🦋 + 🐍
(Oliver's Version)
She was present wherever he went, even when she wasn't close.
It was crazy to think how often this galaxy coloured hair barista invaded his moments of solitude. Forever in his memories, her face stuck in the back of his mind like a rainbow with all of the colours that were missing from Oliver's life. And he wondered if keeping her close would make some of her colours rub off on him too. But he could only hope.
Would it really be so difficult for someone to teach him how love actually worked?
After what happened with Anne, he wasn't so sure he knew anymore. For a moment, she made him feel like loving was being patient and caring. In all others, she made him conclude that love was having the courage to break your boundaries all at once. But Oliver's definition of love was somewhat blurry — a thin grey line that he was almost about to cross yesterday night with this barista.
But couldn't.
Because if history was any proof, it would vouch for the fact that whenever Oliver found himself happy, it took mere moments for things to turn back to sad. What he thought could be the start to something new — something beautiful — just ended up being a lesson that looked a lot like weapons. And though it broke the last thread holding Oliver's heart together, he was bleeding in silence but she'd be the last one to know.
Just because everything in his life seemed to be turning into the wrong direction didn't mean he couldn't have his favourite coffee too. Right? It could be the one thing that didn't have to leave him and go away like everyone else did.
Waking into the café he was way too accustomed to, he didn't bother to search for her this time. She doesn't matter if she doesn't want me, he kept telling himself. He couldn't decide what made him think this way — if it was his wounded ego from when she had asked him to get out or the fear that he would break her too if he stayed any closer.
So when Dio asked for his order, not being able to greet the smile he was so habituated to didn't pierce his already shattered heart. It's okay, people leave. He reminded himself. You don't have to make such a fuss about it. After all, it wasn't like Oliver was being rejected for the first time.
Ordering his iced Americano and paying with the spare coins in his pocket, Oliver couldn't help but reminisce the time Anne chose to walk out on him when—
Don't think about it. No one can know. He reminded himself, choosing to complete the thought.
When he needed her to be there the most. When he was looking forward to seeing her, probably for the first and only time they were together. But she never showed up, taking with her Oliver's faith and will to love again. Since that very day, he was convinced he would never see colours again. Then why did this barista paint Oliver's black and white life to infiltrate it so gracefully with the bewitching colours of her hair?
He didn't believe in the power of love but every time he saw the red streaks in her hair, they made him want to obsess unhealthily over someone. The blues made him want to stay long enough to be able to find his place in this world with the one he loved. The purples made him want to fall madly in love with someone, even if it broke him in the end. The black made him want to forget his very name and the problems that threatened to knock on the door of the fort he had built around himself — way too tall and strong for anyone to break through.
Why did she remind him of love when he hardly knew her at all?
His tired eyes gave up and started searching for her face in the crowd, not paying attention to what Dionysus kept asking him.
"Your name?" He asked loudly with a marker in hand but Oliver couldn't answer.
Who was he? What was he doing here? Where was she? Why was she nowhere to be found? Was she hiding in the washroom and crying again? Should he go find her—
Elizabeth, he wanted to ask out loud. Where is she?
At this point, he didn't care if he looked like a fool. He needed to see her. Just once. He scanned through the crowd and caught a familiar face but it wasn't hers. It was Grace. And the way she stared back at him intensely made him break eye contact immediately. He cleared his throat and looked at his feet, scratching the back of his head in confusion. Why was he so out of control today?
"Sir, your name?" Dio asked a bit louder this time, frustration brimming on the tip of his tongue.
He blurted out, thoughts of the missing barista still playing in his head on loop. As if nothing else mattered. "Oliver."
Just like that, the secret was past his lips.
To his surprise, Dio chuckled. "Oh like Oliver Wilson? You wish."
He said his name and everything just stopped. His heartbeat on the highline, he replayed the entire conversation in his head.
What the fuck just happened? What did I just say?
Oliver gasped at the realisation that it was he, himself who dropped his name so casually as if it meant nothing at all. As if it wasn't the detonator that would instantly destroy this safe space he had created for himself. How could he be so careless? What was wrong with him?
"Uh-" he tried to cover up but his brain refused to cooperate. Say something, he panicked but all he could think of was her smile. That ever so polite, ever so comforting movement of her lips. And the fact that she was nowhere to be found. A horrible feeling grew in the pit of his stomach, like something was terribly wrong. Just like the silence before the storm that ended it all.
"Oh my God, you're Oliver Wilson?" Dionysus covered his mouth with his hand in utter shock. "Wait, no way-"
"No." Oliver finally managed to speak. His throat was parched and his voice was the meekest he'd ever heard it. But he knew that was going to help his case because this wasn't the Oliver Wilson anyone knew. To the world, Oliver was the most fierce, headstrong and ruthless businessman. Or at least that's the way he pictured the facade he often put up in front of the world.
"But you said this coffee is for Oliver?" Dio asked, confused.
He simply nodded. "He's my boss."
Pretending to be someone who simply picked Oliver Wilson's coffees could work, he figured. After all, it wasn't like anyone had ever seen him drink them himself since he always took takeaways and wore a mask — unlike most people who chose to dine at the café with their masks off.
"Woah, you work for Oliver Wilson? That's-"
Before Dio could say another word, Oliver chose to pick his cup and straw immediately and bolt as fast as he could — not before letting his negative self image shine.
"Yes. But please don't hold that against me."
Random Question: If you could name yourself anything, what name would you pick for yourself?
Imagine someone like Oliver slipping his secret so casually lmao what is wrong with him. What do you think is going to happen ahead? Will he be able to keep on this little act or will the truth slip out again? Do you like how he covered it up tho?
What would you've done if you were in his place? Also, where is our fav barista? What do you think happened to her?
P.S. The next chapter is my dedication to all Swifties. Let me know if you'd like me to update it tomorrow (Sunday) or the day after (Monday).
[Btw a mini spoiler for this story is up on my Instagram (recent reel) & YouTube (check recent uploads) for those who're curious. Idk why the YouTube link isn't working else I'd have added it here itself]
Take care <3