Olilen Oneshots

Empty

One knock. 

Then another. 

Rustling and creaking from the other side of the bedroom, then once again—silence. 

The door opened slightly and a strong ray of light illuminated the floor. Another dash of silence, and then the creaking of the door disrupted the tense atmosphere. A shadow appeared on the doorstep, waiting and swaying, and then moving forward. One foot after another, and then he breathed in.

"Hey...Oliver? Are you awake?" Len leaned to the side to let the light shine on the bed. He could barely make out a person inbetween the mess of unmade blankets and worn-out pillows, but the faint grunt answered his question. "How are you?"

"Leave me alone."

The air was as tense as just a moment ago, and Len wasn't sure where to stand. The thick shadows threatened to devour him, but he needed to have the light from the hallway on the bed. He decided against the quick urge to do as told and leave, and sat down on the edge of the mattress. His eyes swayed over the surface and he could barely make out a head of unkempt hair strands. He coiled them around his fingers, but then the head turned away quickly.

"Are you still hurting? That's okay, you know. I just wanted to—"

"What does that have to do with me? Go away." Oliver's voice was colder than before, and despite all preparation, Len couldn't help but be hurting now as well. His frown remained hidden in the darkness but his sigh was crisp and clear.

"I didn't see you leave your room the past days at all. I'm worried."

Silence engulfed all the other precious words Len hoped to let out, but he couldn't as long as he was met with such strong resentment. It was clearly uncalled for, which made it even harder to ignore, and Len looked around the room to find something to break this daily cycle with. He couldn't just leave yet. His heart couldn't take this silence much longer.

Another breeze of shifting blankets resonated through the room. Len held his breath for a moment, but it took longer to finally hear Oliver speak up again.

"I'm fine," he said, with his voice stern and brittle at the same time. Another sting through Len's chest, but he repressed a sigh.

"Clearly not. Please just let me help you," Len whined and stroke his hand across the waves of blanket until he found an opening and pulled on it. Oliver's face flashed up in the soft light, with strings of tears traveling down his cheeks. Len faltered, both surprised and pained to see his partner like this, but then moved his hand from the blanket to wipe away the remains on the damp face.

"Oliver..."

Len's voice broke and he bit his tongue hard to not let out any other sounds. He felt like he had been walking on eggshells around Oliver these past days, but it has never been this intense. He could sense that any wrong movement or word would destroy the intimate moment he longed for all this time. Just touching Oliver gently, feeling his cold and rough skin, finding the injured eye without a bandage, and seeing him let Len's hand touch all that was more precious than what other he could ever ask for.

It were a mere few seconds, but those felt like hours Len could hold onto until he suddenly noticed the tension in Oliver's jaw and then a harsh pull on the blanket; Oliver returned back under his hideout.

"What's your problem? Is that all you can do?" Oliver's voice was muffled, but he made sure to only speak up even more, "Don't even—"

"Please stop being so mean. I respect that you need space but this is going too far." Len started to get frustrated, and he couldn't hide it in his voice. There was merely another grunt coming from under the blankets. He searched for the fold once again, but Oliver turned around even further, and now Len couldn't even make out where he was anymore.

His growing impatience both evaluated between leaving or ripping off every single blanket on the bed to not have Oliver hide from him anymore. All he wanted was to see his partner again and hold him in his arms and tell him that everything was going to be okay. Any other couple would go through the same during tough times, why couldn't they be like that? Instead, they had these ups and downs of talking and not talking, of hurting and not hurting—and while it had merely been a few days—it felt like this was never going to end, and Len wasn't willing to keep going for much longer.

He was about to bite down on those raging thoughts, but barely held back turning the tense atmosphere into a catastrophe. A few deep breaths and everything was back to normal.

"I'm really worried. I don't see you shower, eat, go outside—anything at all anymore!"

"How could you? You're just at work all day anyways." 

Another grunt followed, and then it was silent again. As if a kid had just slammed a door shut right in front of his nose, Len was left alone with bitter silence once again. He huffed and then shook his head in disbelief.

"Is that what this is all about? Are you mad at me because I'm not at home often enough?"

Len's voice echoed through the hallway and back into the bedroom but he didn't care at this point. Being gentle and soft was not going to work on Oliver, no matter how hard Len tried. He hated it, and he hated himself for yelling, but maybe it was going to show more effect in order to finally see Oliver again.

"At first you told me you need more space so I put on extra shifts. Now you don't like that I'm not here for you. I can't read minds, you have to tell me in time."

"Don't make this about yourself. I don't need you. I don't care whether you're here or not." Oliver's voice quivered, and despite all the bottled-up anger, Len couldn't clash against the helplessness he was confronted with. He tried to gulp away the growing frustration in his chest, but it just kept on nagging on his insides and robbing his breath.

"I can stay away from work for a while if that helps you. Just, please, please tell me what you need in order to feel better."

Len leaned forward and hoped to feel where Oliver was, but he just kept grabbing for air. As soon as he could make out any sort of living, it pulled away quicker than he could grasp it. Oliver's voice quivered up once more, but nothing else than empty sounds came out; then he cleared his throat and sighed deeply.

"Quiet. Everything. Just don't talk to me or touch me. That's all I'm asking for."

Oliver was clearly close to crying and so was Len. Despite all attempts, at the end of the day, both would be left with empty hands, unable to grasp for what they needed so deeply. And as much as today felt different from yesterday, and the day before yesterday, it would come to the very same end.

Len pressed his index fingers against the corner of his eyes until he could be sure he wouldn't break down now, and then stood up, ignoring the black blotches forming in his sight. He stood there for a while and stared down at the piles of blankets, but nothing moved.

"I barely recognize you anymore."

At this point, he didn't expect an answer and merely left the room without another word. The door fell shut on his back and he could make out vivid shifting and rustling from inside—no footsteps coming towards the door, however.

The hallway looked colder than before and Len pushed himself off the door only clumsily. His eyes bathed in the orange lighting and brownish furniture; it was hot and steaming, and strangely suffocating. Only the living room with a brighter setting would help him breath again, and he took a few deep ones before settling down on the chair at the end of the room. As he would do so often the past days, he would sit down and stare. There was nothing to stare at anymore, but it still felt like there was.

"James, you'd know what to do now, huh?" Len sighed, leaned his chin against the palm of his hand, and let the fingers of the other hand glide over the cold metal bars of the emptied cage. 

A/N: I switched up my writing style a bit for this one. Let me know what you think about it. Thanks for reading!