a/n: Time-line? What time-line? Spoilers for retrace 82+ because I imagine Oz has some issues he's not dealing with. My headcanon is also that Alice/Oz/Gil are very much an item. Didn't put much thought into this, just trying to outwrite writers block.
I really wanted to title this 'Doth Mother Know You Eateth Her Drapes?' but alas.
"I can't talk sense into him!" Alice announced, crushing her heel into the ground. Her annoyance was palpable, a thing that got under Gilbert's skin without even trying. His eyes traced her tense, irritated movements with an acute sense of sympathy. When Oz got like he did, stubborn as an Ox and immovable as a boulder, there were very few people that could stand to speak with him. He simply slouched over, shut down, and suffered through his anxieties alone.
'I can't burden you with any of them,' he would tell them with a grave little smile that Gilbert once thought courageous. Now he just thought Oz was an idiot with a heart of gold, all his intentions in the right place but with no planning, no consideration for other people. No concern for where his selflessness left his friends.
Gilbert scratched the back of his neck while Alice's fists clenched and unclenched over again, a sure sign she was about to pick a fight. Oz was in the garden and it was spring so there were flower petals littering her wild mane. He stood and plucked them out easily, resisting a smile when she didn't shove him away. Oz had clearly done a number on her, if she was allowing such a casual touch.
Resignedly, he asked, "D'you want me to go talk to him, then?"
To which she replied with a resounding, "Yes!"
In all truth, he had been planning on talking some sense into Oz for a while now. He was getting out of hand again, turning away all offers to talk about what was bothering him. Usually he at least let Gilbert in on what was eating at his maze of a mind, but lately Oz was even turning him down. Alice, of course, usually resorted threats of violence that she never followed through on, but the fact remained that he humoured her for the most part.
This time around Oz simply wasn't having any of it.
When he turned to leave and search out his young master wherever he may be hiding in the garden, Alice pulled him back by his collar and forced him down to her level. Her eyes were firm and annoyed, concerned beneath it all, and Gilbert raised his eyebrows at her.
"Can I help you?" He asked drily, watching her chew her lips in thought. She always did have that habit, the one where she acted and then tried to think things through halfway. It became one of her more endearing traits every once in a while.
"Help him." She insisted quietly. Gilbert cocked his head to the side in response. That was his intention, after all, and Alice knew that. Oz must have said something to really upset her then, and he didn't like that at all. Oz generally avoided upsetting Alice at all costs because she was, despite her insistence that she wasn't, a fragile soul. She took things personally, even comments made as jokes. All three of them could relate to each other in that sense, he supposed. A second later her face smoothed out and she pecked him on the lips, yanking on his dark hair mischievously before she turned and marched to the door. "And bring me back some meat, seaweed-head!"
Gilbert paused, frazzled.
"Hey, wait!" He struggled to the door and stuck his head out. "Where are you going again?"
"To Sharon's, dummy! I told you hours ago! We're going to bond over our stupid male counterparts!" And then she traipsed around the corner of the hallway, leaving Gilbert no room to reply to her. Rolling his eyes, Gilbert collected himself and headed in the opposite direction.
The path to the garden was as it always was: overgrown, sweet smelling, and very nostalgic. Weeds sprouted up between the unkempt cracks in the stone walkway, waving grass encroached on either side, and trees bent overhead like giant, protective arms. It used to be much more refined and elegant, lined with colourful flora that he once knew by name. He used to sit among the daisies, lie down, and take an afternoon nap under an ashen oak tree. He used to explore the gardens intrepidly, with Oz and Ada and numerous cats that he hated.
Now, though, it was a maze of unknown variables and crawling things.
And Oz, of course, was in there somewhere, too.
How perfect a metaphor for the state of Oz's mind lately, weaving and waving with the tall grasses in the garden. The stability he once had, stamped down by years of pretending and hiding and bottling his emotions away, was no more than a dream now. Not that Gilbert would ever blame him, because he knew what it was like to feel alone and to be struggling against a tide of bullshit that other people set into motion.
The problem here was that Oz wasn't alone, not anymore, but he refused to accept any semblance of help.
Gilbert could also understand wanting to get out by himself, independently of the hands reaching to help him, but Oz would never make it. Not when he was neglected by his only family and craved attention, help, for that very reason. Oz needed it, but he didn't want it. And a stubborn Oz was a very difficult Oz to deal with indeed.
Oz was sitting with his back against a tree with a wide trunk, one that he recognized from their childhood. They used to climb it, or rather, Oz used to climb it, and Gilbert chased him up afterwards trying to get him to come down. Ada would giggle at them from below and send her cat up and then Gilbert would be stuck in the tree with the stupid animal, hissing at him from a bough beneath him. Oz would laugh and climb down without him, and then just about die when he realized Gilbert couldn't get down.
He sat down next to Oz, immediately dragging his nails through the soft blonde locks at his disposal. Oz tensed up and shuddered, closing his eyes against the sensation.
"You both do that without asking me. You know I hate that." Oz muttered.
"Calms you down. Makes you easier to talk to." Gilbert told him by way of explanation. "So, are you gonna tell me what has Alice in fits? She called you stupid, you know." He was never any good at making things light, so he decided to get right down to business.
Oz laughed and said, "I am stupid."
Gilbert really hated his stretches of self-deprecation, mostly because Gil loved Oz and wanted nothing more than to shake him and tell him how wonderful he was. It never worked, so he quit that approach.
"That's not the point. You've been... distant, for a week now. What's on your mind?" He wrapped a tentative arm around Oz's waist, pulling him in a little. When he didn't resist, Gilbert pressed a chaste kiss to his ear. No matter how many times he did it, Oz always melted a little, even if it was on the inside. This time Oz flushed, clenched his teeth and tried not to acknowledge it. When he made no move to answer, Gilbert tried again. "Can I help at all? Just give me something here, Oz."
"It's nothing, Gil." And there it was, the fake smile that made Gilbert want to scream. He was sure Alice felt the same way when faced with the insincere pull of lips and the feeling of shame that Oz didn't want to trust them. It was generally an annoying, painful ordeal.
"It's not 'nothing', Oz, so don't give me that." Gilbert mumbled, trying not to let his annoyance bleed into his voice. He sighed deeply, resting his head back against the tree trunk. "We just want to help. We need to help. It's... it hurts to see you like this, Oz."
With his head turned to the side, Oz replied, "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be!" Gilbert gave him a gentle shake, flushing slightly at the idea that Oz felt the need to apologize. The blond remained turned away, shoulders twitching when Gil placed his hands on them. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Oz. We just... we want to help. Everyone does, even Break, believe it or not. We know you're hurting. You have every right to grieve for what you've lost, you know that, right? You can mourn Elliot, and Leo, and Oscar without hiding like this. It might help if you just... opened up to someone, even if it wasn't me, or Alice. A complete stranger would do! Just... stop putting things in neat little boxes and shoving them under the rug, Oz. Please. It's killing you, I wish you saw that. You've been pulling away more often, you aren't smiling anymore, and – hey... hey wait, Oz, are you – are you... crying?"
Oz stood up abruptly and sped away with rigid shoulders, oozing tension. Concerned, Gilbert followed him and reached for his back. His hands were batted away and Oz took a shuddering breath.
"Oz-" There were tears trailing down his flushed face, persevering no matter how many times he wiped them away. He gave up with a noise of frustration and Gilbert's hands rose again, awkward and unsure, hovering in the air before Oz's face.
"Just stop, Gil! Please! I can't – I don't want to hear – I'm so sorry." The teen bit into his lip, chest jerking with every suppressed sob.
"What do you have to be sorry for?" Gil asked, puzzled and concerned, using the pads of his thumbs to smear the tears away.
Oz just shook his head unsteadily, hiccuping and trying to regain his composure.
"Tell me, Oz. Please." Gilbert murmured. His hands lingered on his shoulders, near his collarbone, and Oz seemed to quake beneath his fingers.
"I can't. I just – I can't. I'm sorry." Oz bit out, blinking away a fresh wave of tears and gulping air. "I'm so sorry." He whispered again, looking up through the branches and clenching his fists.
Gilbert carded his fingers though Oz's soft blond locks and smiled gently.
"It's okay, Oz. It's okay." Then he collected the boy into his arms and cradled him there, waiting for slim arms to wrap around his torso before he leaned down and pecked his lips. Oz flushed and scowled at him. Gil chuckled and held him a little closer, smiling faintly when he felt the claws of tension lift from Oz's shoulders. The teen in his arms gave a quiet huff and his breathing evened out, much to Gilbert's relief. There were days that this didn't work and Oz would remain ruffled and unreachable for days afterwards, coming up from his depression on his own.
Oz pulled back slightly, facing up but keeping his eyes shifted to the left.
"Thank you, Gil." He whispered hoarsely, green eyes darting up to meet his for only a second. Gilbert half-smiled and leaned down to kiss him again, then nuzzled his forehead into the crook of Oz's neck.
"I didn't do anything, idiot." Gilbert mumbled, hiding his red face carefully.
"Alice is starting to rub off on you." Oz commented after a moment, pulling away to reveal a shaky smile. Gil shrugged and scuffed the ground. The smile pulling at Oz's lips was a little more genuine when he pulled down on the lapels of Gil's coat and pressed a firm kiss to his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. Gilbert dipped his head a little and swept his tongue over Oz's teeth, meeting the smile with a grin of his own. Then he paused and his eyes went wide.
"Speaking of, she wants meat again. We ran out." Gilbert announced abruptly.
"Right. But it can wait, right?" Oz hummed against his mouth, hands at Gil's hips.
"Oz, last time we ran out of meat she ate the drapes." Gilbert reminded him. After a lengthy pause, the blond let go with a put-upon sigh.
"Fine, fine. But I expect compensation from both of you for this." He retorted playfully, leading the way out of the garden with one hand in Gil's.
"Anything for you, you know." Was his quiet response. Oz's hand tightened around Gil's but he didn't otherwise respond. If Alice were here she would probably berate him for his corniness, but it was the truth. She would probably agree anyway, even if she didn't say so with words. That was what they did, he supposed. They displayed their care and concern non-verbally, through their smiles, their hands, and their lips.
When he squeezed Oz's hand, Oz looked back and smiled. In the end, that was all he had ever really needed the get by.