The Fourth Side of the Triangle

Chapter 16.

16.

It takes Oliver four tries to knock on the front door successfully; the only reason he manages it the fourth time around is because he trips over his own feet as he steps forward, forcing his curled up fist into the object that stands before him. He tightens his grip around the presents' that he has safely tucked under his arm and waits for the door to open, counting the moments with bated breath.

It does open, about two minutes later (roughly 118 seconds, he thinks), when Oliver is about to give up and go home.

"Sorry... Nobody heard the buzzer. Everyone's out on the roof!"

Oliver can't speak. He can't speak, he can't move, he can't breathe and for a moment he thinks he might actually be sick. Words bubble and die in his throat, but there appears to be nothing he can do to get them out, out into the open- they’re suffocating.

"Well... Who is it?"

Oliver takes a step forward, only realising he has reached out his hand when the present falls to the floor with a muffled 'thud.'

"Jesus Christ! What was that?! You know, this isn't funny. If you're trying to sell something, I don't understand why the doormen let you up here so please, it's my so- my godson's birthday and we're all trying-”

"James!" Oliver says frantically, although he has so many words on his tongue because he doesn't quite believe it- so many questions and accusations fly through his head:

Why did nobody tell me, how are you alive, why don't you recognise me, what happened to you, when did you wake up, why won’t you look me in the eye...

"Oliver?” James sounds confused, his brow furrows and he takes a shaky step forward, “Ollie... Is that... You... Oll..."

"Oh."  

James spins around to try and find the source of the new voice, but his knees seem to buckle and he sways dangerously. Both Oliver and Becca rush towards him, desperately trying to steady their friend. 

"Stupid, bloody legs!" James exclaims forlornly, struggling out of their grip, a humiliated blush creeping up his neck and staining his cheeks.

Becca hands him the crutch that has been leaning, neglected against the doorframe and pats him gently on the back.

"Go and find Aims," she tells him softly.

"But-"

"James. Go and help her with Josh. I'll bring Ollie out in a minute."

James sighs, somewhat sadly, before turning to face Oliver. He doesn't quite look him in the eye, his gaze falling to a point on Oliver's nose.

"Good to see you mate," he tries to smile, "well... yeah. See. Ha, yeah... I'll see- I'll talk to you later."

With that, the blonde haired man turns and walks unsteadily towards the balcony.

As soon as he is out of sight, Oliver crumples; he slumps against the wall, bringing his head into his hands to clutch at his hair.

"He... Becca... Bec, he can't..."

Becca nods.

"It hasn't been easy," she murmurs softly, looking down, fringe falling into her eyes, "not easy at all. He has a detached retina in one eye... completely blind. The doctors weren't sure about the other... He had a hyphema when he was in the coma but they thought they caught it early enough to stop any blindness... But I don't know, they think maybe it's just from the trauma or something. He hates what he's become. He refused to watch ‘The Noble Art of Living’ when it aired; he almost broke the television out of anger… He can't see. He is almost completely blind. Add that to the fact that he was in that coma for over a year... He's supposed to be in a wheelchair but the bastard is too stubborn."