Definition: Slut [ complete ]

[22] Breakfast at Tiffany's

NOTE:

This story will be removed the moment I finish it's prequel (S's & Ex's). And then I'm going to rewrite this <3

See description for link.

Definition: Slut

[22] Breakfast at Tiffany's

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Previously:

The team won their semi-final game, but it cost Jonathan an injury. While in the hospital, Oliver and Andrew checks up on Damien without realizing that Harriet, Mia, and Ella followed them. Upon figuring out what was going on with Damien, they uncovered that he and Mia had known each other for a while. After a few seconds of a breakdown, Mia keeps him company for the night. Oliver allows Emily to stay with Jonathan, and Andrew clues in on what's going on between Ella and Oliver.

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Oliver was dead.

Well, okay, he wasn't literally dead, but he looked dead. A week after the hospital fiasco with Damien and the others, Oliver fell ill. I was eighty-six percent sure that it wasn't my cooking that made him this way. I mean, if it was then, I should be sick, too.

Because Oliver was sick, Andrew managed to catch it as well. It didn't quite help how the girls were teasing the two of them of being a little too close with one another. Even Monique joined in on the bantering. Though, with Oliver and Andrew unable to do anything other than stay in bed all day long while coughing and sneezing gross things, and Jonathan having a broken leg and all, caused the team to lose the championship.

It wasn't that their presences were really that necessary to win, but I suspected that the other guys didn't feel as confident without their team captain playing with them. Their loss, however, didn't stop them for throwing a party for almost winning the game. Andrew was bummed out due to the fact that he couldn't go party with his teammates, but when Monique offered to stay with him until he was better, he suddenly didn't mind not being in the company of the team.

Emily was instructed by her parents to look after Oliver for the time being. It turned out that he wasn't the type to get ill often, but when he does get sick, it was bad. He didn't just look pale and sniffled every few seconds like how a person would look like if they caught a normal cold, but he looked like a legitimate zombie, complete with the dark bags under his eyes and the dying-like groans that escaped his lips.

It wasn't such a pretty sight.

"What are you doing here, isn't there are party you should be at? Where's Em?" he asked as soon as I entered his room, pushing the things on his table to make room for the bowl of soup I had to make, a glass of water and some medicine.

"If you didn't know already, I don't do parties," I replied.

"Right," he mumbled, pulling his covers over his head.

I sighed, and pulled open his blinds. It was depressingly gloomy in there. Even though it was already dark outside, opening the window just made it felt less... blue. The walls weren't painted black or anything like that, but there was barely any light in the room. If I wasn't so scared of the dark, I wouldn't have minded. The room itself was clean, which didn't surprise me at all, seeing that Oliver seemed like the kind of guy who would place his books in alphabetical order in a shelf. His desk was a little messy, but it was a lot more organized than my closet on a normal day.

"How do you feel?" I asked, taking in his appearance. Andrew got sick just this morning, while Oliver had been in bed for about two days. I supposed that he looked a lot better compared to yesterday, which was a good thing.