Oliver x Reader || tpn fanfiction

Chatper 21 - Restock

Y/N pov

Oliver's restless pacing in our room seemed never-ending. I couldn't tell how long he'd been at it. Despite his fever, he showed no signs of slowing down or collapsing into bed.

"Watch out for the broken glass," I warned him as he turned around, continuing his restless march.

"He can't do that!" Oliver cursed loudly. Ah, yes, he was still fixated on the whole "not participating in most hunts" situation. My mind wandered off, no longer able to keep up with his incessant rant.

I let out a deep sigh and ran my hand over my face, feeling exasperated with Oliver's outburst. I had reached my limit, utterly done with his relentless complaints.

"Oh my god," I muttered under my breath, the frustration evident in my voice. My lack of sleep from the previous night, spent caring for Oliver while he had a fever, was taking its toll. I couldn't even remember if he was still feverish or not. The headache that had been threatening to surface finally made its presence known.

"He dragged us into agreeing to this nonsense! He's not genuinely concerned; he just wants control. We should have a say in this. It's our lives, and I won't let him make decisions for me. I never asked him to!" Oliver continued to rant, his voice echoing throughout the house as if he was talking to himself.

I desperately wanted him to stop yelling. All I wanted was some rest, but Oliver's tirade showed no signs of abating. My patience was wearing thin, and the need for sleep was growing stronger with every passing second.

"What's next? I won't even be allowed to breathe without his permission?!" Oliver's words reached a fever pitch, but it sounded more like he was fighting his inner demons than engaging with me.

I needed to find a way to silence him, to bring some peace to this moment. But how could I get him to calm down? My head was pounding, and all I wanted was some quiet and sleep. The combination of exhaustion and frustration was making it difficult to think straight, and I longed for a moment of respite.

"You are not angry about the fact he tries to keep us away from danger. You are mad because you feel guilty. Like you are being a bother."

Oliver's restless pacing came to an abrupt halt as he stared directly at me, his eyes filled with shock and confusion. "What?" he managed to form with his lips, but the words seemed caught in his throat.

Mission 1: accomplished. I had successfully redirected his anger and made him contemplate his underlying emotions, which seemed to stem from feelings of guilt and a fear of being a burden.

"You're not angry about the fact that Lucas is trying to keep us away from danger. You're mad because you feel guilty, like you're being a bother," I asserted, hoping my words would strike a chord with him.

Oliver stayed silent for a moment, his gaze lowered to the ground, seemingly lost in thought.

"It's like a reward for a mistake, and our comrades get punished," I continued, elaborating on my theory, even though I wasn't entirely sure where it was leading. It was just random thoughts, but somehow they seemed to resonate with him.

"B-but isn't it exactly that way?" Oliver finally spoke, his voice shaky and uncertain.

I pressed further, gently probing his feelings. "How much do you trust our comrades?" I asked.

"With every part of my body," he replied without hesitation, his unwavering belief in our comrades evident.

"You trust them with your life?" I emphasized the 'your,' wanting him to consider their autonomy.