mikey has news about prenoma!carmy’s high school crush.
enzo’s
carmen reads the name across the right portion of his chest, red cursive letters he sees plastered everywhere from his (mikey’s while he figures out a ride for himself) car to the hat pressing his curls down atop of his head. he checks his shirt in his mirror for wrinkles, smoothing any creases he notices, the same motion he engages in for his jeans. he doesn’t want to attend work dressed like an asshole, with some kind of stain already visible since that’s what you got on carlo on for last week.
the idea of disappointing you is mortifying. the least he can do is fix his uniform and lessen the imperfections so you’ll be kind in your observations, not that you haven’t.
and maybe’s because you told him he looked nice in red the other day. he doesn’t own a lot of pieces in that color. it’s just his work uniform. so if this is what you like, then this will have to do.
he needs to buy a red shirt or something because that sounds so fucking lame the more he mulls it over to himself. he’s glad no one can read his mind in this moment, or any.
carmen startles as the door comes open with a late knock onto it. his head whips up from his reflection, attempting to turn away from the mirror in an instant. it’s completely normal to adjust his appearance, but something in him feels caught knowing he was doing so with someone in particular in mind. there he goes again. thinking everyone will laugh if he unveils the telling elements of his scattered mind.
“yo, sorry, i shouldn’t’ve barged in,” mikey says, chuckling gently as he sees carmen’s tense shoulders.
weirdly enough, carmen feels some of his tension escape knowing it’s mikey.
“s’fine. i didn’t lock the door,” carmen replies.
mikey nods and looks around carmen’s clean room. he then looks at carmen, smiling to himself as he takes in the black shirt and the matching hat. a real working man, his younger brother. it’s not exactly a big bucks kind of gig, but he likes that carmen is insistent on pursuing something.
“goin’ in today? on a sunday?”
carmen goes to rub the back of his head, pausing as he feels his tamed hair and the dome of his hat. he awkwardly drops his hand as a result.
“y-yeah. uh… she called ‘cause they’re short-staffed, so… i’m gettin’ overtime.”
“who called?”
but mikey knows before carmen says your name. mikey lets a small smile overtake his mouth as he regards carmen. he’s not exactly sure how you and carmen have been as of late, but he does know how much more carmen’s out. mikey’s connected how you always seem to be part of where carmen’s going.
rides. your house. your father’s restaurant. you’re linked.
“ah… least your paycheck will look nice.”
carmen grins.
“uh huh. s’nice to have money outside of borrowin’ it from you and sugar.”
being the youngest sibling comes with its perks. it’s gratifying, however, to have something that’s his, something he worked for on his own. it’s not a hand-me-down, it’s not from mikey’s savings, it’s not natalie’s worried, pity cash. it’s not his mom’s conditional loan.
“good; c’mere. need to talk to you, freeloader.”
carmen breathes an amused exhale through his nose as mikey enters his space further. he sits down at the edge of his bed next to mikey as he’s done many times in the past.
like when mikey told him their hamster died when carmen was around eight. or when mikey lectured him about trying to sneak out. it wasn’t carmen’s proudest moment. especially explaining to mikey he was sneaking out to hang out with fak of all people. mikey might’ve given him more grace if he was trying to go to an unsupervised party.
“about?”
“… don’t flip out, okay?”
carmen tenses back up in three seconds. mikey saying something like that is all the more reason in itself to flip out. carmen’s older brother knows him well so this must mean he’s about to say something that’s going to put carmen on the defense or mess with his nerves.
or both.
“what? what do y’mean?”
mikey realizes his mistake and lifts his hands in a placating gesture.
“this is a good thing. it’s really good, actually.”
but the lack of context does nothing to appease carmen. his leg starts to bounce as he observes mikey accordingly.
“can you just say it?”
because carmen’s anxiety tends to overshoot the idea of a threat despite it possibly being minimal. then again, it’s a defense mechanism. the berzattos aren’t exactly known for calm and peace and things being settling.
“okay,” mikey relents. he inhales a deep breath and then turns to look at carmen.
“i talked to claire this morning.”
oh… claire. carmen’s stupid crush from high school. mikey was right to preface his admission with the warning, not that it prevented carmen’s spike in increasing anxiousness.
“… what for?” carmen asks tentatively.
“we caught up a little. she asked for you.”
carmen straightens up where he sits. mikey, of course, notices the shift in posture. which in turn makes carmen mildly curse himself inside. it’s hard to get anything past mikey.
“she did?”
“uh huh.”
“and you’re not like fuckin’ with me?”
mikey laughs. carmen’s consistent skepticism is predictable and perhaps unfounded. if anything at all, mikey wants what’s best for carmen. it’s just that carmen has a difficult time seeing outside of the shadow he’s put himself under. or maybe life. mikey understands that sometimes.
“no. in fact,” he nudges carmen’s arm with his.
“i got you a date.”
at that, carmen shoots up from his bed. he stands and looks at mikey in complete, utter disbelief. three seconds of shocked gawking and then three seconds of his eyebrows furrowing inwards.
“you’re fuckin’ with me.”
mikey huffs. carmen said that like it was a solid truth. mikey then shakes his head back and forth, pushing off the mattress as he attempts to defend himself.
“i’m not fuckin’ with you.”
“you are, and it’s not funny. what? this richie’s idea or yours?”
“carm.”
“chi-chi?”
“carmen,” mikey states as he sets his hands down onto carmen’s shoulders. the weight of his palms ease carmen’s tension down by applied, gentle, caring force. it quite literally brings carmen back down to earth.
“it’s not a joke. i got you a date with claire and you’re goin’ to see her this comin’ saturday at a party.”
carmen swallows thickly as mikey lays out the plan he didn’t agree to. saturday is only six fucking days away, is he crazy?
“why did you do that?” he husks.
“what, look out for you?” mikey utters sarcastically with a scoff. he groans as carmen pushes his hands off his shoulders.
“i didn’t t-tell you to do any of that. i don’t need you settin’ me up with anyone,” carmen stammers.
“carmen, i need you to chill the fuck out.”
carmen forgets about his hat until it falls to the floor once he attempts to run a hand through his hair. his curls appear, unruly and greasy as he fidgets in front of mikey.
“chill out? i have a date i didn’t even know about!” he exclaims.
“i… i-i-i-i haven’t even been on a date before, i don’t… i’m not ready. i’m, i’m not ready, mike. i don’t know what i’d say or do or how to talk to her—i haven’t seen her since high school!”
mikey sighs as carmen stumbles his way through his excuses. he crosses his arms, patiently watching as carmen struggles to voice the abundant concerns circling his head.
“this is so, so, so fucked. did you do this to laugh at me? embarrass me? i… shit, she didn’t ask for me, did she? not really. not her. she… she, she never saw me like that, i don’t…”
the more carmen loses the plot, the more mikey steps closer. he places his hand again on carmen’s shoulder. carmen’s head whips up, looking at mikey… with genuine fear and the need for guidance. if mikey was able, he’d erase that innate inclination in carmen to approach everything with trepidation.
“she said she missed you and wants to catch up. it’s a real date. no one’s fuckin’ around, ‘specially not me, not about this.”
carmen’s mouth goes dry as mikey lays out the very aspects that terrify the fuck out of him. he opens and closes his mouth.
“… she said it was a date?”
“well, she said she needed a date for the party, so same shit.”
carmen’s face must give away the uncertainty coursing through him because mikey gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. it doesn’t exactly sound right, but carmen’s never been on a date to compare it to anything. unless he counts climbing your tree and sitting up on a branch with you when you were kids.
“you don’t have to freak out, man,” mikey says and breaks the unintended silence. carmen didn’t, and still doesn’t, know how to respond.
“she’s just a pretty four-eyed girl with a lisp. less intimidatin’ now?”
carmen knows what mikey’s trying to do. he’s annoyed that mikey would refer to these attributes about his ex crush like that, but it does help him breathe a little easier.
she’s human. she’s not something to fear. carmen reads mikey’s message loud and clear.
“… okay… if… if you thi—i-i can handle it,” carmen blurts, catching himself in time. he doesn’t want to hear another speech from mikey about confidence and not basing his assumptions on what others think.
mikey’s smile genuinely extends and he claps his hand on carmen’s shoulder a few times.
“yes you can. i’ll send her a text. her phone’s broken so she gave me her friend’s.”
mikey steps away from carmen and points at him.
“everything’s goin’ to be fine!”
and then he’s out the door as carmen feels a myriad of emotions hit him all at once.
he’s scared, he’s irritated, he’s… excited. the date is so close, so impending and daunting and frightening, but he can’t help but be swayed by the idea of claire. he still has his old drawings of her, somewhere he can’t remember right now, and he feels sheepish for it. he can’t tell her about that, not anyone if he doesn’t want to be judged.
the only person who comes to his head, who wouldn’t give him flack, is…
it occurs to carmen he’s completely out of his element the more he thinks about what’s to come. he’s unsure how to approach this, what to wear, what to talk about, and he also can’t think of something to pull him out of this mess without upsetting mikey or letting him down. carmen’s never even kissed a girl. and what if that’s what claire wants? he’s going to look like a fucking idiot, no matter which way he warps it.
he picks up his hat from the floor and holds its rim as he sits back down onto his bed. at the same time, he retrieves his phone from his pocket. he does the only sensible thing that comes to his head, the only coherent one he manages. after briefly rummaging through his recent calls, he finds the contact he needs, and then he nervously drums his fingers on the hat rim as he hears the line ringing.
“hey, carmy, what’s up?” you ask, voice cheery somehow despite the background noise of the restaurant that carries in a dull thrum to his ear.
“you’re still coming, right?”
“yeah… yeah, i am,” he mumbles.
“but… uh… i need your help with something.”