"Oliver, I'm sorry, but you know I don't think of you like that."
Those words rang in Oliver's ears. Sure, he had prepared for rejection, but he never thought it would actually happen. No, this couldn't be real.
His dejected blue eyes met Amelia's pitiful ones, his pale fists beginning to clench the end of his shirt. "No, no it's fine. You've told me before - I don't know why I thought things would be any different now."
The taste of copper made its way into the Brit's mouth as his teeth bared down on his bottom lip, and simultaneously he plead for the hot red of his face and ears to go down, it likely being a sign of not only his embarrassment, but also the tears that stung his eyes and were threatening to fall at any moment, should he continue to stare into those deep pools of ocean blue he loved more than anything in the world.
"Listen, if there's anything I can do to make it up to you..." Amelia said, placing her hand on Oliver's knee, to which the Brit just raised his hand, holding it in front of her. "There's no need. I'm fine, really."
The American woman gave him a concerned look, not believing his words. "Are you sure?" she asked, furowing her brows at the Englishman.
"Of course I'm sure," Oliver reassured, mustering up as much of a fake smile as he could manage. "I'll see you later, Amelia," he said, standing up and walking away. "Oliver, wait-" Amelia tried to stop him, but he was already out of the door.
_
"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Oliver screamed as he lie awake in bed. His pillow was being firmly pressed against his face by his pale hands, muffling each of his words, something he was thankful for, lest he alert the neighbours. Sweat drenched every part of his body; he had been screaming like this for hours.
"I should have known. She could never love someone like me," he told himself. And kept telling himself, all throughout the night. Hour and hour went by, sleep seeming to allude the pink haired male. He had torn up his bed; his sheets and blankets on the floor, and pillow still covering his face. All whilst he sat curled up in a ball.
And during those hours of thrashing, crying, screaming, kicking, and cursing himself for being such an idiot, Oliver had come to one, simple conclusion. The only way for him to have Amelia would be for him to take her. And the only way for him to have her heart forever would be to take it by force.
_
Morning came, the bright sun shining in through the thin pastel pink and blue curtains, and illuminating Oliver's room; a soft glow of yellow touching the Englishman's face. His eyes squinted at the sudden light. A small groan filled the large room, and the person responsible for such a noise rolled over. He hadn't quite realised how close he was to the edge, and ended up on the floor with a thud.
"Butterscotch..." Oliver grumbled quietly, his voice quiet and hoarse - a result of having just woken up, and the hours he had previously spent in tears.
He attempted to stand to his feet - just barely managing to do so - wobbling side to side, and having to use the edge of the bed as support.
A piercing noise rang through his ears, a noise that took Oliver a few moments to discern what it was. His phone!
He quickly sifted through all the blankets and sheets that were strewn across the bed and floor, finally managing to locate the device. He picked it up, fumbling with it for a minute before pressing the green button to answer the call and holding it up to his ear.
"H-Hello...?" the gravely British voice asked.
"Hello? Oliver? Is that you?"
Oliver paused for a moment - it was Amelia on the other line. Why was she calling him? Why would she call him after she shattered his heart?
"Yes..." the Englishman said, his tired voice holding a cold tone that he had hardly ever used before.
"Are you okay? You don't sound so good... listen, I'm coming over to check you later, okay?"
Oliver gulped, noticing how dry his throat was. "Fine."
He brought the phone from his ear and hung up, the pain of hearing her voice too much for him to handle.
He threw the phone to the ground and stuffed his face in his hands as he flopped onto the bed. Time seemed to slow for him; the world spinning; his eyes closing to ease the pain of the headache that had made itself known.
And four words escaped his lips.
"You will be mine."