1.1 | daunting medleys

thirty-eight | lowercase

Oliver knew he blushed easily, overthought easily, would spiral into panic attacks and messy thoughts just as easily as he did when he fell in love with Tabitha. So when she hung up the call after he said a greeting to his mother, he could hear the sky lighten with thunder, almost mimicking the sound of his breaking heart, and when he looked out through the kitchen window, he saw rain droplets race down the glass.

"Anything you want to tell me?" His mother asked with a raised eyebrow. Oliver shrunk, and walked to the browned meat that'd been sizzling on the stove.

Laughing awkwardly, he shook his head. "Why would you say that Mum? Everything's peachy." And he hoped she didn't hear the crack in his voice as he stirred the meat. Oliver could his mother's eyes watching him, assessing him for a lie or anything to give away what he truly felt, and when she did. She popped her hip, and leaned on the countertop, in an attempt to coax the truth from him.

"Don't lie to me, you are very horrible at it." Oliver remained silent, and then she continued. "Tabitha asked if you were mad at her, and why would you be mad at her? I thought, and then I realized that whatever your half-brother said must have hurt you. So what did he say to you?"

Oliver's eyes burnt, and he laughed ruefully. "Nothing I haven't told myself before." He shrugged to seem uninterested or unhurt by what had been screamed at him by family, or perhaps, half family.

"Oliver.." She whispered slowly, hands coming up to cup his cheek. "What did he say to you?"

"They said I'm unworthy of everything I have." He let a tear slip out, and she wiped it immediately. Her hands were shaking, and so were his. "And her, they said I'm unworthy of Tabitha. I'm unworthy of you and everything you've given me, since I'm so ungrateful for not wanting to go with them to Massachusetts." She cleaned his tears as he spoke, and he looked up, she was crying too. Her blue eyes were rimmed with throbbing sadness and his heart was trembling.

Oliver was much taller than her, and so she stretched her hands to wipe his tears. "Listen to me carefully. You, like every other person on this Earth, deserve a home, and love, and care. No one's unworthy of the basic things for any kind of stability. You deserve it all, Oliver. You are so worthy of everything I've given you." His mother spoke assertively, as if wanting to ingrain it in his memory. The kitchen smelt nice, like meat and multiple spices but he could only smell the thick stench of heartbreak that trailed down his face.

He wrapped his hands around her, and let his tears trail down his face into her shoulder. They stood like that and Oliver pulled from her when he knew that it would start to get uncomfortable for his mother.

"Look at your pretty face, all covered in tears because of those bastards. I'll talk to your father again and tell them never to bother you again. I'll get a restraining order if I have to, and I-"

Oliver interrupted his mother's frantic ramblings with a kiss on her forehead and a low chuckle. "I know, Mama. Thank you for loving me."

She swatted his chest, and scurried to the microwave to pull out tortillas. "Don't sweet talk me, Oliver. I think there's some guacamole in the fridge, would you be a dear and bring them out?" She ordered, despite the smile that curled her lips.

Oliver did as she asked, but found the bowl that held the guacamole empty. "It's empty. Who kept the empty bowl back in the fridge?" He scoffed, and threw it in the sink.

His mother shrugged. "I guess we'll have to make some. So..." She trailed off, and Oliver instantly understood what she meant.

Chuckling, he opened the fridge and pulled out avocados, limes, tomatoes, and onions. Kissing her cheek as he passed her. "You aren't slick at all." Then Oliver heard the ding of a phone's notification, and realised it was his mother's. She washed her hands and dried it on her apron, before scurrying to her phone, incase it was an emergency at work.

Her face turned brighter, and a smile lifted her lips. "Ah." Then she turned to Oliver. "It's from your Tabitha." A blush crept up his cheeks, and he turned away from her teasing gaze. He mixed the avocados with less vigor, as her brown eyes flashed in his head, the bashful look she'd get when she was nervous or the way she fiddled with the sleeve of anything she wore. My Tabitha. The flush up his cheeks increased, and he felt like his cheeks were so hot the meat would have cooked on his cheeks.

"Would you like to see the message?" He nodded, and took the phone from her outstretched hands, and his entire face must have been red from what he read.

Tabitha ♥️

sorry for hanging up on you, Wren. my hand must have slipped. i need your help with something, i plan on apologising to Ollie, and i wanted to know if there's anything he liked so i could get it for him as an apology gift.

He looked away from the phone, but thought better of it and replied her. She typed in lowercase as well. God, she was perfect.

It's no problem, dear. Ollie likes flowers, roses specifically.

Then he gave her the phone, and mumbled an excuse before bounding up the stairs with warm cheeks. The sound of his mother's chuckle following him up to his room.

***********

With a belly stuffed with tacos and orange soda, Oliver took a shower, his hands smelling like dish soap and spiced meat. He ran a towel through his hair haphazardly, and walked to his desk to get started on homework he hadn't a chance to take care of, while having the same dopey grin on his face.