A/N: This is what I imagine was going through Felicity's head when she went to Oliver's room in Nanda Parbat to finally let him know exacrly how she felt about him. Inspired by Meghan Trainor and John Legend's "Like I'm gonna lose you".

Disclaimer: I do not own CW's Arrow.

I'm gonna love you (like I'm gonna lose you)

My name is Felicity Smoak, and I'm in love with Oliver Queen.

There, I said it. Well, thought it, but, you know, said it in my head. Which counts.

There's nothing cathartic about, it's not like it's a huge revelation to me. Granted, for a while I thought my feelings for him were those of a schoolgirl crushing on the star quarterback of her high school's football team…but then the whole "I'm-the-Arrow-hear-me-Grr"-thing happened, and I was a goner.

I mean, seriously, CEO in designer business suit by day and vigilante in tight leather pants by night: how was I supposed to resist falling? And I tried, I swear! The man was taken, it's like he doesn't know that being single is an option: first there was McKenna and, sort of, Helena. Then Laurel, always Laurel. And, ugh, Miss Ice-Queen Rochev. And Sara.

But then he kept giving me those looks: like I mattered to him, like he needed me. And don't get me started on the way he touched me, like he needed to make sure I was actually there, as if he couldn't relax until he had physical proof that I was there, safe and unharmed.

I think the turning point was Russia. Up until then I let myself believe that someday, maybe, we could be together. It was a dream, something I could lose myself in when times got hard, when I lay awake in my bed, unable to sleep due to certain megalomaniac mass murderers or bomb-collar-toting thieves. Hearing him say that because of the life that he led he couldn't be with someone he could truly care for, it was a wake-up call for me. And I sort of understood. The man was clearly still traumatized, still unable to see himself as the hero I saw in him: PTSD should never be underestimated. I mean, what sane person runs back to the island on which they spent 5 years being put through hell when times get hard? Honestly, only Mr. Martyr would even think about it. Still, no one, and I truly mean not anyone, deserves Isobel Rochev.

And then I met Barry, sweet, normal Barry. Well, formerly normal. I still can't believe he set me on fire… Anyway, he was my attempt to move on from Oliver. It was just so easy, and fun, to be with him. In the end though, being each other's consolation prize wasn't fair to either one of us.

I won't lie, seeing Oliver with Sara hurt. Because he did truly care about her, and for a while I thought what he had said to me in Russia had been nothing but an excuse, a way for him to let "his girl" down gently. Yet, once again, I figured out what he was doing: Sara was just as broken as him, if not even more so, with her he was able to keep sinking into the darkness. Just like being with Barry had been easy for me, being with Sara had been easy for him.

And then he said them, those three little words. For a moment, for an infinite second, I believed him. And then reality set back in, via Mirakuru-cure filled syringe. And once again, I understood. The city was under siege; there was no other option but the unthinkable. So in my own way, I let him know it was okay, I was okay, though I really, really wasn't.

That summer could have been the worst of my life. Instead I saw myself and Oliver dance on the line between friendship and more so often, so obviously, that I began to hope again. Hope that maybe he had meant it after all, that he was finally ready.

So when he finally asked me out on a date I really shouldn't have been surprised when it all went to hell. I knew from the moment I woke up in the lair, bloody and bruised, that Oliver's guilt-complex had buried our relationship before it even began. Postponing the inevitable was all that was left to me. Oh and that kiss…I'd never been kissed like that before, and I suspect I won't ever be kissed like that agin. But I was done wondering. No more maybes, I needed, for my sanity's sake, to move on.

And along came Ray. He was perfect: CEO in designer business suit by day and vigilante in metal armour by night. He loved me and wasn't afraid to let me know and actually act on it. It hurt me to see Oliver suffering because of me, but enough was enough. I wasn't going to wait around forever for him to realize that I was going to be putting my life in danger whether it was by his side or not. That I had made my own decision to protect the city, that when he made me his partner I took on the same responsibilities and dangers that he took for granted for himself.

And realizing how little he valued his own life? How he had been prepared to just throw it away without fighting for it? It just reinforced my decision to let go of him.

But, well, as clichéd as it sounds: the heart wants what the heart wants. I wasn't going to keep leading on Ray. He was a good man and he deserved more than half a heart. And I deserve more than yet another failed attempt to get over Oliver I'm-so-bloody-damaged Queen.

So here I'm standing in Nanda Parbat, ready to finally just tell Oliver how I feel about him, to fight for my damn man. And I'm gonna love him like I'm gonna lose him. Because there's a very real chance that he will disappear from my life tomorrow. I'm sure as hell not giving up, but I refuse to be left wondering about what could have been. I want to kiss him, hold him, love him, because we are running out of time. Even if it turns out to be goodbye, even if my heart breaks, even if it all ends in tears I won't be bound by the same fears that have rendered Oliver unable to make a bloody move already.

I'm Felicity Smoak, and I love Oliver Queen, and if he's too scared to fight for me? Well, then I'll just have to fight for him.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts on this, so please review!