This isn’t a cutesy ‘you stole the covers in the night’ kind of fight. It’s not even a ‘you backed out of our plans again’ fight.
No. This is a, “If you’re so damn unhappy, why don’t you just leave?”
It’s a, “Maybe I will.”
A, “Maybe you should.”
I will,” Connor says again, because he doesn’t want Oliver to mean it.
If he gives him a chance, maybe he’ll say something else. Anything else.
Take it back. Please take it back.
crosses his arms over his chest. The glare he’s giving Connor softens
for only a moment before hardening again. “You said that already.”
stomach ties into knots. This is why you don’t love. You don’t trust.
You don’t bare your soul to anyone. They just throw it right back.
Dirty. Worthless. Broken.
arms unhook. His eyes widen. “Connor.” He takes a step forward but
stops when Connor backs away so fast he hits the wall.
isn’t until Oliver reaches up a hand toward Connor’s face, stopping
halfway, that he realizes his eyes might have tears in them. He blinks
them back behind a well-trained facade.
Oliver doesn’t want him? Fine. Fine. That’s totally fine. He can handle that. He’s never let rejection get to him before.
But he’s never really loved like this before.
He’ll make sure he never loves like this again.