19. AFTER
I don't know how this happens but at some point after our hug, Oliver and I find ourselves in my room, casually discussing Death Note, a Japanese comic book that we both happen to be utterly obsessed with.
"Ryuk's the best character in the whole damn thing," he says after taking a sip of the third cup of coffee he's made in the last two hours he's been here. I'm not entirely convinced he's sober - is it possible to get drunk on coffee? I'll have to google it sometime.
"Nonsense!" I exclaim. "If anything, he's probably the most useless. Yeah, sure, he's kind of there to establish the rules and everything but we all know the writer could've found another way to fit that all in. We all know he's the token character that's only ever there for comic relief."
Oliver wrinkles his nose. "Oh, that's what all the insane Kira fanboys say."
"I am not a fan of Light Yagami."
"You so are!" Oliver argues with a loud cackle. He sits back on my bed and narrows his eyes, like he's observing me carefully. "You know," he says, smiling, "in the right lighting you actually look like him. With green eyes."
I splutter indignantly. "He's the main villain!"
Oliver smirks. "My point."
He laughs loudly when I throw a pillow at his face - and miss.
After a silence that seems painfully long, Oliver coughs before speaking. "Do you mind telling me," he says, keeping a firm gaze on me, "about what happened with - with Tina?"
My jaw tightens. "It's complicated," I mutter.
"Try me," is his response.
"Don't go punching me in the face if you don't like what I have to say."
I want it to sound serious but then I see Oliver's mouth twitch and I can't help but smile.
"No worries there mate," he says. "Punching is more your speciality than mine." After a quick chuckle, his eyes grow serious again. "Go on," he says softly.
"She told me -" I close my eyes and look away. "She told me it was my fault. Adam's death. She was borderline hysterical about it. I - I honestly don't know what she meant by that." When I look back at Oliver again, he is observing me with an unreadable expression. I wonder why it's so hard to understand him, how he manages to steel himself so quickly.
"Please believe me," I blurt out when he says nothing. I'm ashamed at how pathetically desperate I sound - but how can I not?
"I do believe you."
When he speaks, I almost sag in relief. "Thanks," I whisper.
"For what it's worth," Oliver says, "I think she sounds guilty. You yourself said she wasn't exactly calm when she accused you. Sounds like something a guilty person would do, you know? Accuse the first person they see, to pass the guilt onto someone else."
"So she killed her own son, did she?" I bite back sardonically. Oliver pushes his fringe out of his face and shakes his head impatiently at me.
"That's not what I had in mind either," he snaps. "But maybe she was... involved in it, somehow. All I'm saying is, the lady sounds fishy to me."
"That does explain why she doesn't get out of her house," I mutter. "Although it could just be her cancer that's making her weak." Suddenly, I think of something and it makes my stomach drop. "D'you think," I whisper, "he killed himself because she - because she-"
