Of Kings and Queens

Part II/8/Nocturnal/

Oliver's POV

"He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger,
And finally drank away her memory."

•June, 28th•

Oliver's patience was waring thin.

The line in front of him moved. One step closer to his doom. The train was fairly modern, considering where it was going. It would be stopping in the land where internet was just a funny word.

He would be returning home for the weekend. His mother was very adamant that he would be returning to school on Monday, after he attended the Ball on Saturday night, of course. She had told him to not bother in hoping of coming home again until Christmas. But he wasn't surprised by her harsh words.

In the mixture of browns and blacks, his fair skin and bright hair stood out like a beacon. People looked at him in amazement, as it was not everyday that they saw a Roscoe in the flesh. Others, some who were Descendants themselves, glared at him.

Although the Roscoe family was respected and feared, they weren't liked by the majority of the rest of the Descendants.

He tried to distract himself from the boring queue of other tired, angsty teenagers that also just wanted to go home. He thought about his roommates, and the sneer that plagued his face softened. But only slightly. He fiddled with the cotton cuffs of his sleeves. They feeling was soft against his fingers of which were so used to the dry feeling of aged paper.

His thoughts drifted as the line moved again. There was only six more people in front of him.

If someone had asked him eight months ago if he would miss the Calzone twins, he would've thought they were dimwitted. At this stage though, he thought himself as dimwitted if he kept lying to himself like this. The living room seemed empty without Robin curled up in the armchair by the fire reading, or Peregrine's obnoxious phone calls that went late into the night. They took all their possessions with them, because the board of administration was still thinking about moving them to a different dorm. He swore to himself that he wouldn't miss them if they were relocated. He was in denial.

He passed his bags to the man at the carriage door as he finally stepped onto the train. He sat down by himself, and blocked out the world. He remembered their last day before summer vividly.

•:FLASHBACK:•
•/May, 30th\•

It was late in the afternoon, a few hours before the train left the school to bring students to Dublin airport where they would fly home. Perry's side of the room was hospital grade clean. It was very out of character for him. He suspected Robin had something to do with that.

He poked his head around his door when he heard the front door close behind them. Apparently, they were gone out to get some sort of lunch before they left.

He stealthily strode across the room towards Robin's door and twisted the knob. He felt bad about going in there without her permission— Or knowledge— But this was something he needed to do before they left.

They might not even return. They might not see him ever again, even if they do, he thought to himself in preparation, she still wouldn't talk to him.

He gently placed the ripped CD into one of her cardboard boxes and gracefully left the room without a sound.

And when she and Perry returned, she never even noticed it in the middle of her box dedicated only to her CDs.

•June 29th, 2:44am•

He sighed and bowed his head. Tears pooled in his eyes. His old room was twice as cold as the place he shared in school, and he realised suddenly, maybe it was the people that made it warm. He then laughed emptily and shook his head.

He took a deep breath.

Oliver hunched over and supported himself on his left elbow. His jaw clenched. He sucked in the cigarette like a lifeline.

He knew it wasn't possible, but the smoke smelled like the feeling in his collarbone. It was empty and uncomfortable, but atleast he could feel something. Feeling nothing is worse, Oliver reminded himself. 

The face of a broken man stared at him in the reflection of the window. The quality of the curtains, or the price of the fabric for his clothes meant nothing to him if the real expense was his happiness and freedom. He just didn't have enough guts to do what his older sister did. He could never be as brave as the Lion in Samtlige Skrifter. He could never be brave enough to tell Robin how he felt, he told himself belatedly.

He thought she was all that, and then some more. She was the type of person to play with babies, and to look after sick puppies. And he was convinced that no matter what happened, he would never be enough for her.

He picked up the bottle of whiskey he stole from his father's stash and chugged a mouthful back. Who was he kidding? He knew it himself at this point. He missed them. He missed her, especially. Her shampoo and her smile.

Somewhere along the road, he fell in love. Now, all he had to do was admit it to himself.