A/N: Lol, so it totally started off as a Lackson...but I'm sorry, in the end, I just couldn't do it! Lol. Kidding. This truly was meant to be a Loliver when all was said and done...what can I say? I'm a Loliver fan.

It's not like I expected him to put me before every last obligation, every last thing, in his life. It would have been insane to have expected him to call me every morning, to text me every hour, to get together with me every weekend. But it would've been nice to know I was before a few things in his life. It would've been nice to know I wasn't last on his list.

I don't even understand what happened…he used to be so nice! He used to flirt with me all the time. I don't even know why I agreed to be with him…everyone warned me. But…it can't be over!!! It can't be over! It just can't!

Tears flooded my face as my mind raced, and I began crying so hard I was making a scene. It was the middle of Chemistry class with Ms. Xander, who could care less if someone were seizing on the floor and bleeding at the same time. She didn't even so much as glimpse over at me. She simply continued hiding behind her computer, like she always did, because she never actually taught. Instead, she expected us to read the textbook, complete all the problems, turn them in, and then take a test. Ms. Xander was one of those frustrating teachers that were under the impression of being a babysitter in lieu of a teacher.

Miley glanced over at me from across the room worriedly and gave me a reassuring smile and the kid beside me rolled his eyes. Before everyone in the room could shoot glares my way that I would catch, I placed my head down on my desk. I just wished to drown out the world. I hated the world. It was so stupid and guys were idiots!

I didn't want to break up with Jackson. He had been so sweet to me at first, and everything had been wonderful...but lately all he could do was make up stupid excuses as to why he couldn't call me or why he couldn't do this or why he couldn't do that. Everyone kept telling me that I could do better, that I was too cool for him. I knew I had to break up with him. But...then I'd be single again. I didn't want to be single again...

Someone slid a piece of paper under my arm. Maybe Ms. Xander was handing back tests or graded papers. I looked up; it was a note from Oliver, who was sitting behind me. Curious, because Oliver had never written me a note before, I unfolded it and read:

What's up sleepy head?

I sighed; Oliver was so oblivious. Either that, or he was curious as to what was wrong but didn't want to seem nosy. I reached for my purse and found a pen so that I could respond.

I'm not tired…I'm upset

I slid the note back behind me, and within seconds the note was back on my desk.

Y??? Is it Jackson want me to beat him up 4 u

Slightly, I smiled. Beating up Jackson…at the moment, it didn't sound like such a horrible idea. Jackson would deserve it.

YES

I returned the note to his desk, and this time his reply took a bit longer.

Never mind, he hasn't done anything really to me. I'm tired anyways. Maybe next week! Lol.

I scowled. Why did he even bother to ask?

You are such a loser!

This time I angrily handed the note back to him, and when it returned my anger mutated back into depression.

No, that would be you, because I'm not in a relationship that upsets me over and over again.

Of course he had to go there, didn't he?

Yeah, well…you have me there. Happy? You win.

I was hoping that Oliver's note would cheer me up…. so far, it was only furthering my depression. I slid the note behind me and his response annoyed me even more.

Yes, very happy, I get to torment you all the time.

I almost stabbed the paper with my pen.

Good. For. You. As long as you're happy!

But what he wrote next threw me off.

I'm happy because my pen clicks.

I raised an eyebrow.

Because your pen clicks?!

Being happy because of a pen was probably the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard in my life. Again I found myself questioning: what was he doing? Trying to cheer me up? Or not? Parts of his conversation seemed to be written to see me smile…others, not so much. It was all so weird.

Yup, it's fun you should try it.

I examined my own pen, which certainly did not click. And I didn't even bother to search through my purse; I knew that I did not own a single clicky-pen.

My pen doesn't click, I wrote with another deep sigh.

That sucks, I'll lend you one.

I turned around in my seat actually amused, to face Oliver as he searched through his pencils and pens. Finally, he pulled out a black clicky-pen and handed it to me. I smiled a little, not happily, but still. It was a smile nonetheless.

A large grin spread across his own face, "I love my clicky-pen!" he stated enthusiastically. I observed him carefully, and then looked down at the pen as if it were the most amazing object in the world. I returned my gaze to Oliver after a few moments, not ready to turn back around in my seat. Ms. Xander wouldn't mind, anyways.

"Yes," I said slowly and thoughtfully, "this clicky-pen makes everything better."

He stared at me, cautiously; this time it was his turn to observe me. "Are you serious?" he questioned, his eyes narrowing, "or are you yanking my chain?"

"Well, I was being a bit sarcastic because in reality a pen cannot solve my problems…" I trailed off, clicking the end of the black pen a few times, "…but I do like this pen."

He shrugged, "Any small insignificant thing can make a big change, you just don't realize it yet."

I rolled my eyes, "Since when did you get all deep? Still reading your mom's magazines?"

"Does it matter?" he challenged.

"I guess not," I replied, chewing on my lower lip, "but only because maybe you're right. It is the little things that mean the most. The little things are what make your day."

"Yes, clicky-pens and X-Box 360 save my life!" He laughed, and I did too.

It was a strange sound at first; I had not laughed in so long. I'd been so wrapped up in my 'miserable' life, crying myself to sleep every night over some guy that didn't even care. Oliver's chocolate brown eyes suddenly looked deep into my own icy blue ones, and for the first time ever at all I understood how one could become lost in a pair of eyes.

"What makes your day?" he asked seriously.

A shiver ran down my spine, and quickly I broke the eye contact, "Umm...I, well..." I stuttered, "I--I don't know yet. I'll--get back to you on that." And I turned back around in my seat, my face oddly flushed.

I focused on the clicky-pen, using it to doodle pictures of flowers and stars and hearts inside my Chemistry notebook. I really was beginning to like the pen. I wasn't sure if he expected me to merely keep it for the day or not, but I'd decided no matter what, he was never getting it back. It belonged the me. It was my clicky-pen. The ink was so pretty, so dark, and it flowed nicely from the pen. It wrote really well, and it clicked--I loved it. And Oliver gave it to you, the back of my mind added, that's the real reason you like it.

I had to admit it: Oliver had cheered me up. If it hadn't been for him, I'd still be obsessing over stupid Jackson, bleeding my eyes out over him all day long. Oliver somehow always knew the right thing to say to me, knew the right thing to do that made it all better. Today, clicky-pens had saved the day. Though I'll probably never get back to him on it, I now know the answer to Oliver's question. Clicky-pens and Oliver Oscar Oken, together, save my life.