Oliver is lost in a world that he loved.
A desire to paint to his hearts content, any form of distraction from his recent heartbreak. Attempting to rebuild his life without the person he loves, adapting to bleak reality.
He was always known for bei...
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OLIVER FLETCHER
PAST JULY 2019
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When I opened my eyes the next morning, they burned. Painfully. I almost forgot that I went out last night considering how easily I fell asleep but now I remember everything, including my head that starts to pound.
I wince and shuffle in the bed, an arm was wrapped around my body gently and I sigh as I look down to Max beside me. He was already awake and staring up at the ceiling.
My lips purse and I lean over my bedside table, taking a massive gulp of water from my bottle.
"How are you feeling?" Max's voice from behind me startles me.
I nod and place the bottle back and shuffle underneath the duvet. "Okay," I breathe out.
Max sits up beside me and drops his head to my shoulder. "Do you hate me?" He asks.
"No," I say simply. "But I'm not exactly ecstatic with everything that's happened."
His head nods against my shoulder and looks up at me, his eyes looked lazy and you could tell he was tired. Clearly looping thoughts round in his head, over and over.
"Let's go out for breakfast," he suggests. "Give us a chance to talk, you can cure that hangover."
I look over at the window for a moment, covered by my blinds. "Okay," I nod after a few moments. "We can go get breakfast."
Max offers me a smile before pulling back the covers and swinging his legs down onto the floor. "We can go to the one near my old house," he suggests.
"Sure," I say as I stand from the bed, feeling my stomach swirl slightly. "I'm gonna shower."
"Can I come?"
I glance over my shoulder at him, his puppy dog eyes weren't working on me today. "I don't need any more distractions," I say simply. "And I need to eat as soon as possible."
Max nods and leans down to collect his clothes. "I got it." He smiles.
After my quick shower, we soon leave my accommodation and fall into a silent walk to the café. Max's hands were shoved into his jeans and his head low to the floor as we approach the high street. I knew he was feeling guilty but not this guilty.
He presses a hand to the glass door and glances up at me, allowing me in first. I nod and smile. "Thanks," I breathe out before looking over the customers and sitting down at the back.
Max follows my lead and slides into the chair in front of me, his hands clasping together on the table. He opens his mouth to speak, followed by a deep sigh. "I'm so sorry Oliver," he breaks the silence.
