Oliver 10

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Tuesday 20th January

Ah, the bus. It was filled with the people that Oliver detested the most in the world, from the overly chatty, loud, obnoxious teens, screaming children whose parents should really keep them on a leash or in a cage, and those who smelt weird and acted oddly, but not overstepping the line enough to be kicked off the bus unfortunately. And this was to be Oliver's fate every morning, five times a week, and perhaps also on the way back if Cody wasn't working and couldn't give Oliver a lift back home, which unfortunately was today.

The first few minutes of the journey were painful as the seats in front and behind Oliver were filled with people laughing and talking far too loudly, discussing things that should be whispered. Whenever anyone shrieked or shouted in excitement, Oliver would flinch, clutching his work bag tighter to his chest. Even the mint in his mouth, the overpowering flavour, could not distract him to calmness.

At the next stop, a familiar face got on: Miles, his new coworker. After scanning his bus ticket, Miles spotted Oliver and headed over. "Mind if I sit?" he asked, motioning to the free seat beside Oliver.

"Sure, go ahead." Oliver scooched over closer to the window, allowing Miles to sit.

They both went through the ordeal of small talk, asking each other how their evening yesterday went, before venturing into an actual conversation, that being Miles warning Oliver of the social obstacles in the office, what conversations to avoid and who to avoid.

Oliver learned not to talk about pets around Diana, as she had recently lost her beloved cat, and not to talk about Celtic to Ewan and Rangers to Harry, or another debate would begin. And then there was the rule of not stealing anyone's food or drinks from the fridge; Oliver, of course, would never consider such an act. Still, Miles warned of an incident where someone was stealing another coworker's milk to the point where the owner spiked it with laxatives to find the culprit, who ended up being the previous boss.

Oliver chuckled slightly at the karmic justice.

"Ah, there we are," Miles teased. "You can smile."

Oliver's smile faded in an instant, and he glanced away.

Fortunately, Miles didn't press more on this, about Oliver's smile being a rarity like others have done, and continued gossiping about his coworkers, how Quentin must be growing something weird in his desk due to the horrendous smell.

Overall, the bus journey wasn't so bad with company. Having Miles next to him protected Oliver from rubbing knees with a stranger, and he could finally block out the other noises by concentrating on Miles talking.

"Oh, and try to avoid Frank," explained Miles. "He's so dull to talk to; he won't stop talking about trains."

"The real kind or model trains?" asked Oliver.

"He's got a whole room filled with a model train track," Miles scoffed.

Oliver nodded, noting to find out who Frank was and talk to him about trains. His dad had also been a big fan, doing the same as Frank with the basement. Though Oliver wasn't particularly interested in trains himself, he had fond memories of his late father, conducting the mini trains and watching them chug around the room. It would be nice to talk to someone about it.

The bus finally arrived at their stop, and Oliver and Miles thanked the driver as they got off and headed to work. Oliver paused by the restaurant as they passed, catching a glimpse of Cody inside as he cleaned a table.

"What, are you hungry, Ollie?" Miles asked, prompting Oliver to continue walking alongside him. "Don't tell me you skipped breakfast."

"Of course not," replied Oliver flatly. "I never do. It's the most important meal of the day."

"Agreed."

Oliver hesitated. "It's Oliver."

"I know your name, silly," Miles smirked. "Don't worry; I haven't forgotten. Do you remember my name?"

"Miles Kendrick," answered Oliver.

"Well done, gold star."

"I mean that you have been calling me Ollie," Oliver stressed.

"Yeah, Oliver's too formal. No Oliver I've ever heard of has ever gone by Oliver; they all go by Ollie unless they're old men." Miles glanced at Oliver, smiling, his eyes softening. "You don't want me to be so formal, do you? I call you Ollie because we're friends."

"I would prefer it if you called me Oliver-"

"What, do you not consider me a friend?"

"No, that is not what I meant-"

"Are we friends?"

Oliver paused, swallowing and considering. "Yes," he replied flatly through gritted teeth. "But I still prefer being called Oliver."

They reached the entrance to work. Miles stood still, staring at Oliver for a moment before smiling. "Okay, sorry, I'll call you Oliver."

"Thank you." Oliver sucked in a quick breath through his nostrils, calming himself so he wouldn't have to rely on a mint so soon.

This promise, however, did not last. As the day went on, more people addressed Oliver as Ollie, and each time Oliver would try and correct them as politely as he could but the more he was forced to, the more he came out as aggressive due to the building frustration. Miles would slip up every single time, calling him Ollie before correcting himself and saying Oliver. Not once did he ever get it right the first time.

At the end of the day, Oliver had become defeated as those he had corrected had returned to calling him Ollie out of habit, some lasting longer than others, but the general mass influenced them to join the Ollie brigade, led by Miles, who seemed to be saying his name in conversation far more than what was considered normal.

"Hey, Ollie, how was your break? Sorry, I meant Oliver."

"Want a coffee whilst I'm up, Ollie? Oliver! Oliver, sorry."

"You know Diana, Ollie is into crosswords too. Huh? Sorry did I say Ollie again? I swear, one day, I'll get it right!"

"The bus is here, Ollie!" Miles hushed, breaking Oliver out of his thoughts.

Oliver was too tired now to fight back, having spent a whole day of it. He was Ollie now at work. The damage was done, and fixing it was beyond Oliver's care now. He didn't know why it mattered so much now thinking about it, all that energy he wasted. In a year or so, he would find another job to move onto anyway, one where he would firmly establish that he wished to be addressed as Oliver.

As he got on the bus and stayed quiet, barely listening to Miles ramble on about some LGBTQ television show Oliver had to watch, as it was mandatory for any queer to know apparently, Oliver wondered if he was just being silly.

It was just a nickname. Ollie. It wasn't cruel or stupid sounding; there was nothing wrong with it. And it wasn't the first time he had been called Ollie; a few friends had referred to him as such until Oliver stated his preference, for which they all apologised and corrected themselves.

Arden also called him Ollie. But that was different because it was Arden.

It's just a name, and yet Oliver felt like he had lost something, a part of himself. That he was being seen and presented as someone else, a mask forcibly placed on his face. He was now Ollie instead of Oliver. So silly. He was still the same person, he would still act exactly as he always did, but there was now a notable lack of power, a power to do what, though? He wanted to be called Oliver, and he was denied.

Yeah... I'm just being silly, Oliver thought, putting minimal effort into engaging in a conversation with Miles as it was better than sitting alone on the bus or being forced to sit next to a stranger. He was so looking forward to tomorrow when he could drive home with Cody instead.

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That's Not My Name by The Ting Tings

[One of the band's favourites to perform, whilst simplistic enough to give everyone a break in between more demanding melodies, it is still a big crowd pleaser with Rheanna taking main vocals. She does some crowd work during the bridge, teasing people with her low sultry voice.]

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