Author's notes and warnings:

I wrote this before episode 4x10 aired, so I guess it's an AU now. It might be a little melodramatic and the ending is a bit cheezy... I guess I couldn't help it!

Good reading... hopefully!

After a long day, and an even longer evening spent at the hospital, with the police, learning about Simon being alive and Laurel having her baby in one of the worse situations possible, Annalise had told her ex-students and Oliver to all go back to their place for the night. They would talk later, when they weren't all so frightened and in shock.

Michaela and Asher had gone home together, the young man with an arm around his girlfriend's back while she was laying her head on one of his shoulders.

Oliver and Connor had gone home silently, the older man not even glancing at his boyfriend on the way to their place. The younger man hadn't dared to say anything, in case he'd be told off or something. His mind was going a mile a minute, though; he was thinking about how everything had gone so bad, so fast – again. It was like they had all been doomed since the moment of their birth, because how the same few individuals could be so unlucky as to be surrounded by death all the time?

When they got inside apartment 303, Oliver got his coat and shoes off. He went directly towards the bedroom, taking out some clothes for the night, and then straight to the bathroom, closing the door behind him quietly, without even a word to Connor who had been watching him like a hawk, silently and dejectedly.

After the door was closed, the young man took a deep breath, feeling as if he had kept it inside since Oliver had said that they could all go to hell – including the hacker himself. He then took off his own shoes and coat, putting them away in the closet, and turned towards the living room.

The blankets fort he had made only the day before was still there. It seemed like an eternity since that special moment when he had proposed to Oliver, which had certainly been the happiest time of his life so far; he was doing something good with Annalise for a change, there were no more talks about murders, what his father had said to him was like a distant memory and, most of all, Ollie and him were actually in a really good place… before everything had gone to hell.

Maybe we're just not meant to be, he thought sadly and bitterly while cleaning up the room, taking the blankets down morosely and throwing some of the pillows and cushions on the couch after replacing the furniture to its original setting.

He then went into the bedroom, changing clothes for the night, hearing the sound of the shower in the next room, before going back to the living area, laying down on the couch where he would undoubtedly spent the night, if he had read the other man right. Not able to sleep right away, his thoughts kept swirling around in his already crowded mind.

Oliver didn't need this. If Connor hadn't met him in the first place, none of this would have happened. The hacker would still be working at his – albeit boring – job, he probably wouldn't have been tested positive for HIV and he would be safe… from Connor, from whatever curse or string of bad luck which seemed to follow him and the others. Oliver wouldn't certainly risk facing going to jail right now. Connor was a poison and he was slowly killing the older man and everything that made him who he was – the reason he fell so hard for him in the first place. He had tried so hard to keep the other man away from that part of his life – the murders' cover up of Sam and Sinclair especially –, but he had failed miserably, getting him even deeper into the heart of it all instead.

How did he even think he would be able to have a normal life after everything that had happened? That he would be able to marry the man he loved after letting him down so hard?

Connor closed his eyes, a few tears escaping from them onto his cheeks, and he buried his face into one of the pillows underneath his head, trying, but failing, to fall asleep.

Oliver got off the shower when the water began to cool down. He dried himself and put on some clothes for the night before standing in front of the cabinet mirror, his two hands on each side of the bathroom sink to help keep his body steady, his legs being a little shaky at the moment.

While he looked into his own eyes through the glass, he thought about everything that had happened during the evening and if they could have done something differently. He snorted softly. Of course they could have done things differently!

He could have said no to Laurel and Michaela in the first place, he could have kept his mouth shut about putting the blame on Simon and Laurel could have left the gun at her place – what had she been thinking, anyway?!… Those were just a few things he could think of right now. And, of course, they could have listened to Connor to begin with, when he'd told them all this was a bad idea. Even if the timing was wrong and the circumstances were dire enough as they were without being reminded of them, his boyfriend had been right earlier: it was the biggest "I told you so" ever!

But it was too late now… Too late to do anything about it, except maybe… tell the truth? Was it too late for that, too? Probably… Oliver didn't know anymore.

How could the ex-student go through all of that before and not lose it completely?

Connor… The older man hadn't said a thing to him since Annalise had told them all to go home. He hadn't even looked at the other man once, remembering what he'd said about sending Frank with a pillow to take care of it – meaning Simon. Deep down, he knew his boyfriend hadn't exactly meant it, but, at the time, these words had instilled fear inside of him: he didn't want the man he loved to become this completely insensitive person who felt nothing towards death and killing someone – anyone. But, now that he was actually thinking about it, Oliver realized it wasn't the case. On the contrary, the younger man felt too much about these things and the hacker had been too shocked or disgusted to see it. But now, he was remembering that night – the night Sam had been killed – all too well… The way Connor had been panicking on his doorstep, how he had been hyperventilating, almost to the point where he could have passed out right outside his – their – apartment. He also remembered another night where his lover had been so completely out of his mind; presumably, that had been the night during which Sinclair had died.

After a few more minutes of trying to steady his shaky legs and fast beating heart, he took a deep breath and got out of the bathroom, thinking the younger man would probably already be in bed, waiting for him, but it wasn't so.

The apartment was plonged into a half-light, and still as quiet as when they had arrived. There were no lights on, except a couple in their bedroom, and the TV was also turned off. But there was something else different: the blankets fort was down, as if it had never been there in the first place. And Connor… Connor was nowhere in sight. Worried, Oliver went to the living room, stopping dead in his tracks with relief when he saw the ex-student laying on the couch. The man's head was hidden into a pillow.

"Connor…?" whispered Oliver, in case his boyfriend was actually asleep.

But Connor jumped slightly, sitting up and wiping shiny wet trails of tears on his face with his hands. He seemed to be surprised to hear the older man talking to him. Letting him have a shred of dignity, Oliver didn't ask about the tears, but there was one thing he needed to know.

"Why are you sleeping on the couch?" he asked lightly, frowning.

After a few minutes of silence, besides the soft sniffling coming from the younger man, the hacker thought he wouldn't get any answer, but the ex-student suddenly spoke, with a somewhat raspy voice.

"Hum… I… I thought you needed some space or something…" Connor said hesitantly without looking at his boyfriend.

"What…? Why would you think that?" Oliver asked gently while going to sit next to the other man who moved a little to make place for him.

Connor took a cushion nearby and put it in his lap, his hands nervously playing with it. The younger man shrugged, clearly uncomfortable and looking sheepish.

"I just… I don't know. It didn't seem like you wanted me around, especially after what I said earlier… that's all. I mean, I don't blame you…"

Oliver could have slapped himself if he hadn't already thought about how the other man would react, a few minutes earlier. Sighing sadly, he turned on the couch so he was facing Connor, adjusted the pillows behind him so he would be a little more comfortable and then put a gentle hand on the ex-student's back.

"Connor, come here," he said softly, but the younger man moved away from his touch, shaking his head in the dark, still without looking at his boyfriend.

"No, it's fine, really," he replied. "I… you're right, I shouldn't have said what I did; it was a pretty cruel thing to say. I guess I was right when I told you we were bad people. I am a bad person and you shouldn't have to deal with that. I tried… I really tried to get you away from all of this, but I… I couldn't. I'm so sorry… I should just leave."

Oliver couldn't – wouldn't – let that happen, especially not now. When the other man tried to get up from the couch, the hacker took him by the arm and pulled him carefully, but insistently, towards his own body, putting his left hand on the side of his face.

"Ollie…" whispered Connor brokenly.

Before he could continue, he was interrupted by Oliver's soft lips against his own, in a gentle but firm kiss which he couldn't resist answering to. It lasted for a few minutes, stealing both their breath out of their lungs, before Oliver put an end to it and leaned his forehead against the other man's. He took the cushion out of Connor's hands, throwing it away onto the floor, and, with one arm around the younger man's back, the other still on the side of his face, he closed the distance between the two of them, allowing his lover to hide his face against his chest while they were laying down on the couch. He tightened his hold around his boyfriend with both arms, making slow circles on the small of his back with his right hand.

After a little while, Connor could talk again without dissolving into sobs.

"You shouldn't be doing this," he murmured, sniffling softly. "I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around."

Oliver kissed the top of his head and said:

"Well… maybe this is exactly what I need. Feeling like I can take care of someone. I don't blame you for what you said at the hospital – about Frank and the pillow. I mean, I did at the time. It was a really awful and heartless thing to say, but… – and don't take this the wrong way – you usually say insensitive and dumb things like that when you're anxious, not comfortable with something or around someone and when you feel like you have no control over whatever is going on. So I know you didn't exactly mean it; at least, not the way you said it. And I know you want to protect me from everything, but… I'm also at fault here, and I understand it now. It was wrong of me to lay it all on you, Michaela and Asher. I was just thinking earlier, in the bathroom, that I could've said no to Laurel about that plan of hers, but I didn't. I'm the one who suggested we pin everything on Simon in the first place and I feel bad about it, but it's not a reason to make you all feel even more guilty than you already do."

Taking a slight pause, his lips close to Connor's forehead, Oliver continued:

"I've wanted to be a part of your little group for a long time now, mostly because I wanted to be closer to you and to have something more in my life than just a normal, boring job, but I realize now – probably way too late, I'll admit it – that I don't need all of this to feel… 'alive'. I just need you. For a moment, tonight, when I saw Laurel, Asher and Michaela, covered in blood, in that office… For a moment, I swear, I thought it was you who… until I realized it was Simon."

Taking a deep breath, his voice cracking slightly, the hacker went on:

"I know it makes me a bad person, but, for just one second, I was relieved it was him there and not you. I also know that it couldn't have been you, because you had just called me, but… I don't know. I guess I was in shock or something – first time seeing an – almost – dead body and all… I can't even believe you went through something like this a few times before without losing your mind."

Connor nuzzled Oliver's shoulder through his shirt, keeping a firm hold on one of his boyfriend's arms with his hand.

"I had you," the young man whispered. "I had you everytime. You're the only one who stopped me from losing it completely, who stopped me from…"

The ex-student interrupted himself before saying too much, but it was too late. There was no way the other man would let this slide.

"Connor…? What were you going to say? Stopped you from what?" the older man asked anxiously.

Connor sighed heavily, closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he said:

"Remember I went running the morning after the day I told you I had seen Wes in Annalise's basement before the fire?"

"Yes…" Oliver replied hesitantly, his now shaky hands holding Connor a little bit more, afraid of what he would say.

"I… I saw a bus coming and… I almost… I thought about it, you know?"

Shrugging one shoulder, he stopped talking, but Oliver seemed to need him to spell it out for him.

"You thought about what, Connor?" the older man insisted, his voice rising slightly, tension surrounding his muscles all of a sudden.

"I… thought about jumping in front of it," the other man admitted in a whisper.

Long minutes passed before neither of them said anything. Connor didn't know what else to add and Oliver was totally speechless. He had known the ex-student hadn't felt okay in a long time, but not to this extent. The hacker finally moved his head a little, enough so he could see his lover's face, even in the darkness of the room.

"Have you ever felt like that again?" he asked seriously, thinking about what Laurel had said to Connor that very same day.

You need to go and kill yourself. That's the one good thing you gonna do in your life; you can go and you can kill yourself, Connor.

Seeing the younger man hesitate, he tried to prompt an answer out of him.

"Connor?" he said warningly, his fingers brushing the short hair near the man's ear.

"Maybe…" his lover finally whispered, not wanting to keep secrets anymore – secrets and lies were their downfall. "I felt… weird lately, like I wasn't able to do anything with my life, so… this one evening, when you texted me to say you were working late, I drowned a bottle of wine. I was going to… huh… going to this guy's place, but I went to Annalise's instead and told her I was jealous of Wes because he didn't have to deal with anything anymore. After that, she asked me to help her with her class action suit…"

While his boyfriend was telling him all that, a lump had grown into the older man's throat, threatening to take his breath away. One of his hands went to his mouth, trying to stifle a sob that made his way out of his throat anyway.

Worried, the younger man sat up on his knees between Oliver's legs and, this time, he was the one who hugged the other man's body between his arms.

"Hey… I'm still here, Ollie," Connor said, kissing his boyfriend's temple. "Both those times, I thought to myself that I couldn't do that to you. My sister would probably find a way to resurrect me just to kill me again, anyway."

Oliver hit him in the chest, not amused by his comment.

"Too soon, huh?" Connor murmured. "I'm sorry."

Oliver laughed, but it wasn't a real laugh.

"I wasn't really working for the firm that night," the hacker admitted shamefully, his words slightly muffled by his lover's shirt. "I was working on Laurel's plan with Michaela…"

"I kind of figured that out by now," the other man sighed sadly.

"…and I hung out with Simon to distract him from what we were doing. I'm so, so sorry, Connor."

Even though he was a little hurt by that last comment, which was a little unfair considering he had just admitted a minute ago to almost going to another guy's place, the young man still held his boyfriend until the tears stopped. Finally, they moved away a little from each other so they could look at their face even in the half-lighted room.

As they were about to kiss some more, they suddenly bumped their foreheads slightly in the process. Swearing and laughing softly, they finally found what they were looking for. Their lips moved by their own volition; their hands made their way under their clothes, removing each item one by one until they were both completely naked.

They took their time exploring, touching, caressing, tasting and pleasuring each other, reveling in the presence of the other, the life that was coursing under their skin. A simple pressure of their hips against one another, the touch of a hand on each other's back, a kiss made on a particular sensitive spot were all little but electrifying sensations and enough to bring them both to completion.

It wasn't until they were both calmed and sated that they realized how much they'd needed this kind of release. They were face to face, on their sides on the couch, foreheads touching, with both their eyes open even if they couldn't clearly see each other because of the darkness surrounding them. Connor's right hand was on Oliver's left, sweaty hip and Oliver's left hand was on Connor's warm back.

"I need you to tell me if you ever feel that bad again, okay?" whispered the hacker with a concern tone in his voice.

Connor nodded; the movement was felt against the other's forehead.

"Okay," he murmured in turn. "No more secrets or lies between us, alright?"

Oliver nodded as well. They kissed some more, moving their body as close as they could, and, when they came back for air, they both said simultaneously:

"Marry me."