(REQUESTS CLOSED)🎤Friday Night Funkin' One-Shots✨

Carol x Whitty | Under a Tree

I dunno, this one-shot feels a little dry. You peeps can be the judge of that though.

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Carol was hanging out with Whitty at an abandoned playground. It never really occurred to her how tall Whitty is until they went on the swings. He hit his head on the top beam and right afterwards, the chains of the swing broke and Whitty fell to the ground with the swing.

Carol gasped while showing genuine concern. She slowed her swing to a stop. "Are you okay, Whitty?"

Whitty groaned and held his head while standing up. "Yup, definitely fine. I'm not made for these things, though . . . and they seem fun."

"Trust me, there are other things to do that are more fun than these dumb swings." Carol stood from her swing and patted Whitty's arm.

She noticed a small orange blush form on his cheeks; Whitty always got flustered when she patted him. Especially on the head, if she were above him somehow. He could never understand why he would get like that, though!

Carol chuckled: "Wanna get some ice cream instead?" The tall bomb head raised an eyebrow in visible confusion. Carol copied him for fun.

"Ice . . . cream? Why would I want to eat ice with cream on it?"

She eye rolled and said, "Haha, very funny." Whitty shook his head, his expression not wavering.

"Yeah that wasn't meant to be a joke . . . . "

"Huh...?" Then the thought came to Carol: Whitty has been on the run for a long time; but if that was the case, how does he STILL not know what ice cream is? Oh well. Carol explained to Whitty what ice cream is and how it's made. By the time she was finished, they made it to the ice cream parlor.

Whitty put a hand under his chin as he examined the colorful menu. "Alright I think I get it now, but what flavor do I choose?"

Carol shrugged. "I dunno, whatever you want!"

"Hmmm . . . I'll get the one with the three colors."

"You mean Neapolitan?" 

Whitty turned his head to her, puzzled. "Why the heck is it called that?"

"Not sure. Has something to do with France."

"France? This looks like gay France." Whitty heard that joke somewhere, and he thought it would make sense to use it right now.

There was an awkward pause, followed by a burst of laughter from the two of them. The man serving the ice cream at the front heard their joke. He's heard it a thousand times before, so it's not even funny anymore. He always wondered if everyone had the same sense of humor.

Whitty and Carol laughed themselves to tears. Then they walked up to the counter and ordered their ice cream cones. Carol got mint chocolate chip, if that's important to know.

After that, they went outside and sat at a table with an open umbrella in the middle of it. The sun was beaming down for some reason. It was chilly before they went in the parlor! Man, weather does work in weird ways.

Whitty was having difficulties with eating ice cream. Was he supposed to slurp it? Drink it like a milkshake? Eat it like solid food?

Meanwhile Carol was giggling at him. Him trying to figure out simple things was adorable to her.