Work Text:
It isn’t until the leaves grow back and outside his windows and everything turns to Spring here in the Capitol that Carson finally gets used to having a floormate. For so long it has been just him, here alone on floor 6, that he often forgets that there’s now another Victor here alongside him.
He’s so used to the memories of the first year. The year when his footsteps down the marble hallways of floor 6 echoed just a little bit louder, the rooms all seemed a little bit bigger. Either Carson has begun to grow into the space he will spend out the rest of his life in, or it just feels a little bit fuller with a second member.
It was hard for Carson to get adjusted to having a roommate in the beginning. It isn’t that it was hard sharing the space with someone or anything like that, it was just hard because he’d grown so used to the idea of being alone here, trapped to wander these rooms with no one else, that the mere thought of there being a second person here feels almost unnatural. For so long it’s been just him.
He gets so startled sometimes walking into a room and seeing Noah in there that he begins to panic. He doesn’t panic because of any ill-will towards Noah, but rather because of the fact that he no longer lives here in solitude. Only in those moments does it all come pouring back on him that Noah is here to stay, he’ll never have to face it all by himself again.
There was one time that Carson walked into the lounge to find Noah bundled up on the couch reading a book. So caught off guard by the remembrance that this place was no longer empty except for him, and the relief at having company on the floor, Carson began to weep. He couldn’t help it, but everything in that moment came crashing down on him in an instant as it had many times before, but this time in front of another.
He is no longer alone.
Carson remembers the startled look on Noah’s face, his approach and the hand he placed on Carson’s shoulder in comfort. He could see it in Noah’s eyes, the understanding of what was happening and why Carson was crying and that desire to help him any way he could.
Carson doesn’t think he’ll ever find the words to express how grateful he is for Noah. His silent yet somehow commanding gait, his patience, his friendship. Carson couldn’t have asked for a better sixty-first Victor.
On this particular morning in May, it isn’t the singing of the spring-time birds that wakes Carson, but rather the overwhelming smell of something sticky sweet in the air. He comes to consciousness slowly, at first thinking the smell is somehow a part of his dream, wiping the sleep from his eyes with every stage.
Finally, once he realizes that the smell is very much real and not something of his sleeping mind, Carson rises out of bed and pulls on his robe. It isn’t very often that Carson sleeps in his bedroom, he usually ends up falling asleep on the couch in the lounge playing a video game. He sleeps better there, he’s realized, instead of cooped up in this sterilized imitation of a bedroom. Something about the living space, the area where he talks to his friend and where any good memory that’s ever taken place on this floor was shared, is so much more comforting than his cold, blank bedroom.
As Carson makes his way from his room into the hall, he realizes the smell is coming from the kitchen.
When Carson steps into the kitchen, he is met with the sight of Noah’s back turned to him, the other boy leaning over the counter looking down at something.
“Noah?” Carson asks, not wanting to sneak up behind him and startle him. They both can be rather jumpy.
Noah turns around and smiles.
There’s something blue sitting on the counter and Carson walks up to get a better look.
“Happy birthday, Carson,” Noah says as Carson realizes what the thing on the counter is.
It’s a cake. A birthday cake.
It’s not a pretty cake by any means. It’s lopsided and the color is all uneven and the icing is pretty runny. In shakey letters on top, Happy Birthday is written in navy, with fourteen little candles surrounding it.
“Sorry it’s not very good,” Noah says. “I’ve never made a cake before and I think I messed up the recipe somehow. Not to mention the fact that I can’t ice this thing for shit.” He pauses for a moment and looks up from the ground at the younger boy. “Why are you crying?”
Carson reaches up to his face and realizes Noah is right. He is crying. He didn’t even notice.
“I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry,” he sniffles and wipes at his face. “I just really like it.”
Carson catches something like relief on Noah’s face and smiles at him.
“Okay,” Noah laughs. “I thought you hated it.”
“Of course not, I love it. Thank you.”
Noah let’s one of the avoxes light the birthday candles (they’re not allowed to have matches, playing with fire is a little too dangerous for the Capitol’s taste.) They don’t bother to sing happy birthday, even though there’s two of them here, something about just one person singing the celebratory song doesn’t sit right with either of them.
Noah cuts them each a slice of cake and hands Carson a fork. It’s as Carson is biting into the cake that he remembers his first birthday here in the Tower, the year he turned thirteen. It seems so long ago, decades ago rather than just a measly year. He didn’t even realize then that it was his birthday until he booted up his stream and saw the chat was spamming nothing but happy birthday messages.
(He only cried once the stream was over, pulling his knees to his chest, curling up in his chair. It was his first birthday without his family, without his friends, without anybody at all. What are the well-wishes of internet strangers supposed to mean anyway with all their empty words and when there’s no one really here at all to actually celebrate?)
Loneliness takes its toll.
The cake Noah made is slightly burnt, but Carson appreciates it even more for that fact. They can have any food they want here, any dish they so desire, all they have to do is order it up and an avox will bring it to them on a pristine platter. They can have anything they want, all they have to do is ask.
But it’s the lengths that Noah went to to make this cake that is what brings Carson to tears. The effort put into baking and decorating, realizing that that which is personal will far exceed any immaculate gift the Capitol will ever be able to provide.
It’s so great to finally have someone here to help Carson fill these halls, someone to share laughter and birthday cake with. Someone who cares. So great to finally have a friend.
Later they will have to dress up for the Capitol presented birthday gala for the rest of the Capitol to coo over and for the Districts to pretend they give a damn about, but for now, sitting beside Noah eating homemade birthday cake, something inside of Carson tells him that for the time being, he’s going to be alright.