love came calling, twice // olly murs

9.

Really, she should have just left the room alone. But Amelia was never one to think rationally when she was upset, so after the men cleared out of the house; Jeff to work, Jason and Adam to the gym and Olly downtown to take photographs, Amelia quietly snuck into Tom's old room. It was late in the evening; almost eight o'clock. They had hung around all day, trying to find things to keep Amelia preoccupied. At two-thirty, when Jason suggested 'Family Game Afternoon', she had left the room, gone to Olly's room and simply lied on the bed, drifting in and out of sleep. When she wasn't sleeping, she cried. Now was her chance to revisit the mess she had created.

Cracking open the door, she let out a gasp when she realized just how angry she had been. The room was in shambles, broken wood and glass covering the floor. Though Olly had pulled her from the wreckage, he, nor anyone else, had bothered to clean it up.

She scoffed. Why would they? She wasn't the only one angry with Tom, angry with Olly. She shuddered as the air settled around her and in careful steps, made her way over to the closet.

The ripped up pieces of Shannon's photos still sat on the floor, and she felt her eyes prick with tears at the sight of them. She would not come here again, not anytime soon, anyway. Taking a deep breath, she closed the door quickly and raced back to the room across the hall. Olly's room.

As soon as she stepped into door, she flung it shut and leaned against it, breathing heavily. She felt instantly calm; the smell of sandalwood relaxing her. Despite her feelings towards the owner of the room, she couldn't deny that here was much safer than any other place in the house.

She couldn't go to Tom's room, for obvious reasons, and she didn't dare go to the kitchen, as that's where it had all gone down. Shouldn't she want to get out of this room, too? Olly was a part of everything, was he not?

She looked down at her bandaged hands again. Someone who hated her, someone she treated so badly, someone who wanted her hurt...they wouldn't have done this. They would have left her crying in her room, stinging cuts and all. Yet Olly hadn't.

What did this make him? She could no longer classify him as the asshole she had made him out to be. He clearly wasn't. And all things considered, he had been honest with her; brutally, maybe, but honest.

She never would have thought him to be these things; honest and well...caring. She remembered the pained expression on his face after she struck him and she pressed a hand to her face. It was still haunting her.

Whether she liked it or not, she knew things between she and Olly Murs were about to change drastically. They shared something now; a mutual betrayal and hatred for Tom.

This didn't replace the anger she felt towards him, the frustration of knowing that he had been aware of Tom's infidelity for over a year and never uttered at word. She couldn't fault him though. Maybe, if she had been more amiable, more civil, he would have told her. Maybe she wouldn't have felt as much contempt towards him as she did, and maybe she would have believed him.

She knew he was right, though. He had no reason to tell her given the nature of their relationship and even if he had, she wouldn't have believed him. She would have cut it down to jealously, that Olly was upset that Tom was successful and in love. An attempt he could have made would have been futile.

Taking a deep breath, she laid on his bed; the sheets cool and his scent pleasant. She inhaled, letting the comfort over take her and she fell asleep.

She fell into unconsciousness then, dreaming disjointed scenes. In her dream, she had been at the alter at a wedding, Tom standing before her in a gorgeous tux. The bride however, was not her, but rather a thin blonde in a poofy gown.