He had been losing focus a lot lately. Not that he had meant to, but not getting a full night's rest for over a week tends to have its drawbacks. He did not even feel that tired, which was surprising, considering how often he was awoken by nightmares in the middle of the night. When he was awake though, his brain would constantly drift and bring those dreams back to the forefront of his mind.
Well, they were not exactly dreams, truth be told. Calling them dreams would imply that they were not real, but they definitely felt real. He could feel his guilt and depression weighing him down, crushing him past the point of having any hope of moving from his hunched position. Staring at his shaking hands in his dreamscape was as real to him as anything that had happened while he was conscious. He knew it was not a memory either, although the feeling of guilt was not foreign to him. The room was not familiar to him though, and the body he was seeing through felt off, in a way he could not explain. He struggled to understand how that was even possible though; they had to have happened, but how could he see a memory that he knew for certain did not belong to him?
His recurring moments of distraction were brought to his attention by a hand resting against his, snapping him out of the memory of what he had seen last. Visuals of a dark, closed off room were replaced by the sight of a friend sitting across the table with a look of concern on her face.
"Oliver?" Myrtle's voice cleared what felt like cotton in his ears.
"Sorry," Oliver said, shaking his head in an attempt to rid it of the few remaining cobwebs. "I… wasn't paying attention. What did you say?"
He was expecting her to look frustrated over being ignored, not for her look of concern to increase. "You're still not sleeping well, are you?"
He took his hand away from her and joined it with the other hand clenched around the warm mug in front of him. Mind being as foggy as it was, he had completely forgotten that he had made hot chocolate for them after escaping the cold outside. It had been snowing for the past few hours, as it often did during Motorville winters, and they had to march through the growing snow piles to get home from school. The drinks were more for warming up their numb hands than anything, but it looked like he actually managed to make a decent mug of hot chocolate for once. He took a sip from his in an attempt to evade the prying question and grimaced, mentally correcting his assumption. Apparently he still left a lot to be desired when it came to his culinary skills.
The brief silence was broken by Myrtle's sigh, shifting her hand back to her side of the table. "Are you sure you'll be fine without me for a few days?" she asked. Right, she had mentioned earlier how she would be gone for an extended weekend because of her father's work. He was going to one of the nearby cities for business, and Myrtle and her mother were going with him to visit family friends that they had not seen in years. Now, as she looked at Oliver in concern, it did not look like she was too pleased with the arrangement.
He tried to put on his most reassuring smile and answered, "Don't worry. I'll be fine. I can take care of myself."
It seemed like he did not do that good of a job convincing her, as she still looked on with unease. "I'm just-" she cut herself off and looked down at her folded hands. She had apparently pushed her mug off to the side already, which he honestly did not blame her for. "I'm just worried about you. I know you can take care of yourself and all, but after the past few days…" As her voice trailed off, Oliver could feel his guilt rising. Watching her be anxious over him made him regret his current situation. He knew that he had no control over what he was going through, but he always hated to drag other people down while he was hurting.
He slid his mug off to the side, removing the, albeit small, barrier between them. "I'll be able to take care of myself for a few days, I promise," Even if he would not get that much sleep during that time, and would have to manage whatever was happening on his own-
His inner monologue must have broadcasted on his face, as her expression changed into something he had not seen in a while. Normally, both of them would awkwardly avoid their issues, too concerned about hurting the other, but at that moment, it seemed like she had given up on skirting around the problem. "What's wrong?" Myrtle asked, although her tone did not seem like he had a choice in answering.
The steel in her voice, although intimidating, did not stop him from trying to spare her from the details of the mess his mind currently was. "What do you mean?" Oliver asked, feigning innocence. "I just haven't been getting that much sleep-"
"That can't be the full story," The force in her voice made him physically flinch, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. "Oliver, I know you. You aren't telling me everything," His hands became a lot more interesting than they were a few seconds ago. He tried to be brave and look at her, he really did, but the hurt that was clearly audible in her voice made it impossible to do so. All of his attempts to not drag her into what he was currently dealing with were failing in the most spectacular ways. Every time he tried to push her away, she just reached further. "Does this have to do with-" She fidgeted, finally drawing his eyes up to meet hers. Her visibly swallowing made him realize how her sentence was about to end, before she even uttered, "-with what happened two years ago?"
They tried not to bring up his almost year long stint through another world. Oliver would have gladly talked about it and tried to explain all that he had seen, but he could tell that there was still some small part of Myrtle that still did not believe him. It hurt, thinking that she did not trust him fully, but he knew that her doubt did not come from a lack of trust. Admittedly, if it were not his own experiences, he probably would not believe it either. He sighed, feeling every mask he had put up to hide his exhaustion slide off, as he could barely muster up enough energy to say, "I don't know."
He could tell that the immediate about-face in demeanor threw her. "What?" Disbelief was laced throughout her question, either from his answer itself or how he delivered it.
"I really don't know," With all of his fake energy draining at once, he could feel himself hunch in on himself. It seemed like too much energy to even sit up straight. "It's nothing like what happened to me back then, or-" Brief glimpses of saplings springing out of the earth drew him short, making him admit to her and himself, "-not exactly."
Oliver had been trying for a while to not connect his current dreams with the visions he had experienced before. He knew where those had come from, or at least thought he did. The new ones did not feel like the old ones though. They did not feel like messages; they were too random to feel like anything, really.
It was almost as if she was connected to him, as Myrtle's voice sounded void of all energy when she quietly asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"No," Oliver must have replied in the entirely wrong tone as a look of hurt flashed on her face. He back pedaled, started with, "I mean-!" then cut himself off with a sigh. That was one thing he was realizing that he was far too good at: accidentally hurting people he cared about. With a voice significantly smaller than it was moments before, he said, "You've already done enough by listening for this long."
He could not look her in the eyes, he did not feel like he deserved to, yet she brought his gaze back up to her by grabbing his hand again. Once she knew she had his attention, she smiled, one that was a lot more comforting than his fake one was, and said, "You could've actually explained what's going on though, instead of just dodging around my questions."
The light tone that Myrtle had spoken in was a relief compared to the seriousness that had begun to occupy their conversation. Even so, he still felt guilty over not being able to reassure her of her worries. "I'm sorry. I barely know what's going on myself…" His attempt at an apology trailed off, as he felt like he had no other reasons to justify his deceit.
Before he could mentally close himself off again, he felt her squeeze his hand in an attempt at comfort. Dragging his eyes back up to meet hers - Oliver had not even noticed averting them until that point - he was met with a look of complete understanding. Her uttering, "It's okay," in the most reassuring voice he had ever heard was what caused an honest smile to grace his features. For the first time in a long time he did not feel like he had to make up excuses or hide his emotions. He could just be with her, not particularly doing anything, and relax.
Both had lapsed into a comfortable silence, content with sitting with each other as some odd mixture of company and support. Oliver was the first to clue into the fact that at least he had completely lost track of time while they were talking. He furrowed his brow, and begun to ask, "Weren't you supposed to be home-" when he was cut off by Myrtle springing out of her chair. Apparently she had realized the problem right as he did.
He scrambled out of his seat to attempt at following the flurry of activity that was Myrtle dashing for her coat, only for him to sprint back to the table for her discarded gloves. Frantic words were spilling out of her mouth, how she was supposed to be home an hour ago, how she was going to be late for work, and they were only stopped by him handing the knitted garments to her. She smiled as a quick show of thanks before throwing on her coat and moving towards the door. As she opened the door and was met by the cold she paused. Those brief moments of hectic activity were a welcome relief to the awkward tiptoeing around each other that had been the majority of their interactions the last few days, but her sudden stop seemed to remind Oliver that they had just begun to rectify the situation. She turned to face him, concern slightly returning to her features, and said over the wind, "Promise you'll be okay?"
He smiled again. Although it still showed how tired he was, he could tell that it comforted her a bit, knowing that he could muster up the energy to do at least that. "I promise," The look of relief on her face made his last shreds of guilt disappear. She seemed to hesitate at the door, as if she wanted to say, or do, something else, but settled on a wave and shut the door behind her.
Standing in the hallway as the last chills brought in from the snow left the entrance, Oliver marveled in the fact that he actually felt relaxed. He could fix things, or at least he could mend the strain between him and Myrtle. He had no idea how to help himself with the rest of the problems that he was facing, but for once that pressure did not seem to be crushing him where he stood. With a smile of contentment still on his face, he headed back to the kitchen to grab their mugs. Maybe if he was lucky, everything else would get better over time.
And it begins! This fic has been in the works for a very long time, and I hope you all will enjoy reading it as much as I am writing it! This series is going to tackle a lot of the concepts and questions I had left after I beat the game, and how I personally see these characters' stories continuing.
