A/N: I would just like to take this opportunity to thank all of you who have read this story so far. It means so much to me and I love you all. :)
Just a quick note: in case you hadn't noticed, this story is becoming slightly darker. There will be some themes that others may find uncomfortable, and I apologise for that.
Thank you again for staying with me through this, and I can't tell you how much I apprieciate your support. xoxoxo
7.
“I’m bringing him round to meet you,” Becca gushes from her end of the phone and Amy rolls her eyes.
“Must you?” she says. She knows that her words will probably hurt the other girl, but all of Becca’s potential partners always seem to fall short of her expectations.
Somewhere along the line, an unwritten rule has been written- if Amy and James disapprove, then whoever he is, whatever he’s like, then he goes. He could be wealthy or poor, beautiful or hideous, it wouldn’t matter; Amabelle’s word is law. Becca knows that it isn’t fair on herself and that she shouldn’t allow her friend to dictate her life in such a way, but they are her closest friends, like family to her and she tells herself that her choices impact them all.
So when she informs Amy of her newest lover, Amy finds it hard to be impressed. In fact, she lets her lip curl and her eyes narrow and says,
“Fine. Bring him to dinner.”
-x-
“Ouch you little bitch!”
James rubs his head pitifully and stares at the potato that has just bounced rather satisfyingly off his scalp and is now rolling around the floor. He’s going to have a bruise there, he can feel it already and he makes a mental note that he probably should have made years ago not to leave Amy alone with anything that can be used as (or has the potential to be used as) a weapon. Apparently this includes raw vegetables- who’d have thought?
“James Thomas, I have just cleaned that table! Now you can either help us or bugger off to read your porn elsewhere.”
James splutters as Oliver turns around hurriedly to hide the snigger that is threatening to escape. He picks up a chopping knife and hacks at a large red pepper, just as James says,
“It’s Top Gear Amy. Not that I would expect you to understand the beauty that is this car.” He flips the magazine round and Amy stares at it with raised eyebrows.
“There is nothing beautiful about a lump of shiny metal.”
James’s eyes widen as he double takes- looking from the picture of the car, to his friend, and then back again.
“You did not just insult this car,” he says.
“James, if you want to make love to the car, then please go away and lock yourself in your room or something. Oliver and I have to get on because Becca will be here any minute now.”
James scowls before tossing his magazine out of the open kitchen door, ignoring the mirror look that is being thrown his way. He then looks innocently at Amy and says,
“So this Tom guy... what’s he like?”
Amy shrugs.
“Never met him. Apparently he’s a looker but can be a bit up himself... you know, speaking before he thinks, that kind of thing.”
James purses his lips and nods seriously.
“I bet he’s a real wanker. Anyone with Thomas in their name has to be.”
Oliver coughs as he chokes on a piece of the red pepper that he has just popped into his mouth and stares at his friend. James seems to realise what he has said and is quick to make amends.
“Well, apart from me obviously. Because that would just be silly, wouldn’t it?”
Amy simply rolls her eyes and leans over the counter to take the pepper from Oliver before he can butcher it anymore and scoops up some of the filling from a bubbling saucepan and places it inside the vegetable.
Oliver and Amy are preparing dinner for their friends- Becca is bringing Tom over to meet Amy, Oliver and James for the first time and to say that the former is feeling nervous would be an understatement. Amy, who has found a passion for cooking due to the amount of time she must spend on her own when Becca is at work and the boys are away filming, was more than happy to cook a meal for them and has agreed to let Oliver help- for more reasons than one. Firstly, because it is something he enjoys doing and seems to make him relax. Secondly, Amy has noticed that he is more inclined to eat the food produced if he has some kind of input in its preparation. They are making stuffed peppers filled with couscous and minted peas and already a meat lasagne is cooking steadily in the oven. The peppers are more for Oliver’s benefit and Amy has already caught him eyeing them with something deeper than hunger.
By the time Becca and Thomas arrive, the food is nearly ready and James has shuffled all of his discarded magazines into a neat pile on the glass coffee table in the living area of the flat. It is he who opens the door to the couple, raising an eyebrow and making no effort to disguise the fact that he isn’t impressed by Tom’s appearance. Whilst James is dressed casually- in a pair of snug, dark blue jeans which are held up with a smart black belt with a loose, white shirt tucked in to them, the top two buttons undone- Tom is dressed in what can only be described as a suit. Like James, the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, but apart from that, their attire is completely different.
“Hey James!” Becca says quickly, desperate to break the silence as the two men wearily eye each other up.
She leans in to give him a peck on the cheek, which he returns.
“Where are Amy and Oliver?”
“In the kitchen,” James replies flatly, never letting his eyes leave the other blonde haired man.
Becca notices where he is looking and says,
“Oh! James, this is Tom. Tom, this is James, Amy’s best friend.”
James shakes the hand that is offered to him, but doesn’t say anything. It is Tom who speaks first.
“Not gonna invite us in then Blondie? Oh! Sorry. I meant Jamie.” He laughs as if he has just told the funniest joke in the world and James’s lips tighten to a thin line; he simply stares.
“It’s James,” he said in a deadpan voice and Becca flushes red and elbows Tom in the ribs. There is then a silence that is so awkward it is almost painful, before James says, his voice laden with sarcasm:
“Oh, of course. Just... come on in. Becca will show you through to the dining room whilst I... alert my friends of your... arrival.
He then proceeds to walk so fast he is almost running, back down the hallway and into the kitchen where he slams the door shut behind him.
“That bastard!” he exclaims loudly, “I can’t believe how rude he is! This one has got to go Amabelle, I can’t stand him.”
“Guys...” Oliver says slowly, “if he makes her happy, then maybe we should...”
He stops abruptly as he catches the look that his girlfriend and his friend are giving him.
“Okay, I’ll stop talking now.”
“Yeah. I think that would be the wise thing to do, Oliver,” James snorts. “Anyway, is food nearly done? I’m starving!”
-x-
Oliver tries not to look at the man who is staring at him from across the table. He is sitting next to Amy, James on her other side. Opposite them, are the ‘happy couple.’ Becca actually looks anything but- her earlier blush has not yet gone and Tom’s fake blonde hair has slipped into his face, giving him a rather unattractive look.
“Have we met somewhere before?” he suddenly asks and Oliver is alarmed to see that he is staring straight across the table at him.
“Um... no, I don’t think we have,” he mumbles as he pushes a piece of pepper around his plate.
“Oh. Because... I think I recognise you.”
“He’s an actor,” Amy says proudly, giving Oliver’s forearm a squeeze as he chews slowly on a single pea.
“An actor, ‘ey?” Tom says, propping his elbow on the table and waving his fork in Oliver’s direction, “been in anything well known?”
“Um...” Oliver says, poking at his food, “I’ve been in... um... well I’ve played supporting roles in a couple of things and I’ve performed in theatre, but now I’m... I’m in The Noble Art of Living.” “Oh...” Tom looks slightly put out that he isn’t having dinner with an A- List celebrity, “so you’re not a proper actor then?”
James cuts into his starter a little too vigorously, his jaw clenched as his knife grates against the plate. Becca chokes a little on her wine and if looks could kill, Tom would be dead ten times over from the look that Amy is sending in his direction.
“I’m going to get the lasagne,” James mutters darkly, pushing his chair from the table unnecessarily hard before striding angrily towards the kitchen. They can hear him banging around, slamming cupboards and draws.
“What’s ‘is problem?” Tom asks, spraying couscous all over Oliver who looks like he wants to be sick.
“James acts as well, babe,” Becca says softly, putting a hand over Tom’s.
James comes back with the lasagne and dishes it out. He gives plates to everyone apart from Oliver and instead piles the leftover couscous and peas onto his plate. Oliver smiles, but his stomach churns unpleasantly; he has eaten more than he has done in the past week and he doesn’t think that his body can take much more.
“This is delicious,” Becca says, smiling genuinely at Amy who nods her thanks.
“Yeah, nice one Aims!” James chimes in.
Amy is looking at Oliver, who has paled considerably in the last five minutes; she momentarily ignores everyone else at the table.
“Are you okay?” she asks him quietly. Oliver forces a smile and nods, before pouring himself some water and downing it in one, long drink.
“Not eatin’ the lasagne then?” Tom asks and this time, Oliver visibly grimaces as Tom speaks with his mouth full of food.
“I’m a vegetarian,” he says, “and... I can’t really eat a lot of dairy products.”
“Wow,” Tom says, “That’s a lot of problems.”
“They aren’t problems,” Amy spits, unable to stay quiet any longer.
“Calm down!” Tom says in an annoyingly arrogant fashion, his voice rising in pitch, “I just think he needs
fattening up, that’s all.”
“Well, thanks for your concern, but-”
“Amabelle,” Oliver says in a small, yet stern voice, “don’t worry about it.”
Amy shuts her mouth but both Becca and James can see that she is fuming; in fact, the only one who seems to be oblivious is Tom. He is not aware that there was a line and that he has well and truly crossed it. She turns back to look at Oliver.
“Can you eat anymore?” she asks him gently.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Oliver smiles at her, “I’ll eat a bit more.”
As if to prove himself, he shovels a mouthful of couscous onto his fork and carefully puts it in his mouth, before pouring himself some more water to wash it down with.
“Oliver...” Amy says. She can see that she is forcing himself to eat and although this is what she is desperate for, she doesn’t want him to feel pressured in front of Tom. James is obviously thinking the same, for he says playfully,
“It’s alright Ollie, mate. If you’re not hungry we can go and get something to eat later.”
Oliver shakes his head.
“You are really bloody thin though... for a bloke,” Tom says, taking a large gulp of wine, “I mean... you sort of resemble one of the guys I used to talk to from the eating disorder units at the hospital; like a walking skeleton he was! Bloody hell, never seen so many jutting out bones... and your elbows-” he says, gesturing to where Oliver’s pointy elbows are just visible from where he has rolled up his pale blue shirt, “- your elbows... look just like ‘is.”
If possible, Oliver has lost even more colour. His stomach is churning and he knows that this isn’t going to end well. He lurches from his seat and out of the room. He only just manages to make it to the kitchen before he retches painfully into the bin. Amy runs after him, guilt eating away at her insides.
“Okay,” James says, standing up and eyeing Tom with such hatred he can’t help but feel slightly intimidated, “you have one minute to get your belongings and get out of my flat. You are a rude, thoughtless bastard and if I ever see you again, I will not be responsible for what happens to you. You dare to insult my friend...” he trails off, nostrils flaring. Tom composes himself and scowls.
“Whatever. I’m leaving. Come on Becca.”
Becca shakes her head, tears glistening in her eyes.
“I’m staying,” she says, “I’m staying. I have to look after my friend.” With that, she turns and hurries into the kitchen.
Once again, it is James and Tom. James cocks his head to one side and narrows his eyes, crossing his arms as he does so.
“See you around, Thomas,” he says.
As the door closes, he turns towards the kitchen, heaving a sigh of relief. He can hear what is going on before he opens the door; but once he does, even his own breath catches in his throat.
Amy is sitting on the floor, cradling Oliver to her, whilst Becca prepares a hot water bottle to soothe his stomach. Oliver himself is close to grey, his normal snowy pallor gone. His dark hair sticks to his ashen face with sweat and James doesn’t know if he the terrifying noises escaping his friend are sobs, or if he is having something of a breakdown.
“I’m sorry,” he keeps repeating over and over, “I’m sorry... I’ll get better, I will, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...”
Amy is crying as well and she is clutching Oliver so hard, as if he will vanish into nothing if she lets go, even for a second.
“I’ve got you now,” she murmurs, “we’re all here. James as well. We’ve all got you, Ollie.”
Oliver just shakes his head, as he clutches desperately to her jumper. His long legs are curled beneath him and despite his height, he looks like a child.
“I’m sorry,” he cries, “I didn’t mean for this to happen... I can’t even...”
The sobs go on and James pulls up a chair, looking down at his friends. A lump appears in his throat as he realises that this is what his closest friends, his family has been reduced to due to a single man; a man who failed to think before he spoke.