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IT HAD BEEN THE ABSOLUTELY WRONG TIME TO HAVE DONE THAT. Theodore has not stopped thinking about it since and it's been a week, and now the month of April is coming to an end. But he also hadn't talked to Oliver since, and Theodore now knows for a fact he's just fucked up. That shouldn't have happened, he thinks, lying awake at nearly three in the morning. He hadn't slept. At all. His thoughts were consumed by the fact he made the worst decision in his life. Oliver hadn't seemed angry with him for kissing him, but would be lying if he said he wasn't going batshit crazy assuming the worst.
Oliver still wanted to talk to him, to ask him more questions about it, and Theodore knew that. But Theodore didn't want to talk. Oliver tried texting him. No response. He tried calling him. Theodore never picked up the phone. He tried going to Theodore's room, so he could talk to him. The door was locked.
Just when things had been fixed and everything had been perfect, Theodore just fucking blew it.
Theodore gets up from his bed and takes a seat on the floor, back resting against the door as he hugs his knees close to his chest and sighs. A sad sigh. A disappointed one. He buries his face in his hands as he feels tears starting to form. He's such a crybaby... Why can't he be normal for once? Why did his emotions always get the best of him at the completely wrong times?
There's a hesitant knock on the door. Theodore continues to sit there, not bothering to get up and open the door. He knows that Oliver knows he's there.
"Sorry if I woke you up," Oliver says quietly from the other side of the door.
"You didn't. I'm already awake. Haven't slept yet," Theodore replies, his voice muffled by his arms covering his mouth. "If you want me to leave my room, I don't want to. I'm fine staying in here."
"Actually, that's not why I wanted to talk to you..." Oliver trails off, taking a seat on the other side of the door. The door shifts slightly as he leans against it. "I just have a question about last night—"
"It's my fault. It's all my fucking fault, Ollie, I'm sorry," Theodore says, looking up from where his head was resting in his lap, now leaning back against the smooth white wood of the door. "I shouldn't have kissed you, I know. I know, I know, I know. I just— I ruined absolutely everything. Our friendship, by— by doing that. I'm sorry, Ollie. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
There's tears in his eyes and before he knows it, the dam he had been trying to force back has spilled over. A sob racks his body and he drops his head to his hands again, trying to stifle himself before it got worse. But it always got worse. It. Always. Got. Worse.
