angel baby (heavy editing)

42

    (A/N: hold on. Hold the fuck onnnnnnn. So like I came back to over 7k readsssss. What the fuckkk? I'm legit screaming.  I'm not supposed to update until Tuesday but I couldn't help it. I cannot express how thankful I am. I started writing this book with no expectation in mind or rather with little expectation in mind and
I was informed that my book was #16 on the bisexual tagggggg yesterday. I'm screaming. Thank you. Thank you sooooo much :))) The next time I update which is on Tuesday, I should be completely done with the book) 

   Oliver walked with Chris who held his hand tightly. Chris had stick to him like glue since the day before after his panic attack and while he would have been bothered before, he liked Chris's hand in his. He was starting to realize he liked Chris. A lot. 
Would you look at that?
Right now, they were walking towards Oliver's surprise. Inconveniently, cars couldn't get to the "surprise" so Oliver had to park at the entrance. He wasn't worried something would happen to his car since it was looked after by the the security guards and had to pay a ridiculous amount of money. Besides, one look at him from the guards at the station had put his mind at rest. A tighter squeeze to his hand had him turning. Chris looked a bit wary which was understandable. They had been walking on a single trail for a good five minutes and it was a new environment. Oliver realized, then, the amount of trust Chris was putting in him. He really hoped he liked his surprise. A dreadful thought passed through him that he might not but he wouldn't dwell on that and hope for the best.
      Finally, Oliver saw the dried leaves that looked like curtains, outdoor curtains that served as a door or bridge to probably the most beautiful place he had ever seen in his life. He pulled Chris along and pulled apart the leaves as they both stepped in  and before them lay the world of wonder.
The gasp that escaped Chris was the first proof that he would like it because Oliver himself, who had been there a few times was still in awe about how unreal and surreal the place looked. He watched Chris looked around taking in the scenery.
     It was a lake house, in a manner of speaking, in the normal sense of the word. A medium sized lake laid distance away from where they stood but what was really medium? The two speedboats near the shore said otherwise though.
It looked like a forest, a beautiful forest that housed the most exotic plants. Plants whose seeds Oliver knew were hard to acquire and took hard work and years of experience on the part of expert to grow. Even the skies and clouds there looked different or perhaps he was just being sentimental. One couldn't really tell from the distance they stood but the water sparkled that it looked as if it was filled with crystals. Oliver wouldn't put his mother past that. He wouldn't. His maternal grandmother had painted this place before she passed away. It was her last painting. His mother had gone through every length to bring it to life. She spent an amount he couldn't possibly repeat and still did maintaining it but he could admit it was well worth it. If the look on Chris's face (which showed he was intrigued) was awed now, he couldn't wait to see his face when they enter the house that houses his grandmother's best paintings and the, honest to God, best interior design. Maybe he would bring Lia hear one day. 
"You like?" He asked Chris who still looked like he was in trance. But he heard Oliver and turned to face Oliver a smile on his face. That smile did funny things to Oliver's insides.
He was down bad.
Chris nodded. He let out a breathe of relief he didn't know he was holding.
Fuck.
"Should we go inside now? It's kind of cold"
And it was. Winter was coming which was one of the reasons Oliver wanted to bring Chris here in time. One of the downsides of this place was that it was almost inhabitable during winter when it was snowing. The lake froze up and the plants were at their worst botanically. Any little thing could kill them. This place was his mother's treasure. He was almost surprised (and not surprised because it was about Chris) that she had eagerly agreed.
"Okay but promise we'll come out here later"
There were going to spend a few days here so he nodded and together they walked towards the front door. Oliver wasn't worried it would be dusty or something since an housekeeper came thrice a week to clean up. Again, it was his mother's treasure.
Oliver entered the house and Chris followed instantly relived to be in heat. He dropped his backpack that housed the food they would be eating and his hand bag that contained his and Chris's clothes. They were being almost...domestic but he quickly shook the thought from his head. He wouldn't think about it. Oliver couldn't cook for shit but thankfully Chris could.
And liked be guessed, Chris immediately noticed the paintings and gaped at it.
The master is better than the servant.
The statement was true in regards to his grandmother and mother. His grandmother was the true definition of talent. It was a little sad that her paintings only got the public recognition it deserved after her passing.
"I'm going to freshen up. You can go after me"
But Chris was long gone.
There were three bedrooms and three bathrooms but Oliver had every intention of making sure Chris and him ended up in the same room. Chris hadn't showed any indication that he liked Oliver like that. Sure he was very clingy but that explained nothing. He hadn't mentioned the kiss that night. He wasn't even sure Chris remembered. Realizing he had been standing there looking like a creep, he quickly walked up the stairs to get ready for the next few days.
       Later, Chris had finally teared his eyes off from the numerous paintings and had made potpie. Oliver honestly wasn't expecting such an elaborate meal (which had tasted really good) on their first night here. Oliver also noticed that Chris wasn't clumsy. Hell, he was even more clumsy. One of the symptoms that someone could have Asperger's was clumsiness but more and more everyday, he was realizing it was different for every autistic person. Like the food staring thing Chris did was just his own common habit and might now be associated to his autism. He wanted to learn everything, for Chris. His food suddenly felt too hard to swallow.
The moment Chris dropped his cutlery,
"I'm going to check out more of the paintings"
He was already on his feet and was leaving the small dining area before Oliver could blink. He smiled scoffing.
Cute.
The main reason he brought Chris here was to help with his healing process but also enable them to spend more time together but that wouldn't be happening soon.
He stood from his chair and walked towards the living room. Even this room was cool because one could see a side of the lake through the see through door glass. And now that it was late, it was magical. He could see Chris painting this right then, that moment.
He shook his head. He shouldn't think about Chris that much. It was becoming obsession.
He took out his phone and looked through it. Oliver didn't have many hobbies. He could say he had none. He also didn't have any friends. The only person that people could consider his friend, Jacob had not spoken to him in nearly a month. He'd feel bad if he cared but it was still sad he had no friends. If not because of the money he had and his pretty face, he would be the most unremarkable and uninteresting person to ever walk this earth. He didn't play any sports, wasn't even interested in one. He didn't have any remarkable talent. That hurt. He felt like a loser and he needed to talk to someone before he completely lost it. Maybe the incidents of the past few weeks was affecting him more than he was letting on.
He scrolled through his phone looking for someone, anyone to talk to. The activity was depressing on its own. His eyes finally landed on a name.
Paul.
He and Paul hadn't spoken since Paul broke up with him, almost two months ago. It seemed short but also felt like almost a lifetime ago.
Talking to an ex was better than getting lost in his thoughts.
He started to type.

           Oliver: when we were together, I sucked, didn't I?
           He waited minutes for a reply and was almost surprised when he got one. He and Paul hadn't ended on bad terms but they hadn't ended on particularly good terms either.
           Paul (he had long removed the emojis that sexualized him but Paul was cool with it): oh you did. You sucked well. Gave the best blowjobs I have ever had.
     Oliver would have choked on his spit if he hadn't known how vulgar Paul could get.
     His chat showed typing again from Paul's side before he could reply.
              Paul: But seriously, you didn't, not really. I knew what I was signing up for. You're rich, spoilt and a typical example of a fuck boy but you didn't suck. At least not to me. So who's got your panties up in a twist and made you question your life's choices at eight pm in the evening?

Chris. Chris had his panties in a twist but he wouldn't tell Paul that.
                Oliver: no one. I was just asking.
The reply was instant.
                 Paul: it's that boy, Chris, isn't it? Your birth mother's son?
Oliver winced hating the way that statement looked.
                 Paul: you're in love with him.

Oliver froze sighting those words  It wasn't a statement. Paul wrote it as a matter of fact.
Love? Love? Love? What the fuck?
He began to furiously type a reply to Paul intending to deny his bizarre assessments when he heard that loud scream that had him throwing his phone nowhere and running towards where he hoped Chris would be.
Please be okay.