"EVEN IF I FALL IN LOVE AGAIN WITH SOMEONE NEW, IT COULD NEVER BE THE WAY I LOVED YOU"
Billy Malone
In hindsight, I know that I had missed, or had maybe chosen to ignore many things concerning my relationship with Felicity Smoak.
The way she never lets me place a protective hand on her back when we're walking across the streets or when I'm leading her into her favourite restaurant. The way I automatically chalked it off to the fact that the chip enabling her to walk was placed there which was the reason my hand couldn't be.
The way I've been staying in her loft for weeks now, and I've yet to go into the balcony because the doors always remain locked. The way I believed her immediately when she told me that she lost the key and was too lazy to get a new one.
The way there is no physical evidence of me anywhere in the loft. No pictures of us framed on the wall or on the refrigerator, or on tables. In fact, there aren't many pictures of us anywhere. I simply told myself that she was camera shy, and preferred to be the one behind the tech, not in front of it.
The way Oliver Queen was still Felicity Smoak's emergency contact; something I figured when the Mayor called me at the hospital when Felicity fell down a flight of stairs. The way I convinced myself it was because of the years and years of friendship formed between the two of them; the close friendship that refused to die even after their engagement did.
They way I ignored the uneasy feeling whenever Felicity refused to accompany me as my date to parties she knew Oliver Queen would attend; and since he was the Mayor and I was a detective that worked under his city's police force, he was present in the events that I was present in more often than not. I thought I understood her reluctance because of the awkwardness between two individuals who were so close to the point of engagement, only to have all that shatter. So I let it go. Like I did most things.
Tonight is an example of one of those times, I think, as I undo the button of my coat, and give it to the lady in front and walk into the lavish hall that's decorated accordingly to commemorate Quentin Lance's birthday; a kind gesture prompted by the mayor. I look around and spot Oliver Queen himself, surrounded by several City officials, and walk over to the other side of the room, where the police department crowds together.
We're in the middle of talking about yesterday's football match when the Deputy Mayor and Mayor do the customary rounds.
"Nice party, Mr. Mayor," Detective Pike shakes Mr. Queen's hand, as the man himself, bashfully, straightens his tie.
"It was all Thea. I don't have a decorating bone in my body."
Lance smirks and bashes Queen jokingly, "Oh, believe me, I know. I was the poor officer that was privy to the awful posters and decor in his room when he was a teenager."
The group around me laughs, and I feel myself shaking with laughter as well. Despite the fact that he is well aware that I'm dating his ex-fiancée, Oliver Queen has been nothing but kind and courteous to me. In fact, I'm in charge of security along with John Diggle for this party.
I excuse myself from the group and walk over to the tall, bulked man at the corner, whose job is to make sure that every guest has an invite, and that the ones who don't are prevented from entering.
"Everything going smoothly, Kent?"
He smiles at me, nodding once in affirmative, "All good Sir,"
I give him a pat on the back and make my way back into the party, grabbing a chute of champagne at the same time as Oliver Queen.
He gives me a tight smile and nods, "Detective,"
I raise my glass to him, "Its Billy, Mr. Mayor."
He lets out a laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides, making me remember why I was always so hesitant to ask Felicity Smoak on a date at first; how can you compete with Oliver Freaking Queen? "If I'm going to call you Billy, you might as well call me Oliver,"
I give him a nod, suspecting that I won't be able to call my boss', boss', boss by his first name, but not wanting to tell him.
He clears his throat uncomfortably, and after a brief hesitation that one wouldn't have noticed if they weren't a detective, he asks me, "Felicity didn't come?"
I wince slightly. I know what he's trying to do; he's trying to make sure that the subject of my girlfriend and his ex won't be something that is going to affect our work ethics the next time we have to work together, but the topic is uncomfortable at the least, and probably the last thing I want to talk about. However, I appreciate his efforts in taking the first step in closing the Felicity awkwardness between the two of us.
"She, uh, had some coding that she needed to finish. You know how she gets with her coding."
He huffs out a nostalgic chuckle, "Ya, ya I do."
And since we've already taken a step forward, I decide that we might as well cross the bridge itself while we're at it. Better now than during a mission.
So I say, "I hope it's going to be okay with the two of us working together given that I'm dating your..."
He finishes for me, "Ex-Fiancée?"
I nod and take another swing of my champagne only to find it empty. The action gives the Mayor enough time to formulate his next sentence; a very long one in fact.
"What happened between me and Felicity...was entirely my fault. I was the one that caused her to end our relationship, and I know I hurt her. All I want, is for her to be happy. If she's happy with you, if you can give her that, then I'm okay. Then we're okay."
I don't have enough time to respond. I don't have the time to do anything actually.
Because before I can get another word into the conversation, before I can fully make a decision concerning the relationship I have been in for a few months, Kent screams into the large hall, his boisterous voice echoing, the fear and panic bouncing.
"BOMB!"
It all happens in a second. But I know that the orange and yellow flames, the people hurling through the air, and the blood soaking the walls will forever be engraved into my mind. I've seen many things during my short period as a detective, but I've yet to come across a bomb. Not until today.
I suppose it's the reason why, as soon as Kent yelled the word into the hall, I froze.
And the only reason why it isn't my blood splattered on the walls is thanks to Oliver Queen.
Because the second Kent yells, I'm being shoved backwards and behind the podium by a firm grip, and the next thing I know is the ringing in my ears and the pounding of my heart, and I'm unable to formulate any thought, any sentence beyond that.
And not even seconds after the bomb has blasted, Oliver Queen runs out of his hiding spot, and charges into the gruesome hall, surveying the people and helping the ones who still have breath in them.
And if Oliver Queen, ex-billionaire playboy who was spoon-fed almost everything growing up is getting up immediately after a bomb and running around the place, then I, a detective and cop, can most definitely do the same.
It's where I find myself a few minutes later, helping Oliver, Quentin and several others, identify dead bodies, help the injured and calm down those who are in obvious shock.
A commotion at the door raises all our attention, as the Mayor was clear on not letting anyone in, suppose the bomber was targeting one person in the room. I vaguely acknowledge the other cops in the room mimic my actions and raise their guns in the air, but I put mine down when the voice arguing with Kent and his partner at the door is the same voice I've been going home to for the past few weeks.
"I swear to God, if you don't let me in I will technologically ruin you to a point where you..."
I feel my brows scrunch in worry at the hysteria in her voice; sounding choked and clogged with tears.
Oliver calls out her name in confusion and something that can only be described as salvation, "Felicity,"
At the Mayor's recognition of the voice, Kent moves out of the way, and she comes barrelling in, hair messed, and face red and blotchy, as she scans the room for the person she's been worrying about.
She spots him and sobs out his name in relief and love, "God, Oliver,"
The next thing I know is that she's in his arms, her hands wound around his neck, her tears coating his back.
"Thank God! I thought...I thought. I saw the bomb and you..and..." She hiccups her words, and Oliver runs a soothing hand over her back, resting it on the spot where I know her chip is.
"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. We're all fine."
We're
It's as if the use of the plural pronoun finally strikes something in her, and her head shoots up from where it was resting on Oliver's shoulders until her gaze lands on mine, eyes wide as if she hadn't thought of me until now.
I suppose it would have hurt more if I hadn't decided to break up with her the minute Oliver told me all he wanted was for her to be happy.
It's only after I break up with her in the middle of a blown up party hall to both our reliefs and I get home to my apartment for the first time in weeks, that I allow myself to see what has been in front of me this whole time.
It comes in the form of several videos. Even before Oliver Queen was Mayor of Star City, he was a Queen, and the Queens garnered a lot of attention from the media; it also happened to be that Felicity was in charge of a multimillion-dollar company left to her by Ray Palmer, so the two of them were constantly photographed, interviewed, and filmed.
I know that I had missed, or had maybe chosen to ignore many things concerning my relationship with Felicity Smoak.
The way in every single photo taken with Oliver Queen, even after her injury, even after her spinal chip, after their break up, his hand is always placed protectively, securely on her back. Sometimes it's running along her spine, other times it just rests there, but never is there one photo of them walking without his hand on her back.
The way that out of the many paparazzi photos taken of them without their knowledge, most if not all of the photos of them are on the balcony; Felicity's locked balcony. They're either sharing a meal together, sitting on the loveseat wrapped up in a blanket, looking at their city with her head resting on his shoulder, or looking at each other with his hands resting on her hips and her arms thrown around his neck; whatever their doing, the obvious sign of love and peace is evident in every single shot, no matter how grainy.
The way Felicity and Oliver held an interview to advertise her company and his campaign in their home; Felicity's loft. The way, the camera operators and producer loved to pan to the many photos scattered around the house of Oliver and Felicity. There are many of them vacationing together. One with her, Oliver, Thea Queen, John Diggle and several others I have never met. Plenty of printed out selfies taken by Felicity of them in a nice suburban house, in bed, under the stars. When asked about the pictures, Oliver is the one to respond, "Its all Felicity. She loves to take pictures. Loves to get them framed and hang it wherever she can even more."
The way every party Oliver Queen attended, Felicity Smoak was there, long before they actually got together; years before they actually got together. Felicity Smoak was a permanent fixture beside Oliver at every function, auction and event.
There were many things that I had missed, or chosen to ignore concerning my relationship with Felicity Smoak.
It's only after we break up that I realize that the extent of her love for Oliver Queen was not one of them.
"AND WHEN I LOVED YOU, I REALIZED, I HAVE NEVER TRULY LOVED ANYONE, I REALIZED, I NEVER WILL TRULY LOVE ANYONE THE WAY I LOVE YOU"
Billy Malone broke up with Felicity Smoak because she will always be in love with Oliver Queen.
I know that I haven't been posting as often as I used to, and I wish I could tell you that updates will happen more regularly...but I can't. I'll be going away for a month and I have my schedule packed so tightly with my friends adding on, that I doubt I will have enough time to write, edit and post new chapters. I'm so sorry in advance for the delay, and I hope everyone understands and has a great summer!
PinkMedow