❝We're meant to be end-game❞
THIS IS NOT A LOVE STORY; THIS IS A TRAGEDY.
♡
Nora thinks she is living out her dream. So why does it feel like such a nightmare?
Nora loves Oliver. Oliver loves Nora. It's meant to be simple. But with Oliver's old h...
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Nora had never driven as fast in her life as she did on her way to Oliver's apartment. She was certain she had gotten a bunch of speeding tickets but it didn't matter. She had to see him.
She tried calling him but there was no answer. She didn't even know if he was home. The doorman greeted her as she entered the building she had once lived in.
"I don't have my key. Can you give the the master key to get to our floor?"
To get to her floor, Nora had to swipe a card in the elevator but she had thrown it away after promising herself she would never go back. What a lie.
"I'm sorry, Ms Lawrence, but I will have to call Oliver first because you haven't lived here in nearly two months."
Nora sighed. What if he said he didn't want to see her and told the doorman not to let her up? She needed to see him.
"Shit. Okay, tell him there's someone waiting for him in the lobby. Don't tell him who it is."
The doorman looked down nervously, fiddling with his button. "I have to disclose-"
Nora pulled out her wallet, shutting him up immediately. She took out two crisp hundred dollar notes and flashed them in front of him before slipping them into his hand.
"Please."
"I-"
She slammed down another two hundred and looked back to him. He cleared his throat before backing away to his desk and calling Oliver.
"Hello? Mr Scott? There's someone here to see you... I don't know who it is. You can come down or- okay, I'll let them know."
He put down the phone and lead Nora to the the elevator where he scanned a card and quickly exited, leaving Nora alone with her thoughts. Anxiety simmered in her and she nearly pressed the emergency stop button. But before she could the elevator dinged open.
The apartment had been renovated since she last saw it. Of course it probably had to be because of the damage Oliver had done. But one thing caught her eye as she stepped in; the photo of them was placed in a new frame and put back in place. She ran her finger across its edge before putting the frame back down. Beside it was a small bag of pills with a sticky note on it that read 'STOP ASKING ME FOR DRUGS. YOU'RE KILLING YOURSELF'. It must have been Charlie who wrote the note. A drug dealer that actually cared about the health of his client? Oh the irony.
She was hit with the smell of stale alcohol as she entered the living room. "Oliver?" She called out.
A low grunt came from his study. He came out in a half buttoned shirt and messy hair. His walk was shaky and it looked like he could collapse at any minute. Then his exhausted eyes lit up. He was holding a bottle of whiskey and a cigarette, both of which he dropped when he saw her.
