the Secret Life of Damien Carmichael

20. Those Three Words (part I)

The Sunday before the Winter Ball found Damien, Oliver, and Mr. Carmichael on their way to the Manor, Mrs. Carmichael had left that Friday to finalize everything and get started on preparations for the Winter Ball, giving the boys a few more days to enjoy themselves. Not that they'd left the cabin much. 

The week before the ball was always notoriously hectic around the Manor, and this year was no exception. Damien did his best to stay out of his mother's way, trying to ensure that Oliver would do the same.

No sooner had they arrived at the Manor, than Damien had pulled Oliver through the foyer, past several judgmental looking paintings of Damen's relatives, past a priceless vase perched atop an equally priceless end table, up the marble staircase and into his bedroom.

As usual, his father preferred to leave in the dead of night, meaning that it was still dark out when they had returned several hours later, and Damien was still desperately tired. He had always slept rather poorly on car rides, though he tried. Pulling Oliver down a corridor and into his room, Damien kicked off his shoes and all but ran towards his bed.

Oliver stood at the door, staring around the room in awe. "This is your bedroom?" he asked.

Damien looked around his room with a shrug, it didn't seem all that special, at least, not that much different from the dorms at Westlake. Sure it was large, large enough that his bed sat on its own platform that required several stairs to get up to, and he had a full-sized couch at the end of his bed, should the need ever arise. Then there was the flat screen tv that was mounted on the opposite wall, which basically consisted of a small living room.

And sure he had basically every video game system in existence, a start of the art computer and a floor to ceiling bookshelf that encompassed a large swath of his wall, but so did most people he knew.

Oliver appeared to have caught sight of the gaming systems.

"You have games that haven't even been released yet," Oliver said excitedly.

Damien merely shrugged, "Father knows people at the developer," he said with a yawn. "You're more than welcome to play anything you like."

Oliver looked stunned and giddy, as though he had just been offered a king's ransom. "Really?" he asked.

Damien shrugged, "Go nuts. Just keep it down a bit. I need my beauty rest," he said and with that Damien pulled the curtains around his bed and closed his eyes. He had hoped Oliver would want to join him, but he supposed that the allure of the latest video game was a siren song even he couldn't beat.

Almost immediately Damien fell asleep, despite himself. He didn't notice Oliver sneaking out of his room, and down to the ballroom to meet with Mrs. Carmichael. Their secret plan well underway.

The week moved by quickly, Damien noted with some amount of annoyance. As was often the case, the school year preceding the Winter holidays always seemed to drag on interminably, while the holiday itself always seemed to fly by. Stretching his arms above his head, Damien looked around his empty bedroom with a sigh. Not for the first time he had awoken without Oliver in his bed, he had been sneaking off a lot lately, though it had taken Damien several days to notice this. He never asked, and frankly, Oliver never offered where he was going, so the two were at a sort of stalemate at the moment. He supposed he understood it, it was after all likely his first time staying in a house of this size. Pulling himself out of bed, he crossed from his bedroom towards his mahogany desk that sat in front of the window, booting up his computer. It had been at least a month since he'd written anything new, and his mind had been itching to get back to it for the better part of a week now. As much as it had been an act of escapism for him during school, it was almost a matter of necessity now.

Looking outside the window at the snow-covered grounds, Damien sighed with a contentedness he hadn't felt in quite some time, then opened up a new Scrivener file, titling it TBD, and for a brief moment, stared at the blank file before him, not entirely sure what to write. He had been debating for some time now writing his life story, a more fictionalized version to be sure, but essentially his life story all the same. The cursor blinked on the page, taunting him. He had been so eager to get something written and yet the moment he sat down, nothing came to mind. He groaned, rubbing his temples, and tried to remember the last idea he had had that wasn't about Adam and Claudius. 

The Forbidden Life of Dominic Carrington-- his mind supplied for him.

Damien typed the words into the notepad within Scrivener, his mind suddenly flooded with ideas.

Adding several more folders for new chapters into his work, Damien excitedly started on the first chapter, gleefully typing as fast as his fingers would allow. Inspiration had struck at long last.

He hadn't realized how long he had been writing for, time had slowed to an almost standstill, and after what felt like only a matter of minutes, Damien heard a knock on his door. He paused briefly in his typing, only to save his file. "It's lunchtime," Oliver's voice called to him. Lunchtime? That can't be right, he thought looking over at the clock on his computer. 12:30. 

In all the years he had been writing, he had never quite become accustomed to the state of flow wherein time ceased to exist. He had managed to write several thousand words in the process. Giving his document another save, he stood up from the chair, locking his computer, and made his way over to Oliver.

"Having fun?" Oliver asked with a smile.

"I'm writing for the first time in what feels like forever, so, yes," he said.

"That's great babe," Oliver said wrapping his arm around Damien's waist as the two made their way down the hall towards the staircase. Damien sighed happily, laying his head on Oliver's shoulder, feeling all at once as though everything in his life was absolutely perfect.