27. Better than Prom (part II)

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The day of Prom found Damien completely unprepared. His parents had been grilling him about what the plan was for several weeks now, even going so far as to create a group chat with both them and Oliver and himself in it. Oliver had merely responded with:

I've got this.

Though he refused to elaborate any further than that, much to both Damien and his parent's displeasure. Time had run out, however, and Damien only hoped that Oliver's plan included booking a hotel room in Manhattan and avoiding the prom altogether. They would be just a short-ish train ride from the city and Damien would much prefer spending the day there, to some school dance anyway.

He had tried, albeit delicately to say as much to Oliver, but it was clear he wasn't getting the message.

"Everyone knows," Oliver assured him when Damien had voiced his concern. Damien had merely sighed, he didn't care what anyone else thought any longer. He had, after all, become something of a school celebrity because of his writings. The trouble was, he couldn't shake this feeling deep inside him that said, don't go to prom.

He couldn't explain it.

There was no logical reason for him to feel this way, and yet, everything in him was screaming at him not to go.

Damien wasn't especially superstitious, and he didn't exactly believe in fate or signs (unless he was using them for one of his fics) but as the day approached and the feeling only grew stronger, Damien knew he had to say something to Oliver. Now or never, he thought, staring up at the ceiling of the Senior boy's dormitory.

"Olie," he whispered into the darkness. It was just past 3:30 in the morning.

"Hm?" Oliver asked sleepily. 

Damien swallowed, turning on his side to face his boyfriend, "Are you awake?" he whispered.

"I am now," Oliver replied.

Damien blushed, "Sorry."

"What's up?" Oliver asked.

Damien could hear and feel him turning over in the bed so that they were face to face now. He could almost just make out Oliver's eyes staring back at him, by the light of the moon creeping in from the window. "I know this is going to sound... ridiculous, but I really don't think I should go to prom." He had accepted the fact that Oliver wanted to go, maybe even needed to. But he himself, wouldn't.

Oliver sighed, "This again?" he said quietly.

"Look, I know how important this is to you," Damien replied.

"Do you?" Oliver cut him off. "I only managed to go to junior prom with my friends because my dad's co-workers scraped together enough money to make sure I could go."

"I know," Damien said quietly. He wished he could make him understand.

"Why is this so terrifying for you?" Oliver asked. "Do you not want to be seen with me?"

"Of course that isn't it," Damien cried, slightly louder than he had intended. He sighed, scrubbing his face with his hands.

"Then what? What could possibly be the matter? You've been acting ridiculous for weeks now."

"I just― have a bad feeling about it," Damien replied. He felt ridiculous saying it. Even thinking it felt ridiculous. But he hadn't been able to shake the feeling deep inside of him. "I know it sounds silly and ridiculous but I just keep getting this feeling deep in my gut, and in my chest and every time I think about going, I feel sick."

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