#alone...together?

potionsandfire

A few weeks had passed since Ephraima had asked Carter on a date. First they had agreed upon going out later that evening of the protest. However, the mixer got in the way, then classes came around, and finally, Carter’s own reservations stopped him from immediately reminding the Brightfeather witch about the agreement. Instead, they would awkwardly wave to each other in the rare occasions that they passed in the hallway. Encounter in the hall, exchange eye contact, make an attempt at a wave, consider talking but just continue onward. This continued on for several weeks. A month almost.

Meanwhile, the Ravenscar considered if he had made the right decision by agreeing to the date. Even a blind man could see that the witch still harbored females for the redhead he had fallen head over heels for. But the cycle of breaking up and making up, came to an end. Their story came to a cliff and left the recipients hanging by their fingers. But months ago, Carter had grown tired and couldn’t hang on anymore, leaving him in emotional distress. Something that was foreign to him,

Why, oh why, couldn’t he just go back to being the condescending prick that kept everyone at arms length?

That wall had been destroyed now, as much as he hated it. Now the only option was to move on. And Ephraima had asked him out, so the answer seemed obvious. Which was why he first agreed. But these foreign feelings kept holding him back. It was like he was betraying Maia, but they weren’t a thing anymore...so why? Why did he still feel this way? Several self-proclaimed ‘relationship experts’ in the physics department informed him that it was just best to move on and date someone else. So after weeks of fighting himself, he finally found the motivation to bring it back up to her.

So Thursday night, he stopped by her room and dropped a note under her door asking about going on a date the following evening. And shortly after, while he was in the middle of a heated League of Legends battle, a slip of paper confirming the date appeared under the door.

Now, here he stood, in front of her door, wearing a plaid shirt and some jeans with two pizza boxes in his hands. He rapped on the door in a strange, five beat pattern, before taking a step back. Once it opened, he gave a small smile. “Hey, I didn’t know what type of pizza you wanted, so I kind of got four different types of pizza.”