outright, he just nods. He’s never going to forget the look on Dimi’s face, like Calvin had come back from the dead. And that’s nothing compared to the things Damon’s going to remember for the rest of his life. Nothing actually happened, though. That’s what the angry letter he sent back to his parents said.
“My parents had to be told, plus they keep sendin’ them all letters promisin’ it’s not dangerous.” Calvin scoffs softly, almost drowned out by the sound of the water. “There are only so many times you can tell a person that before they get suspicious. Pullin’ me out is a bit too dramatic for them, but I’ll be back at Hogwarts next year.”
“Oh man.” Micah presses both hands to his face, processing this. He is, to be honest, kind of winded (maybe he should join the morning jogging club? except ugh, who wants to be up that early?), and it takes a second to get his heart to stop racing ridiculously. “Oh god. Oh man. Oh god. Oh man! Oh god! Oh man.”
It’s a joke. Nine times out of ten, Micah reaches for a joke when he has to react to anything. What is there in the wake of a joke? Sympathy. Regret. Sadness. He’s not good at any of these things. Calvin must know that. Micah lowers his hands from his face and just stares at his friend for a moment. He tries to imagine Gooseberry without Calvin Evercreech, and all he can think about is the very first time Micah saw him on the bus in freshman year, glaring out the window, refusing to speak to any of them.
“You can’t go.” It sounds so feeble. Micah doesn’t touch him, but he wonders if he should. “You love it here. You hate it back there.”
When it’s put so plainly, it hurts even more. He’d hated it here for so long, but now he has things and people he loves. A real boyfriend. Friends. Security. Respect. The forest never bothered him any more than the childish nightmares he had after watching a horror movie Micah made him sit through. His anxiety about returning to Hogwarts runs much deeper than his infantile fear of the dark. Calvin lets go of the dock just to fold his arms tightly.
“I don’t have a choice, do I?” He tries to blink away the urge to cry. He refuses to cry. “I’ll tell the rest of them soon. I didn’t know who else to… to go to.” Calvin sniffles. It’s embarrassing.
Micah freezes when he hears that sniffle, that involuntary catch in Calvin’s voice. He’s never done well with other people’s emotions. He’s never done well with grief, or sorrow, or despair. He has the fleeting, irrational thought if he just doesn’t say anything, maybe Calvin will forget that he’s here.
He could leave. Except that Calvin will be leaving forever in less than two months, and Micah can’t bring himself to cut down on the time he gets with him.
Micah pulls himself up to sitting position. Ree and Cole—it’s going to break their hearts. We were supposed to stay friends, all of us. What about Quidditch? What about next year’s prom race? What about graduation? He can’t say it. Calvin knows, anyway. He looks so alone, hugging himself. Ree wouldn’t hesitate to throw her arms around him. She’d know what to say, all the tough love baby boy best friends forever things to say.
Goddammit, Micah. “You know what we say in Blue Birdy Central! Hugs, not drugs!” He pulls Calvin into a sudden embrace, not brooking any argument. “Actually, we kinda say hugs and drugs? What would work better? Hugs, not slugs? Caresses, not messes? Clinches, not flinches?” Micah squeezes him harder. “I’ll write to you. After all, after all, after all, you always need kindling for those damp Slytherin fireplaces!”
Ordinarily, Calvin is selective about hugs. He dodges them, and when he can't, he over-analyzes them. Any sort of touching is complicated at best, invasive at worst. But this time he throws his arms around Micah. He doesn’t even have to think that hard about it. Although he knows that as soon as he does, he’s going to cry. Maybe not immediately, but when his chin hooks around Micah’s shoulder, he can sense it’s unavoidable.
He and Micah have never truly embraced before. They’ve hardly even touched one another. Calvin hadn’t allowed it. He’d been so scared of everything. Why had he wasted so much time being afraid…?
“Stop,” he complains, but there’s no steel to it, especially not when his voice is wobbling with the tears he won’t allow himself to shed just yet. “Just stop. I’d never—never toss them. Whatever you write. Whatever nonsense.”
“I know.” Micah laughs, and almost sounds like he means it. “I know. You secretly adore me.” He rests his head on Calvin’s shoulder, not letting go so long as Calvin doesn’t let go. He’s no stranger to intense hugging sessions. Azurcrest, after all. If Calvin needs to cry it out, then he can bear it, just this once.
“Secretly,” Calvin grumbles against Micah’s shoulder. He thinks if he keeps the crying quiet, Micah will hardly notice.
Micah hums a little. “Are you allowed to come back? Because if this all goes the anticlimactic route and nobody dies for like a whole year, there’s no reason not to return, right? Like, forget junior year, juniors are the worst. Senior year is when all the exciting stuff happens. I might finally convince someone to go to prom with me. You don’t want to miss that, do you?”
Calvin knows that the answer is no. Or at the very least, it’s so unlikely that he might as well say no. Dimi was declined for years. He’s not going to let Micah get either of their hopes up, even though it’s a pretty thought. “They’ll give my spot away. The school’s too exclusive. I’ll be replaced by someone who’ll probably like all your films more. Maybe you’ll take him to prom.”
“I can never resist a cute accent,” Micah sighs. His T-shirt is growing damp at the shoulder, but Micah pretends not to notice. He does put a hand on the back of Calvin’s head—gently, like his father would, before Micah got too old to ask his parents for hugs. “Especially a cute accent attached to a snooty snake you’ve no doubt been mailing for two years to tell them all about how handsome and charming I am. But if it were up to me, Evercreech… I’d always pick you over someone single and with good taste.”
Calvin pulls away unexpectedly. It’s not Micah’s fault, but he’s reminded of the thing he’s been desperately trying not to think about. It’s, perhaps, the most pertinent problem posed by leaving forever and never seeing any of these people ever again. His chest aches. Dread of the inevitable starts to take root. He’s preemptively bereaved.
Wiping his face hurriedly, Calvin gathers himself together. Outwardly, at least. Inside he feels like a wreck. “I’ll be single again soon,” he says, trying to contain his misery. Merlin, that sounded callous. Why is he trying to make jokes? Calvin’s face scrunches up with guilt. “I have to break up with Cole.”
Micah watches him for a moment, expression neutral, because he knows Calvin would hate if anyone made a big deal out of him crying. Forced impassivity stops him from saying the obvious thing. But why or no you can’t or don’t say that, you can make it work. Micah can’t blame him, even knowing how devastated Cole will be. Two different boarding schools, separated by the vast Atlantic Ocean? Micah would probably choose the same.
“He won’t want you to,” he says simply.
“Neither do I,” Calvin counters, a note of desperation slipping into his voice. It’s going to destroy Cole. Or is it arrogant to think a relationship of only a few months would be so important? Calvin runs his hands through his hair, which doesn’t help to calm him.
“But anything else would just be… delayin’ the inevitable. And this isn’t me being negative. It’s realistic.” His eyes dare Micah to tell him he’s wrong, although Calvin suspects he won’t. Micah may be melodramatic, but that part of him always feels skin deep. And there are no dramatics right now as they stare at one another, both falsely calm. No recounting of the story of some film Calvin’s never seen, no framing the world through tropes, no claims about how romantic it would be despite the distance. “It wouldn’t be fair. He’d believe me if I said we could still try, and it’d hurt twice as much when it didn’t work.”
“Maybe—” Micah stops himself. Maybe a year from now, when you come back. Maybe five years from now, when we’ve graduated. Maybe ten years from now, when we’re like memories to each other. Spend too much time obsessing over maybes and you’ll drive yourself nuts. “Okay,” he says. “You’re right. This is cleaner, even if Cole will take it hard. But…” Micah touches the cover of Calvin’s journal, sitting on the dock beside them. “We’re still here for a whole two months. You don’t have to break up with all of us.”
Two months. In September, one month was an eternity. Today, two feels like nothing. His hand hovers several inches over Micah’s, and then rests on the journal beside it. Calvin wonders how long it’ll be before his journal disconnects from the network. Then it’ll just be a frozen record of all the stupid things he said during his years in America. Maybe when he’s a grown man, he’ll have the courage to read it again.
“You really think I could go two months not talkin’ to any of you?” Calvin huffs. “We’re mates.”
Micah makes a face of mock-outrage. “Why do you never say these things when I have a camera running?” Which… speaking of, he’d left his camera charging in the lodge, totally unwatched. Yikes. Luckily, everyone in this school know who owns the handheld video camera that is Micah’s pride and joy. Just try getting away with stealing that, shitty freshmen. He waves his hand in an “oh well” type gesture. “Tell you what: seeing how we’re mates and everything, how about we just… hang out here? I hear if you wave a big enough stick, Goosey will come out of the water.”
Calvin nods, but doesn’t say anything for a moment. He feels the clock ticking. “It’s fine, don’t strain yourself tryin’ to get her attention. In any case, what’s the point without a camera?” It’s the closest he can bring himself to saying there’s not really any need for an outside source of entertainment. If no lake monsters or other students show up for however long Micah decides he can waste sitting with Calvin, it won’t be any loss.
“A philosophical question for the ages!” Micah grins. “Unfortunately for me, I guess I’ll just have to content myself with the memory.” He flops back to lie on the dock, hands behind his head. After a moment, Calvin follows suit.
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b) thank you marin for fitting this very fast log into your schedule.
c) not neglecting calvin's accent for the first time in the run of this terrible child.
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These two are so sweet.
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CALVIN'S ACCENT. HEE. BUT I'M STILL SAD. :c
Also I dearly hope the oh god oh man thing was a reference to the worst line reading ever.
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and YESSSSS micah loves this movie
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