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Won't tell anybody that you turn the world around
I won't tell anyone that your voice is my favorite sound
I won't tell anybody, won't tell anybody
-Parachute, Ingrid Michaelson
The night before the coronation, Carlos can’t sleep.
He tosses and turns and readjusts his pillows, but it feels as though the weight of a thousand bricks is pressing down on his chest, and he can’t breathe. Because he knows that what they’re going to do tomorrow – him, Jay, Evie and Mal – is wrong. He knows that what they are going to do is ruin the lives of the people of Auradon, and that terrifies him.
Before this, before coming to Auradon, he’d never had a conscience. Why would he? He was the son of Cruella De Vil, a woman who had stolen a hundred and one Dalmatians with the intent of making them into fur coats. Carlos was the son of a woman who cared little more for anything beyond her fur coats and her nails; he grew with her sharp words in his ears and her hands slashing into his skin. He grew up hearing about how the people who had locked her away here must pay for everything that they had done – and how he, as her son, had a rightful duty to defend her honor and carry out her plans.
Carlos grew up without a conscience, and now, with coils of anxiety and dread twisting in his middle, he doesn’t know how most people stand it. He was born to fulfill his mother’s destiny, but now, he doesn’t want to do it. He doesn’t want to do anything for her anymore. For the first time in his life, he is free from the woman who has made his life a living hell for every second he’s been on this earth.
He knows that in other households on the Isle of the Lost, abused children are common. He doesn’t know why the people of Auradon would condemn them to that; they aren’t their parents, and leaving children on a literal island of evil would only insure than they would grow up to be evil themselves. Now, Carlos knows that out of his little group of friends, Evie was the only one who had escaped parental torture – and he was the only one whose parent had restored to physical abuse.
Carlos had often wondered if all parents were like that. Now, on Auradon, he had realized that parents aren’t supposed to be like that; parents are supposed to be wonderful and kind and brave and protective.
He doesn’t know anyone on the island who was raised by loving parents (if they were lucky enough to have two parents) save Evie and her semi-caring mother, but he does know that he was one of the ones that got the worst of it.
Carlos rolls over on the bed for the umpteenth time, his foot accidentally brushing against Dude’s belly. The dog lets out a sharp bark is response, and Carlos winces. “Sorry, Dude,” he whispers, doing his best not to wake Jay up on the other bed.
But it seems as though his small effort was for nothing, because out of the corner of his eye, Carlos sees the other boy sit up. Even from across the room, Carlos can see the lack of sleep in Jay’s eyes – which means he hadn’t been able to get any rest either.
“You too?” Carlos offers, tilting his head to the side as he sits up too, pulling his legs into a crisscrossed position. He really has to stop thinking about deep and dark emotional issues during the midnight hours.
Jay gives him a sharp nod, rolling his head back. Carlos watches as the other boy pulls his legs out from under the covers, moonlight flickering over Jay’s bare chest; Carlos purposefully jerks his gaze down to the bedspread, watching as Dude licks his paw instead. Even so, he can feel heat spreading on the tips of his ears.
Jay leans back against his headboard, arms moving up behind him as a cushioning tool. Carlos looks back up, meeting the dark-haired boy’s quiet gaze: “Y’know,” Carlos starts, keeping his voice soft, “did you ever think it would end up like this?”
For a moment, Jay is silent. But then: “No,” he admits, and Carlos can feel something flourish in his chest – relief maybe, that he’s not alone in his mental torture. “I didn’t think–“ Jay stops then, his gaze darting around the room. “I didn’t think that I would care so much.”
Carlos looks back down at his comforter again, reaching a hand out to brush Dude’s belly. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Me neither.”
He doesn’t know how much time passes after that, but the room is filled with a steady silence as Carlos runs his hand along Dude’s fur. He takes a deep breath, something that he hasn’t been able to do in a long time, and it feels wonderful compared to the panic he’s been feeling in his chest since trying to fall asleep earlier that evening – or, he should probably say yesterday, considering that the ticking clock on his bedsides reads 2:47 a.m.
The silence between them is broken then by the rustle of a bedspread; Jay’s stepping out of the other bed, his feet making little noise on the wood as he crosses the floor. Carlos watches, his fingers curling into the sheets as anxiety and anticipation pool in his stomach. But Jay stops in front of the large window between their beds and reaches out, throwing the curtains aside.
Light spills across Jay, illuminating the boy’s torso and revealing him to be only wearing a pair of dark boxer shorts. Carlos dips his gaze down again, just like before – but after a moment, so unlike earlier, he steals a glance up, sweeping his gaze along Jay’s form.
When Carlos meets the other boy’s eyes, he can see Jay’s raised eyebrows. “Like what you see?” Jay teases, his mouth curving into a steady smile. Carlos can feel his eyes widen as heat spreads across his cheeks, his gaze flickering to the ground once more.
After a moment though, Carlos hears the footsteps again. This time, however, they’re coming closer to him rather than back to Jay’s bed; Carlos looks up, only to see the other boy standing beside the foot of his bed.
Jay makes a mock gesture: a simple sweep of his hand, a may I? It’s a gesture that Carlos has seen each of the princes make a thousand times and knows Jay is making fun of it, but he’s never seen it in any sort of setting like this, and never on Jay; it looks odd on the son of Jafar, with his eyebrows raised and his mouth curved into a mischievous – if Carlos didn’t know any better, he’d say flirtatious – smile.
Carlos nods, shifting over on the covers. Jay rolls onto the bed, bumping into Dude; the dog looks up, wagging his tail as Jay scratches his ear as an apology.
Jay drops his head onto the pillow then, curling one arm upward and resting his hand underneath his head; it’s a reflex, Carlos realizes, a memory from a time when we didn’t have any pillows. The bed is plenty large enough for the two of them (so unlike his mattress back on the island) but Carlos can feel himself scooting over until there’s several inches of space between them.
He knows that what he feels for Jay isn’t – well, it isn’t like he should. On the island, it was dangerous to form attachments, regardless of whom they were for. But Carlos knows that here, on Auradon, a crush is seen a crush. If he wanted to – if he had the courage to – he could ask Jay out without being judged. But he doesn’t have courage or strength to do anything of the sort, so he supposes that he is destined to keep silent and try to simply will his feelings away.
Jay shifts his head to the side, turning his focus towards Carlos; Dude is curled up by their feet now, providing a rather nice foot warmer, but Carlos’ can’t feel anything other than Jay’s steady gaze on him. He shifts under the other boy’s quiet scrutiny.
“What?” Carlos finally asks, the edge of his voice a little too sharp. He regrets it immediately when Jay turns his head back towards the ceiling, looking at the Auradon prep logo painted there with a face void of emotion.
“Do you–“ Jay starts with, but then he hesitates, his eyebrows creasing. “Do you ever wonder what would’ve been like if we had been born here? Not on the island?”
Carlos’ hands curl into his fists by his side, his nails digging into his palms. “I think – I think that everything happens for a reason,” he hurries, knowing his explanation sounds like complete and utter crap.
Sure enough Jay snorts; Carlos steals a glance, and the other boy has turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. “You mean like fate and all that stuff?”
“Sort of,” Carlos replies. “But I mean – I just think that if we were born here, we’d be completely different people. If we‘d been born here, none of us probably would have ever met. We probably would’ve grown up good, with no need to steal and lie and – protect each other.”
Jay turns his head back towards the celling, and his next words are so quiet that Carlos has to strain his ears to hear him. “I don’t know what kind of fate would force us to grow up in that hell,” Jay whispers, and Carlos’ breath hitches. Without thinking, he reaches out, pressing his palm against Jay’s.
However, then his brain kicks in; Carlos jerks his hand back, heat flashing across his cheeks. “Sorry,” he starts, but then Jay reaches out and grasps Carlos’ hand again.
Carlos feels as though his heart has stuttered to a stop as he watches Jay curl their fingers together. Jay’s palm feels warm against his, and Carlos locks his gaze with the other boy’s, hazel eyes meeting chocolate-colored ones.
“It’s alright,” Jay says, the corners of his mouth curling into a soft smile, but Carlos simply stares back at him; the room is quiet, with only the sound of wind tapping on the windows, but it feels as though there’s a thousand different thoughts running around his head at the moment, distracting him.
Carlos closes his eyes, trying to force himself to retain the illusion of calm. But when he opens them again, Jay is still staring at him. The other boy shrugs, squeezing his hand in Carlos’ lightly before releasing their grip. Carlos feels the loss of warmth instantly, and he swallows thickly before uncrossing his legs and mirroring Jay’s form, lying back down on the bed.
He lies there for the longest time, just starting up at the ceiling, his heart pounding in his chest and his throat dry. Even after Jay falls asleep – Carlos can hear the little puffs of air the other boy makes – Carlos still lays there, his gaze drifting to the rise and fall of Jay’s chest.
Carlos doesn’t know what it means, and he hates not knowing what things mean.
He bites his lip to prevent a groan from slipping out.
//
Carlos wakes to sunlight washing over his face, and he blinks slowly, his body blanketed in an unusual warmth.
His eyes fly open and his breathing stills as he becomes aware of the rather…compromising position that he’s in.
They’re facing each other, their bodies closer than Carlos’ has ever been to the other boy; Jay’s fingers are splayed lightly over Carlos’ hip, their legs tangled together in the sheets. If Carlos just strained his neck a bit more, he’d be able to press his lips against Jay’s.
He thinks about it. He really, really thinks about it. Carlos lies there for an unknown amount of time, mentally making a pros and cons list for what he desperately wants to do.
But then Jay stirs, and Carlos becomes the coward his mother tells him that he is, shrinking away and slipping out from underneath the other boy’s grip. He twists off the bed clumsily, his feet hitting the floor with more force than he’d intended. Carlos holds his breath, his eyes darting to Jay’s form – miraculously, the other boy is still asleep, unaware of the position that he had been in just moments ago.
Carlos shakes his head, forcing a shaky breath from his lungs. He turns, running a hand through his hair, trying to stop that unsettling feeling that is curled up in his middle.
He swallows, turning towards the closet. He’d deal with all of – this, later. Carlos didn’t have any time to linger on his emotions towards Jay. Right now, it was time to go and meet Mal and Evie, to finalize the details of their plan.
And then, of course, they’d go unleash hell among the world.
He’d deal with feelings later.