...And I Am Going Home

Oliver 5

After another therapy session which amounted to nothing but wasted time, Darren picked Oliver up and drove him back to his flat. Oliver had debated going to Kara's but at the moment it just felt like he was retreating, procrastinating, hiding away. Before... Snickleway, Oliver was perfectly fine with being alone, spending time to himself. He wouldn't ever consider himself a shut-in or anti-social, but he just didn't feel reliant on the presence of others. However, he now felt like a child, needing other's support. He could easily get to his therapy sessions himself and not require a lift from Darren, and he could entertain himself in his free time instead of hanging out with Kara every evening; though Kara always loved his company, he could tell that sometimes he had stayed his welcome. No, Oliver needed some time at home to adjust back to his routine before.

Before...

Before Snickleway.

After changing out of his work clothes, Oliver sat at his kitchen island on a high chair, cup of coffee in one hand, and his phone lying on the surface in front of him, currently on his messages with Cody, seeing the last one being telling him about Colene.

What to talk about...

Nothing in Oliver's life was really worth talking about. Nothing happened, apart from Snickleway but that wasn't exactly a cheery subject, especially not with Cody. It was the reason why Cody wasn't here and was with his parents. Oliver supposed he could ask what Cody had been up to: which would likely be therapy and counselling, same as Oliver.

How about talking about something other than recovering from being kidnapped by a monster that was trying to eat you?

...

Oliver took a sip of coffee. He had never been good at small talk, or messaging; even with Kara, his best friend, their texting was limited. But what was the point when they could see each other in person? And then with exes they soon gave up on texting Oliver, sending only significant updates of their life, details for meeting up or the occasional sext and photo.

He thought back to their carpooling days, and how easy it was to talk to each other. What did they talk about then? Movies, food, songs, would you rather questions Cody always came up with. That was right, it was always Cody who initiated the conversation, with Olvier attempting to respond and continue it.

Was this it?

Was their friendship, whatever their relationship was, gone? Could it only work when they could physically see each other, and be in forced proximity with carpooling and the band performances? Was it not going to last because Oliver was just so incompetent at texting and maintaining long-distance relationships? How many friendships had Oliver had that had disappeared because they moved away and he forgot to contact them and keep in touch? What about his own mam? How often did he call her compared to other children with their parents? Oliver tried putting away that line of thinking before it got too nestled in the nidus of his mind and festered into another fear, adding to the pile that was already consuming his mind.

When Cody returned, would it be exactly the same? Would they pick up everything immediately or would they have to start from scratch again? Or Cody would feel differently.

Or Oliver would feel differently.

It has been almost two months now since Cody left for his parents. That was more time than Oliver and Cody had spent time together in person. Could a friendship, feelings, an almost relationship that grew in a month and a half still survive after that long without seeing each other?

Or perhaps Oliver should reconsider his line of thinking and consider, whether a month and a half friendship/ almost relationship is something that you should be working yourself up over?

Oliver stared at the phone before him and took another sip of his coffee, which had gone lukewarm in the time of his contemplation.

And then he saw three dots appear on the screen.

Oliver almost jolted out of his seat.

Cody was starting to message him. He had beaten him to it.

Something sharp twisted in Oliver's stomach, and he felt nauseous as he watched those three moving dots.

And then the dots disappeared.

Then they appeared again.

And then disappeared.

Oliver waited. The dots did not appear again.

He waited a while longer.

But he received nothing.

Then he should send a message first instead, right?

Oliver picked up the phone, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

What to type?

Well, type something.

Anything.

Anything will do, Oliver.

Type.

Just type something, Oliver.

Oliver?

How was your day?

(no that's small talk, too simple; stop relying on him being the one to make the conversation of any substance. And then he will ask you, and you've done nothing)

How is Colene?

(too personal, none of your business what his ex talked to him about)

How are you?

(if he was alright he would be here and not there)

Would you rather...

(...)

Oliver.

Please.

Oliver, please just send him something.

How was your day?

A joke?

A meme?

A dick pic?

Something.

Just something.

Oliver put down his phone.

It's literally the most easiest thing to do.

His face rested in his hands.

Why are you finding this so difficult?

His fingers gripped his hair, nails digging into his scalp.

Stop being so silly, Oliver, and send a message.

...

Oliver did not send Cody a message that day.