AN: Holy angst… I honestly have no measure of whether this is OOC or not, so if it is I apologize. It's just a scenario that I know we'll never get, but I can picture it so vividly that I had to write it down… Enjoy! Title and story inspired by Paint by The Paper Kites

As Felicity worked in the lair that night, it was silent. That is, apart from the rhythmic pounding of Oliver's fists against a wooden dummy, a calming repetition. Across the lair, the blonde quietly tinkered with some mechanics she had been developing for a new and improved arrow. The goal was to design a mechanism that would trigger an expanse of the broadhead after the time of impact, causing detrimental damage to areas of the body like the legs, making the arrows more difficult to remove, without killing the victim.

Nights like this one had become the norm as of late, with just the two of them to keep each other company. Lyla was due to give birth any day, so Digg had understandably opted to cut down on his hours spent with the team until after the delivery of baby Rose.

At some point, Felicity began cleaning up her mess of wires and arrow parts, finally finishing and grabbing her coat and purse from her chair.

"Oliver?" She shouted in the general direction of the training mats. "I'm headed out for the night…"

At first, his only reply was the cessation of his noisy pounding.

"Kind of early," He finally said, as he grabbed a towel from a nearby table.

"Uhh, yeah I guess," she muttered nonchalantly. He gave a solid nod, which she took as her cue to leave. "I'll see you in the morning," she shouted over her shoulder with a lazy wave in his direction.

It wasn't until she hit the first step of the staircase that he called out to her.

"Are you… are you going out with him again?" He asked hesitantly, and she took a breath before turning back to face him, a substantial wealth of space between the two, a pretty accurate representation of how their relationship had been since Felicity had started seeing Ted Kord, the CEO of Kord industries.

"Umm, yeah. Yeah, I am," She said looking down, not really wanting to make eye contact, afraid of what she would see on his features.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to… it's just, you guys have been spending a lot of time together lately is all," He said, turning back towards the workout area, his tone implying that he was prepared to drop the subject.

"Yeah, well, that's sort of what two people do when they're dating, Oliver," came her response a beat later and a bit harsher. He was surprised when he turned around to see that she was still standing at the foot of the stairs.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he started before she interrupted.

"Yeah, you did." She said, taking him off guard. "God, Oliver, you don't… you don't get to do this, okay? Throwing out little comments like that? This isn't…" Her eyes were squeezed shut and her hand moved to run through her hair, an obvious sign that she was frustrated. "Ugh, I can't even make a statement without sounding stupid," she whispered to herself before addressing him. "You don't talk to me, you know that, right? You rarely clue me in to what's going on in your head, so anything I say right now? It sounds presumptuous. I… I don't know what you want from me, Oliver," she said, finishing with a sigh.

There was a moment of absolute silence that settled between them, exacerbating the chasm that was already present. That was the problem with them. One was too stubborn, and the other was too passive, and it was constantly forcing them into an uncomfortable position of stagnancy.

She let out a huff of air when he simply remained standing there, staring at the ground, unaffected by her accusation. It was the sound of her heels as she turned to leave that snapped him to attention.

"Does he make you happy?" It was a sigh, an exhale, a simple plea, but somehow the cavernous space carried the words to her. He knew she had heard him when every particle of her being froze, her body facing away from him.

"I know… I know that's not fair of me to ask, but…" he trailed off. It was comical the number of ways he could have finished that sentence.

'but… I care about you.'

'but… It's driving me insane that we don't talk anymore'

'but… if I can't be the one to make you smile, then I need to know that someone else is'

Instead, he settled for a nervous laugh while he scratched the back of his head. It amazed him that she was the one person who could make him feel so small and powerless and lost in his current condition. Then again, she had always been different from the rest.

She couldn't look at him as the words hung in air. Tears prickled at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not now, not when he would be able to sense her heartbreak, not when she was supposedly falling head over heels for another man. She refused to give him the satisfaction of having that power over her, even though she was well aware that witnessing her pain would never elicit such a reaction from the man.

Finally, right as he had given up and turned back towards the training area, he heard her response.

"You know, you're the one who chose not to fight for… whatever this is." The statement was the closest either one of them had ever gotten to discussing the affection they held for each other. "So no, it's not fair of you to ask. But just so you know? Yes. He really, really does," she said, the words soft in the cold space, her voice breaking somewhere in the middle.

He listened as she walked up the stairs, leaving him in the darkness.

He was up for hours that night, working his body to exhaustion before collapsing on a cot in the corner, his mind playing cruel tricks on him. He couldn't stop himself from thinking of her in bed at the late hour, another man's arm slung across her waist. It would drive him insane one day, but the worst part was that he had no right to let it, so long as she was happy.

…

He left her on a Thursday. He had given her an ultimatum to either move with him to Gotham or stay in Starling, and she had chosen to stay. There had been an unspoken tension lying underneath the argument, one that made resentful reference to a certain hooded vigilante.

She went radio silent for 24 hours before showing up at the lair, as if nothing had happened. Oliver wouldn't have even known of the event had it not been for Diggle. He chose not to ask her about it. That didn't seem right after everything that had transpired.

Instead, he asked her if she felt like punching something. She had stared at him blankly before surprising him with a nod.

He egged her on, encouraging her to hit the dummy with force, offering corrections on her posture. Her blows were weak at first, but they became exponentially stronger. As her momentum picked up, so did her emotions, and before she knew it, she was letting out uncontrollable sobs. It was her first time crying since the fallout, the impact of the situation catching up with her. It got to the point where her hits were aimless and violent, and before he could stop himself, Oliver was stepping in her direction. Seconds later and she turned towards the man, collapsing into him, a mess of teary eyes and shaking hands. It was a stark contrast from her usual demeanor, and the difference overwhelmed Oliver.

As he held the broken girl who was usually so strong and unaffected, he couldn't help but contemplate how cruel it was that the things in life that make people happy usually end up destroying them.

He vowed then and there to never hurt her, to never impose such a twisted grief onto her heart, whether that meant maintaining their friendship from a safe distance, or diving in and finally allowing himself to love her in every way she deserved. He vowed to never be a source of crippling heartache for the beautiful girl who would forever be his happy story, while holding onto the hope that maybe, someday, he might be hers.