A nonny prompted wearing each other’s clothes and this is a random thing I would like from this break up hell spiral we’re in…
Keating & Co., minus Connor, are assembled at the clinic.
The students are all debating the case and strategies and Oliver’s sitting nearby. Not quite part of the group—never quite part of the group—but he’s close enough for it not to be uncomfortable.
He hasn’t been fully updated on the case but he tries to follow along, takes notes, adds the occasional quip when he sees an opening. One of his comments actually makes Wes chuckle. He looks up from his phone to smile at Oliver and it kinda makes Oliver’s morning. Maybe he is part of the group.
A round of greetings goes up when Connor slips in the door and Oliver busies himself with looking busy. He wakes up his computer and starts typing nonsense into a blank window. He tries not to listen to what is being said around him, really he does.
He meant when he’d told Connor last week. It doesn’t matter what Connor does with his life so it’s none of Oliver’s business why Connor’s late this morning. But, hearing Connor laugh warmly at something Michaela said, Oliver glances up despite himself and his stomach drops away.
Connor’s wearing his tie.
Oliver forces his eyes back on the screen in front of him but can’t see a thing. His throat feels like it’s about to close and the back of his eyes sting dangerously. He tries to focus on breathing, in and out, long and deep.
It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a tie. Yeah, but its mine.
Connor’d first borrowed it months ago. He’d been running late one morning and digging through his side of the closet, looking for a tie to throw on.
“Son of a—”
“Here,” Oliver said, holding up the slip of green silk. “Just take one of mine.”
Connor grinned, quick and deadly. “Thanks, Olls.” He put it around his neck, tying it and flipping down his shirt collar with deft fingers. Smoothing it down, he’d looked up to check in with Oliver, “You think matches my eyes?”
Oliver shot him a look. “Just go. You’re already late.”
Connor leaned in. “Not without a kiss,” he’d said, close enough that his warm breath had brushed over Oliver’s lips. “Always time for that.”
Has Connor really forgotten about that? How can Connor have forgotten that?
Oliver certainly hasn’t forgotten about that. Oliver remembers that single moment nearly every time he put on a tie, which is also why he’s come to hate wearing ties.
Did Connor wear that tie on purpose today? Did it mean something? Was he just trying to be hurtful?
No, Oliver instantly dismisses the thought. Connor isn’t like that, isn’t that cruel. He wouldn’t do something like this out of vengeance or spite. But that meant he’d probably thrown on the tie this morning without thinking and why does that thought hurt more than all the rest?
Connor hadn’t thought of him when he’d picked up the tie that morning. Connor hadn’t thought of them. Oliver still can’t even look at bacon or pancake mix in the store without thinking of Connor but Connor can just wear Oliver’s clothes without a second thought and—
At the sound of his name, Oliver’s head jerks up with a, “What?” It takes him a second too long to realize everyone is looking at him, all eyes are on him. “I’m sorry…I…I was…” he babbles out. He can’t think of anything to say, can’t breathe. Everyone, even Connor, is looking at him with mild concern and he can’t stand it for one more second. He needs to—
“The security cameras,” Laurel says and Oliver can tell she’s repeating herself but he’s grateful for the lifeline of work she seems to be throwing him. “We were saying we needed to get a hold of the security footage. Check out the guy’s alibi.”
“Right! Right, right.” Oliver nods. “Yeah, I’ll—security footage. Got it.” He shoots her what he hopes is a reassuring grin but the grin she returns is sympathetic.
Ignoring it, he turns back to the computer screens and opens a new program, determined to put all thoughts of green silk behind him.