never be so kind, you forget to be clever

Another nod in agreement at the sentiment that it was better to avoid the lost boys’ house and whoever may be returning there once the night was through. “My roommate’s gone for the break anyway,” he finally admits, figuring it was better to say it now than wait for Sam to find out when they arrive at his empty dorm and think Michael had tricked him into being alone again. Because that was not the case, not at all. Yes, he wants to be alone with the other boy and do the sort of things they used to share together before a certain Tramp girl had come into their lives – but he’d never want to make Sam feel as if he were being pressured or manipulated in any way into anything at all.

As they walked towards the campus, which thankfully wasn’t too far, the last subject Michael would have ever expected to be used to fill the silent void was the fiasco of what had happened at Halloween. Though they had never talked about it beyond that night, he had assumed that was simply because it was in the past - what else was there to say really, anyway? Michael had messed up. Colette had messed up. And Sam was stuck in the middle of it all. It wasn’t exactly the most pleasant of conversation topics to be had. “You don’t have to apologize,” he promises, genuinely meaning it and not just trying to make the other boy feel better. “It was hardly your fault at all. I’m the one that’s sorry for well, everything. For saying those things to her, for dragging you into the middle of it again. You don’t deserve that.”

“No, it’s—I know how she can get,” he sighed. For as much as Michael shouldn’t have said what he had, Sam knew his ex-girlfriend had probably provoked him to the point of snapping. It was one of her best talents, getting Sam to the edge and daring him to jump, to be the one to finally break things off. No matter how close he’d come, he’d never gotten there, and now, he never would. “She has such high standards for people, y’know? They’re impossible. And, then, she pokes and prods you under pressure and still expects perfection.” 

He was venting now, and he couldn’t imagine Michael really wanted to hear all of it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on about it, it’s just—I feel like she wanted me to get frustrated with her tonight, or something. Like she was looking for ways to get me pissed off, and … I couldn’t do it anymore. So, I’m glad I found you.”

“Mmm, I’m feeling chicken. Sweet and spicy, with lo mein. And spring rolls,” she decides, just the thought of the comfort food starting to settle her down some more. It was easy, being with Sam right now, to pretend like maybe nothing had happened. As if this were just a normal Friday evening they were sharing together while everyone else was out and about. But of course, that wasn’t the case. And her little bubble was popped as soon as he admitted to having spent at least a portion of his day locked up alone and crying. “Well no more tears will be shed tonight. We’re going to stuff out faces, watch some bitches be murdered, and then laugh it all off with something stupid and ridiculous. All exes are banished from our mind for the rest of the night, starting now. And if one of us breaks that rule, the other gets to… I don’t know punch them or something.”

Sam hadn't planned on heading into the new year on a Michael relapse. In fact, he hadn't planned on getting back with him at all, but a lapse in judgement on New Year's Eve had led to him spending more than a few nights at the other boy's dorm. Though they'd kept things close to their chest the last time they were seeing each other like this, it felt different this time around; Sam questioned whether judgement would come from the other boys after how recently he and Colette had broken up.

It was why he thought it best not to tell anyone. If they could just keep their meetings to Michael's dorm, surely no one would ever find out. Sam's plan hadn't taken into consideration the incredulous look on Tink's face when he'd strolled into the boys' house past midnight with tousled hair and a shirt that wasn't his.

Caught dead in his tracks, Sam thought about lying, he did--it simply seemed pointless when the blonde was maybe the only person with whom he could entrust his secret. If there was one of his friends he would be comfortable telling, it was her. The guilt was what got him seated beside her on the couch, head hung low. "I was at Michael's," he admitted, as though he was confessing to a crime. "I've kinda ... been at Michael's, maybe a few times."

"Your friends are the ones that make it hard." It was a statement Colette maintained without any cognizance for the way she came off, she really did convince herself that she was on her best behavior. "I really do try with them, I was literally talking to Michael about his costume and then he became annoying and then he called me a slut." She left out very important details, including those that incriminated herself but she wasn't going give up culpability so easily. "I fucking tried being nice, your friends are just-" She held herself back from saying anything too bitchy knowing Sam wouldn't want to hear any words she so badly wanted to say, instead she just made an aggravated face and left it at that. Which she would like to point out is a favor she would only do for him.

"They're not just my friends, Colette," he pointed out, his words warning. It was clear she was holding back something, whether her true feelings on the group or simply the words of annoyance that she dared to speak now. "They're the only family I've got. I know they make it hard sometimes, and I promise, I've done everything I can to try and get them to get along. But, I don't think it's any secret that we've had ... issues in the past, and they're just--they're a little protective. Maybe too much, I don't know, but we're family, and if you can't get along with them ... I don't know what to tell you." Sam gave her an exhausted shrug, out of words and solutions.

Without a word she already knew something was wrong, giving a small frown before approaching her friend who sat alone in a room offshoot. Marie plopped down beside him with a grin starting to form, hoping it would inspire one of his usual Sam smiles too. "Joyeux noël," the blonde greets warmly. Things had been strange between them, sure, but Marie never stopped caring about her friend. In fact, she'd been trying to grow closer to her half-sister who just so happened to be someone he cared about all the same. "Why is it not looking very joyeux over here though? Are you alright, mon ami?" While she knew it was none of her business Marie couldn't help but notice something bothering him. It was unusual for Sam to be so stoic and keep to himself amidst his favorite company. This was also when Marie noted she hadn't seen Colette anywhere, usually always able to find her by his side. "Did something happen with Lettie?" It was bold of her to ask so outright but Marie couldn't deny that it pained her to think about that, knowing how they cared for one another. Even if they weren't close, that was her sister after all.

"Hey," he replied as he clicked off his phone, shutting off the quick glance he'd been taking at his ex-girlfriend's Instagram. "Uh, I mean, yeah, y'know, just was getting a little warm in there, is all." It had only taken one accidental mention of Colette for Sam to shut down, having needed the space only his room could provide. "You can sit, if you want." Sam moved to the side, allowing space for her to join him on the carpet, as a certain brunette wasn't here anymore to be angered by her presence. "We broke up," he confirmed, "around Halloween."

The offer to talk, to even get out of here and ditch the party entirely, is more than a bit of shock, given that they’ve barely spoken to each other since that dreaded night on Halloween. It’s probably not the smartest move, agreeing to leave with Sam of all people, both for his own mental sake and for how it might look if anyone else spotted them… But Michael finds he can’t bring himself to care enough to say no. Which may be the alcohol’s fault or the simple fact that he struggled to ever deny the other boy anything. “Yeah, yeah. We can leave,” he agrees, praying he doesn’t come across as too eager. Though he knows there’s a good chance talking things over might only make things worse, the even slimmest possibility of it fixing things between them makes the risk completely worth it. Plus, he really was hating this night so far anyway. “My dorm isn’t too far, if you want to go there.” He leaves out that his roommate was off the island on holiday with his family, not wanting to seem like he was presuming anything by pointing out the fact that they’d be alone - even if it was a selling factor that made him suggest his own place over the lost boys’ house.

Sam hadn't been inside the dorm room he'd once found so familiar in over a year. The idea of returning had him nearly transported back to the first time he'd been invited: the same excitement began to turn his already pink cheeks what he assumed was the same red hue as the wine he'd been drinking before. "Okay," he agreed, "okay, yeah. Let's do that, 'cause I don't know who's gonna be at my house, y'know, after the party." He hoped it wasn't presumptuous, that they would need to be alone, but truly, the last thing he wanted was for Tink to see how little judgement he was about to exercise.

Sam began to walk in the direction of campus, his steps slow in the cold. "I, uh--I've been meaning to apologize, again, for what happened on Halloween. I just feel like I haven't gotten the chance to talk to you, y'know ... just the two of us, since then."

“I didn’t think you’d be here tonight,” he admits with a small shrug. He has a feeling Sam wasn’t here of his own accord and one of the boys or Tink likely dragged him to the party, but he refrains from asking if that’s true as well out of fear of seeming like he’s prying. It wasn’t his business why the other boy had decided to attend tonight’s event anyway. Or at least, that’s what Michael tried to remind himself. It was hard sometimes, knowing just where they stood anymore, and the events of Halloween certainly hadn’t made it any easier. The already awkward footing he had stood on around the boy now seemed far more dangerous, like one wrong move would have him tumbling into the end of their entire friendship.

Maybe it was the alcohol thinking for him, but the part of Sam that had wanted to address all of this head-on and clear the air once and for all, tonight. They'd spent the past two months avoiding each other: it was high time they finally spoke of what happened on Halloween. It wasn't exactly the time nor place, he knew that rationally, but the overwhelming itching feeling to just clear the air was getting to him. "D'you wanna, like ... I dunno, go talk, or something, somewhere?" he blurted in offering, his hands grasping his champagne flute tighter as he spoke. "I just feel like I need to get out of here, but I really don't want to alone, and ... I miss talking to you," Sam admitted, the words he'd been wanting to say for months, but had only found the lapse in judgement to now.

Attending a giant island wide party wasn’t exactly how Michael wanted to spend his New Years Eve, in complete honesty. He hasn’t had the best of luck at gatherings like this lately - almost every event ending in some form of heartache - but the rest of the Darling clan were all in attendance, and he refused to be the one to ruin the mood. His mother and older sister for certain would be worried for him if he sat out and decided to spend the holiday at home on his own. So here he was. At a fancy hotel he never in his life would likely be able to afford to stay, feeling like shit and sneaking as many glasses of champagne as he could from the waiters walking by who couldn’t be bothered to care how old he was.

It was getting closer to midnight, the new year right on the horizon, and all he wanted was to go back to his dorm and curl up under his blankets. Sure, he’d had fun spending time with his friends - but everyone was starting to couple up now, getting ready for the countdown that would lead to their new years kiss. And Michael was alone, more so than he’d ever been in his life. The thought of trying to find a random guy, or hell even a girl, to partake in the tradition with just for the sake of not being left out had crossed his mind a few times but had easily been dismissed as a bad idea. There was only one guy he really wanted to be kissing tonight, but that wasn’t an option anymore - hadn’t been for a long while, actually.

Dowing the last of the champagne in his current flute, he closes his eyes for a moment or two, just to regather himself and start accepting that this was going to be his fate. But the thought doesn’t last long, considering when his eyes reopened there stood the very boy he had just been trying to push away from his mind. “Sam,” he startles, blinking a few times to ensure he wasn’t somehow drunker than he thought and imagining things. When nothing changes after that, it becomes clear this is really happening. “Hi. Hey.” Very articulate, very smooth he thinks to himself, feeling like the biggest loser in the world. “How are you, uhh, how are you doing tonight?”

The easiest answer was to drink, which was exactly what Sam was going to do when the champagne was free. Strangely enough, he'd spent a decent amount of time with Oliver Smee, of all people, who had apparently become simpatico with the group since Tink had deemed him date-worthy. Stranger things had happened, many of which had unfolded over the past two months, so he couldn't really judge too harshly. He actually didn't seem like the worst guy in the world, either, which was surprising given whose company he kept, and who he worked for.

As the evening wound down, Sam begun to search the crowd for a reliable ride home, though it seemed all of his friends had otherwise been coupled up or staying the night. A ride home alone wasn't the worst fate he could possibly face, but he would be damned if he had to find one after watching everyone in the vicinity suck each other's faces at midnight. He was about to say his goodbyes, his eyes on a rideshare app when he instead heard a hello, coming from a boy who he didn't think he'd be speaking to this evening, much less striking a conversation. "Michael," he blurted, exchanging an awkward greeting of his own. There was no use in lying, as he instinctively set his empty flute down in favor of a full one. "Shitty," Sam confessed simply, offering a weak smile. "I hope yours is going better than that. At least there's free drinks."

But before he can answer, Sam is already pacing the room and trying to give what felt like a half-assed excuse as for why Colette might have said any of the things that she had. “Abrasive? Is that what you call her?” he finds himself asking, his own temper starting to rise as this continues to snowball from just a simple discussion into a borderline fight. “Sam, no one likes her because she’s a bitch. I don’t think she’s ever said one kind word to any of the boys - what are they supposed to do with that?” Shaking his head, Michael takes a few steps forward to stand in front of the other boy, cutting off his pacing. “You want to know what she said? She was making fun of me, for liking you so much - for thinking that we had been anything serious. That is far more than just being abrasive, and you know it.”

It was, for those reasons, even harder to defend her. Sam didn’t quite know how to invalidate Michael’s intense feelings of detestation for her as he might’ve felt them, too, if someone who the other boy was dating had said those words to him. It only made him sadder, to think that there was no reconciling the deep rift between Colette and his friends. “I’m sorry,” he managed, standing still in place as his temper slowed to a stop. All he could think to do was sit in this room forever, or cry, or wish he had someone impartial around to give him all the answers to this impossible problem he faced. "Please don't say that to her face," he requested quietly, though if Michael had wanted to, Sam didn't have much ground to stand on his only ask. "I--I'll talk to her. Just let me talk to her, please, before the others find out."

Standing from her spot next to him on the couch, Tink begins the short walk over to the kitchen and opens first the fridge then the freezer, inspecting what options they may already have here - only to find pretty much nothing, which isn’t really that much of a surprise. “God you guys need to go grocery shopping. How do you even survive like this?” she asks, despite knowing damn well that if she lived on her own her fridge would likely look exactly the same way. Turning back to Sam, she raises an eyebrow and takes the offered phone before realizing it’s probably a smart idea to do the same, so she pulls her own phone out and puts them both in an empty fruit bowl on the counter. She would have held on to his herself, but in all honesty she doesn’t trust herself to not send mean and angry messages to Colette herself. “No romances. I want to watch someone die. What are you feeling food wise? I’m thinking Chinese, go traditional non-tradition holiday food.”

"Chinese it is," he agreed, pulling one of the many paper menus they'd received under the door out of the disorganized drawer they'd shoved them in. "I could go for dumplings, something warm, y'know?" The sight of both of their phones on the counter made him smile, knowing they couldn't be unexpectedly hurt by the two people who had gotten them so down in the first place. "I can handle death, too. That, or maybe a comedy after, to lighten the mood. I could use a laugh; I've already cried today," Sam admitted, having spent the afternoon locked in his room at the thought of the party he was supposed to have attended tonight.

The mention of his sister and the fact that his girlfriend has a brother of her own only has Michael shaking his head. “If someone said that to Wendy, I’d let her handle it herself. Girls don’t need their brothers coming in and fighting their battles,” he reminds the other boy, though there is a part of him that knows he’d be upset if anyone ever treated Wendy that way. It’s enough to make him feel even more guilty for what he’d done, but he wasn’t going to admit any of that. Right now he needed to stand by his actions, if only because of the betrayal he felt at Sam not understanding where he might have been coming from and being more upset about his insult than any of the ones Colette has ever thrown around about the lost boys.

Frustrated, Sam began to pace the length of Phil's room. There was no point in going downstairs without all the information he could have from Michael's side before asking for his girlfriend's. He knew he shouldn't have placed them in the same vicinity of one another, let alone a party where either could roam free like this. "I know she can be ... abrasive sometimes, but it's not like everyone's made it easy for her. No one's ever given her a chance because ... you know why. And, I'm not saying you ever had to, but no one has. So, yeah, I'm sorry if it seems like she doesn't really fit in, but no one's ever made room for her, either."

"It just—" When presented with the other routes she could have gone with instead, it did become a bit harder to defend her own actions. However, in the moment, throwing a drink really did feel like the only reasonable thing to do. The other options wouldn't have felt as satisfying enough, she wanted to hurt Michael for hurting her. His intentions were clear, he wouldn't have said those things if it weren't for the sole reason to piss her off so if Michael didn't want vodka and pineapple juice on him then maybe he should have kept quiet. "I don't know, maybe it was, like, reflexes or something. Why is it on me to not do anything when he insulted me in the first place? If he told you what he said and that doesn't immediately make you angry then I don't know how else to explain myself."

Sam let out a breath, frustrated. Both Colette and Michael were quick to point fingers at one another, and yet blame his reaction on siding with the other. "I'm not saying it's on you, it's just ... there are certain things you can control, right? Your reaction to things other people say. And, I just wish you hadn't thrown a drink on him, okay?" There was no reasonable way of describing that, now, all his friends were sure to hate her, if they hadn't begun already, regardless of what Michael had said to provoke her. "I just wanted everyone to get along, and I don't know why that's so hard. It's not your fault, it's no one's fault. I just wish the two of you hadn't gotten into a fight in the first place."

While she knew the joke was meant to try to cheer her up, Tink couldn’t help the way her entire face soured at the thought that she was just some girl that happened to be his type. That she was so easily replaceable that any other blonde would suffice and he’d be more than happy with Marie instead of herself. “Well fuck her,” she harshly lets out, wanting to get up and go break something but forcing herself to stay still on the couch. “Fuck them both, actually. Who needs them and who needs some fancy Friendsgiving dinner. We should do something ourselves.” In truth, she had really been looking forward to the night - wanting the chance to get to know Sharpay’s boy better and to be around people she had thought would get her mind off the entire John mess… But now that it was no longer an option, rooting through the freezer and throwing together a half assed little meal with Sam sounded just as fine.

It was nice to have some companionship on a night when he thought he'd have none, Tink's quick decision to have a Friendsgiving of their own a suggestion that sounded better than sitting around and sulking by himself. If he could do anything to help Tink feel better, and hope to lift his own spirits, it would be more productive than feeling sorry for themselves. It wasn't much of Tink's style to do that, anyway. "Yeah, yeah, we should. I was just gonna sit around and watch movies, but we could get takeout, or something, and do that. You can stay over, if you want," he suggested. "And, please take my phone away from me. Before you got here, I almost wanted to text Colette. Put it in jail, please," Sam begged, handing it over to her.

Following in the older boy’s room, Michael was about to head towards the closet as instructed without any further questioning until he was told to stop, a t-shirt being handed over. There was a moment of hesitation before he took off the soaking wet shirt practically clinging to his body, feeling strange changing in front of the other boy even though Sam was turned around and couldn’t see. He made fast work of putting the new shirt on and was about to tell him he could turn back when instead the dreaded question was posed of what happened. It wasn’t something he wanted to discuss, with anyone really but certainly not with the girl had had been fighting with’s boyfriend. But Sam deserved to know the truth and it would be better hearing it from Michael than only getting Colette’s side of the story. “We were arguing. About well… I guess kind of about you? And then I said she was dressed like a slut and said she doesn’t treat you right, which was when she, you know, threw her drink and you came in.”

As much as it wasn't his fight to have, it kind of was: what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn't defend Colette before someone who wronged her? "You called her a slut," he repeated, his face flat as he processed the title he'd given her. "She's not a slut, and you have no right to call her that." He had no place to comment on his relationship, either, but there were larger issues at hand, as far as Sam was concerned. He couldn't defend Colette against treating him a certain way. "She shouldn't be throwing drinks on anyone, but when you say something like that, I get why she did." It was as impartial as he could be, while being firmer with Michael than he ever had been before. "You shouldn't be saying anything like that to any girl, period. I mean, Wendy's not, obviously ... y'know, but what would you do if someone called her that? You do know Colette has a brother, too, right?"

Letting herself simply hold onto Sam for a few moments as she calmed herself down, the blonde finally pulled away and took a deep breath to answer the multitude of questions he likely had over this whole thing. “John showed up to dinner,” she starts, frowning as she thinks back on the moment he had showed up with his date, seemingly so happy to be there until he had turned and seen her face. “As Marie’s date.” Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised, considering she had seen them making eyes and dancing together at the hotel’s halloween party, but she hadn’t expected it to be something serious enough that he’d actually show up with her for an event like this.

Just as he'd suspected, it'd been the eldest Darling son who had been behind Tink's brief breakdown. Sam hadn't expected John to have an invitation to the Evans' household, but it was the mention of the other blonde that completed the picture of why she was so upset. "I'm so sorry," he offered in comfort. "Since when are they into each other, anyway? That's so random. First you, and now Marie? He must have a thing for blondes," Sam joked, teasingly ruffling her hair. "I was supposed to go, as Colette's date, and then ... well, you know."

The familiar hand on her shoulder wasn't comforting as it had been in the past. Something that she once enjoyed was now making her roll her eyes, maybe it was the circumstances but perhaps there was just something that didn't feel quite right. Regardless, it was her cue to lead them somewhere private to talk — or in this case, to argue as she already planned on doing. It didn't take long before stepping outside that she already had something on her mind she wanted to say. "No, of course, you had to go take care of Michael. It's not like you have a whole group of friends who could watch over him. You, personally, had to make sure he was alright instead of checking in on your girlfriend." She didn't catch on to how self-centered she sounded, in her mind she was being treated unfairly. And given the past with his friends, she didn't put it past them to create some narrative that she had a personal vendetta against each and every one of them. "I'm just having some trouble with the logic here, because I feel like the victim in this and the person that was provoking me is who you helped out first."

"He was soaking wet," he stated simply, "I wanted to get him dry, and then I was coming to check on you. I told you that." Sam stood his ground on that: there was nothing he would've changed about how he'd approached the situation in the kitchen not knowing how they'd gotten there. "I didn't know how he'd provoked you, but he told me what you said, and he was wrong to say it. I'm sorry he said that to you." Both things could be true, and Sam simply found himself stuck in the middle of two of the people closest to him inconsiderate of any of his own feelings. "But, you could've walked away. Why didn't you just walk away?" he questioned, nearly pleading. "Or, I don't know, just say something, instead of throwing a whole drink on him."

To make matters even worse, before he has a chance to do anything more than let out a shout and take a step backwards, blinking the alcohol and juice out of his eyes - they were joined by the very reason they had been arguing in the first place. Words didn’t come to him as he wiped at his face and simply stared back at Sam as the boy took control of the situation. A simple nod was all he could muster up as he followed to exit the kitchen, not giving Colette a single secondary glance or acknowledgement. For all he was being taken care of first, Michael couldn’t help feeling like a child about to be scorned and lectured at any moment. He’d fucked up, and he knew it. Even if he hadn’t been the one to escalate things so drastically, he knew he’d done the provoking that led them there and chances were high Sam was going to be pissed over that fact.

As they climbed the stairs up to the second floor, Michael waited for the yelling to start at any moment, but by some kind of miracle it never came. Instead there was just a simple question, with an almost disbelief in his tone as he asked it, about whether what he had seen was true or not. There were a lot of factors that had led to the moment, but the truth was just as simple as the question that had been asked. “Yeah,” he confirms with a sigh, knowing he should explain how they had gotten to that point but not quite ready to admit his own guilt quite yet. He wasn’t going to lie, if asked for further details he would absolutely give them, but it’s not something he wants to own up to so easily.

Sam closed the door behind them, wanting no risk of eavesdropping to follow. "You want to check the closet?" Sam asked as he started toward the drawers, hoping to find a t-shirt that wasn't long enough to fit Michael as a dress. "Actually--I think this'll work." He handed him one with the movie he'd been a part of, Heathers, on the front, hoping neither Wendy nor Phil would mind that they'd gone rummaging through his room for the sake of her brother. He turned around, letting Michael change without Sam's gaze on him, though his head tilted to the side as he asked the question he'd been avoiding since they'd been in the kitchen. "Uh, what happened ... the kitchen? Did something happen?"