The Education of Oliver Wood

The Aftermath

Oliver kept his breathing even as he lifted weights in the gym after practice ended. While Weathers had told him he was doing better, he still felt like he needed to catch up more. Not to mention he wasn't in any rush to go back to his empty flat.

All weekend, all he could see was the hurt in Emmie's eyes when he ran into her at the party. They hadn't spoken and it was only a few seconds before the Harpies player had dragged him off, but it was long enough for the ache in his chest to increase to a near unbearable level. He had spent the night at the seeker's, trying not to picture Emmie in his mind, but slipped out early the next morning while the woman was still asleep, disgusted with himself.

Then Sunday he spent the day either staring at the wall in his living room or lying in his bed staring at the ceiling. Every time he stepped out to use the loo or get something to drink, the shut door of his spare room taunted him. But he didn't want to go in and drown in even more memories.

He wished that Carpenter hadn't introduced him to the seeker. That he hadn't had a few drinks before going to the party. That he hadn't gone a bit heavy-handed on his drinks while there, anxious about seeing Emmie. That he hadn't kissed the seeker. He wasn't even sure why he had started snogging her in the first place. And then that they had run into Emmie at the worst possible moment.

Groaning, he put the weights aside and sat up, rubbing his face. He wasn't sure what he would have said to her if the situation had been different, but anything would have been better than her witnessing him walking out of the party with another woman on his arm. She'd probably never speak to him again now, though it wasn't as though he had much hope with that anyway. The few times they had run into each other over the years since the break-up had been short and tense.

"Did better today, Wood," Wilda said, walking up to him.

He looked over at her, noticing they were the only ones in the gym.

"Thanks," he said with a sigh.

She moved to sit on a nearby bench, her brown eyes studying him intently.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked softly.

Oliver looked over at her, a retort to stay out of his business on the tip of his tongue. But she didn't look judgmental. Just worried in a sort of motherly way. He sighed again and shook his head.

"I saw her... at the party," he said quietly, not sure just why he was opening up to Wilda. Probably because he hadn't been able to talk about Emmie with anyone over the years and it was starting to wear him down. "Just as I was leavin' with someone else..."

He looked away, not wanting to see her reaction. Wilda had made clear her thoughts on his partying and philandering.

"Harpies seeker. I heard," Wilda replied. Oliver winced slightly.

"It was... stupid," he admitted. "I just... I dinnae ken what's wrong with me..."

Wilda sighed, drawing his attention. He looked up, seeing her eyes were soft.

"I think... I think sometimes we don't know how to deal with some things, which leads to poor choices... but... nothing will be fixed if you keep ignoring the original problem," she said softly.

"No sure I can fix me and Emmie," Oliver said.

Wilda frowned slightly, as though that wasn't the problem she meant, but this was the most he had opened up lately. She figured it was best to run with it, lest he shut down completely.

"Then you have to figure out how to let go of her," Wilda stated.

"No sure I ken how to do that either," he said.