(no subject)

[casperkim]

WHO: Casper and Cameron
WHAT: Discussing the events during the night of the blizzard
WHEN: Sunday, February 11
WHERE: Ebonhide Camp
WARNING: F for Friendship (also Casper's in it so there's some swearing?)

In the end, Cameron and Casper had decided to put off the mimic talk until the evening when they’d both be returning to Ebonhide. One from the Quidditch match and the other from the Lodge. Casper had claimed that he had work to do. While that was true and he had spent some of the afternoon bent over his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and practicing his spellwork, he’d spent more time than he’d want to admit dwelling on all of his recent upheavals and trying to burn through his feelings by pummeling the heavy bag in the weight room. It had helped, but not much. Certainly not enough to stop him from thinking about the Strangers using him to go after his friend or how easy his past behavior had made that deception. Or the possible situation with Ms. Lilywhite and Director Grimshaw and the aurors. Or the fact that thinking about Iliya still fills him up with admiration and affection and longing in equal measure, even though he and Cameron are now… Sitting by the Ebonhide fire pit and waiting for his roommate, Casper sighs stiffly and rolls one of his sore shoulders. Thinking about all of that is a bad idea. He needs to focus on Cameron and whatever it is he wants to say. The rest of this shit will just have to wait. Cameron has had a very unexpected week. He feels like he’s living a chapter in someone else’s life, because these things don’t happen to him. He doesn’t fight anyone or anything. He isn’t honest about the parts of himself he’s tried to hide. He doesn’t conquer his fears, he prevaricates until he can get out of the situation. Yet, here he is. It had given him a lot to think about, but he knows he’s not the only one. He finds Casper sitting by the fire pit. At a glance, he looks stoic, but Cameron has known him long enough to be able to see the emotions through the cracks. “Hey there,” Cameron says, sliding into the seat beside him. “You get a lot of work done? You missed a heck of a game.” He doesn’t want to talk about the game, though, but it’s hard to get around to, Sorry I killed a possibly evil creature with your face, but don’t feel bad for what it said to me. "Hey." Casper turns his dark eyes toward Cameron as he arrives, straightening his shoulders and attempting to fully compose himself now that he's no longer alone. Obscure those cracks that his friend has (unbeknownst to him) already seen. "Not as much as I wanted," he admits vaguely after a pause and shrugs, "But enough." He doesn’t wait for Cameron to acknowledge or question this answer, though, and adds wryly, "That’s too bad. I was hoping it would be dull. Less ammunition for Quayle." Cameron shrugs. “If it wasn’t the game, he’d be yammering about something else,” he says, rather unfairly, as neither of them are known for their long periods of silence. Still, that’s what follows. Cameron is quiet for several minutes, watching the fire crackle. When the silence settles between them, Casper knows that he ought to say something but he doesn't know what. Should he try to keep up this idle, unimportant conversation until Cameron's ready to say what he needs to say? Should he press the matter directly and ask? For better or worse, though, Cameron makes the decision for him. He turns to look at Casper and says, “Look, I know it’s still bothering you. What happened that night. And it’s bothering me that it’s bothering you.” For a moment, Casper just looks at him. Then, levelly, he asks, "Why do you think it's bothering me?" “Because I know you,” Cameron says with a shrug. “You’re one of my best friends in the world and I can tell?” He glances sideways at the fire. “I know you want to keep us safe. I know you’re angry something happened. And I know you’re saving back some of that anger for yourself.” Casper can argue the point, if he wants, but Cameron is certain about what he’s said. “Look, why do you think it looked like you?” This silences Casper again. The assertion that Cameron is his friend and that he knows him isn't something he can argue with. Isn't something that he'd want to argue with. Even if the idea of being so transparent makes him tense up. While the other boy talks, he pushes back some of his dark hair and turns his gaze toward the fire too until that last question forces him to look back. "Why?" He echoes but there's a hardness and a certainty to it that stops it from sounding like a question at all. "Carney. We both know why." “Do we? You wanna know why I think it looked like you? Cause I look up to you.” He sighs, rubbing his hands together against the chill. “I didn’t wanna tell you what it said, cause I thought you might feel bad about it, but I guess it don’t really matter…” He hesitates momentarily, straightening his shoulders before continuing. “It told me I should have stayed with the group where it was safe, which yeah sure, that sounded like you. Enough to fool me, to start. Then it said I ought to hide, like it knew I wanted to. Because I was going to get myself hurt or worse, someone else on my account. It told me I was an idiot, useless... That’s about the gist of it, anyway.” He pauses to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “And I knew that wasn’t you.” He lets his hand drop back down to his own lap. “That stuff was all true a few years ago. When I got here I was scared, weak, selfish. But I’m a better person now for having known you.” Casper doesn't interrupt. Not when Cameron says that he looks up to him or when he details his encounter with the Stranger or when he places a hand on his shoulder. He can't fully hide the impact that all of this has on him, though. Not even when he lowers his eyes and his dark hair falls to partially obscure his face. "I'm not worth looking up to, Carney," he says stiffly, "And you weren't… any of that. You were a fucking kid. And you grew up into who you are because of you. Not because of me." There's a stern, near-ferocious quality in his tone as he says this that isn't at all unfamiliar. The taking charge voice. The I dare you to contradict me voice. It always comes out when Casper is at his most protective of his roommates too. But it doesn't last. "And it picked me because...I've hurt you before," he finishes more quietly, "Because I know how to be cruel. Sometimes without even trying. There’s no point in pretending otherwise.” Cameron exhales sharply through his nose, not quite a laugh, and shakes his head. “I should’ve known you were gonna fuss with me about it. Stubborn,” he says, a small, fond smile on his face. By now, he’s used to Casper’s Prefect Voice, and it does little to stop him from arguing. “Do you know how I got to be friends with Casey? I decided, gawky as I was, not knowing anybody except Ulysses, if I didn’t want to get picked on any more, I needed to befriend somebody brawny. There was you and Wilde, but you guys were going to be tough nuts to crack. Casey... not so much. I pretended I was real cool, most popular kid at my old school, called him bro, complimented him. Easy enough, I figured, and no one was gonna pick on me if I hung around him. I wasn’t used to having friends. I was a coward and I only thought about myself and how to get what I wanted.” He sighs, thinking about how Casey would feel if he knew that were true. A mimic with his face could tell him, and he knows he’d lie about it. “I’ve grown up a lot, though, I think. You have too. We’re not who we used to be, right? We’ve all grown up together, maybe more in the last year than all the rest combined, and I think we’ve all had a positive impact on each other.” Cameron is quiet for a moment, then he says, his tone teasing, “And maybe you made me cry a time or two, so what? Ulysses, Wilde, and Iliya have all made me cry. Up, Toy Story 3, and the Notebook all made me cry too. Don’t make you special.” He leans sideways, knocking his shoulder into Casper’s. “Anybody can be cruel, but you’re not a cruel person. You’re just not. You’re selfless, and just about the strongest, bravest person I know. I’m honored to be your friend. All four of you. Y’all’re family. I reckon that’s what thing was after, trying to make me feel like I don’t deserve what’s most important to me.” The sound of that not-quite-laugh makes Casper bristle and he turns a glare on Cameron. Like the Prefect Voice, though, this expression likely isn't as intimidating as it may have been even just a year ago. There's no real heat for Cameron in those narrowed eyes and what is there soon fades anyway. The story about Casey isn't one he's heard before and it's difficult for Casper to get his mind around. That Cameron is smarter than the Coppertale and could get on his good side that way if he wanted to goes without saying but the idea that he had is… surprising. Unexpectedly calculated. Especially given how (inexplicably) close the two are now. But the point is clear. Cameron had never gone around starting into fights or being a miserable, pessimistic prick, but he hadn't been perfect either. None of them had been. But they'd made each other better. And that's is something he can accept. Something that, in honesty, he already knows. But the rest is different. His frame is too tense to have much give when the taller boy bumps his shoulder and he shakes his head stiffly. "You deserve everything you've got, Carney. You're… you know that, don't you?" For now, he says nothing of Cameron's assessment of him but the words linger in his mind, refusing to settle. Cameron shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe. I hope so. Deserve sounds like something you finish, though, doesn’t it? Like a trophy you win and put it on a shelf, call it done. But I think it’s more of a moving target, something you gotta keep working at, so… I’m working on it.” "...So am I," Casper admits after a long moment, pulling in a breath and forcing himself back from the emotional edge. He'd expected that Cameron might want to talk about what the Stranger had said and he'd been prepared to reassure his friend. Help him to understand that what the entity had said was bullshit or to accept any unpleasant truths it might've come after him with. But he hadn't bee prepared for this at all. Finally, he shakes his head. "You're in a philosophical mood tonight," he murmurs wryly. Cameron shrugs. “It’s been… a weird month so far. Lots to think about. I feel like I got handed someone else’s script at some point and I’m just trying to make sense of it all.” This prompts a small, unexpected smile from Casper. It's not particularly happy, though. "Isn't that the fucking truth," he returns dully, pushing back his dark hair and turning his eyes back toward the fire. For a moment, he wants to tell Cameron everything. About all the questioning he's been doing and how uncertain, how off, he's been feeling. About the questions he doesn't want to ask Ms. Lilywhite. About Iliya. This last thought, though, snaps him back to his senses. That isn't an option. Instead, he adds, "I appreciate what you said, Carney. But you don't need to worry. This isn't anything I can't handle." "I know," Cameron says, without a hint of doubt. "I just want to make sure you know you don't have to handle it alone." He flashes him a big grin then adds, "You know, usually, this is when I'd say it's time for a hug, but I reckon since you've had such a long day, I can let you out of it this time." "Like I don't know that," Casper returns, knowing that there are some things he does have to handle alone but trying to take these words as they're meant just the same. Because Cameron is important to him. A good friend. Perhaps, like the other boy had said, closer to family. He moves to bump the taller boy's shoulder, mimicking his gesture from just a few minutes before, and utters a small grunt. "Let me out of it? That's not your call." Cameron's grin brightens. "You're right, I don't suppose it is. Pardon me," he replies, then turns to Casper with his arms open in invitation. "Your call." While Casper's features tighten into a scowl, his offended lack of humor and hint of embarrassment are all to be expected. He huffs an exasperated breath. "Carney." "Yeah?" he says with a laugh, but it's less of a question and more of an unsurprised statement. He gives Casper a couple of friendly pats on the back, then drops his arms back down. "Maybe next time." This much, at least, Casper allows. He responds with a faint smirk (or is it a smile?) and a dry tone, "I don't think I'm prepared to change that much."