Hey guys! So so sorry it's been so long since this story was updated! But I appreciate all of the notifications I receive and am so delighted that you guys love this story as much as I do! This chapter finally starts to delve into what happened to Olicity in the past so I hope you guys like what you read! :)
Alas, I do not own Arrow.
Oliver ignored the calls from the other side of the room, focusing his attention on finding Tommy. Only Tommy Merlyn would be impossible to find at his own party. He had arrived late and to be honest, he wasn't planning on going at all. Were it not for Tommy's incessant whining he would have just stayed at home, watched a movie with Thea, and drowned out the threat of the future with cookie dough and root beer. Because he was so wild these days.
But Oliver Queen couldn't be seen not showing his face at a graduation party. At the graduation party. And of course he knew that – one was not brought up in money and unaware of the cost of appearance; showing one's face at a function of any size was of the utmost importance. That lesson had been drilled into him since he was a child. So he put on a shirt, combed his hair, and dragged himself out of his room.
There must have been hundreds of people crammed into the Merlyn Mansion and every one of them insisted on stopping him in his tracks to say hi or ask where Felicity was or just generally squawk pointless platitudes at his face because it was the end of the school year, the end of an era and all that crap they've been spoon-fed since they started high school four years ago. Truth be told, Oliver didn't know half of their names. And he was pretty sure that a lot of them didn't even go to the same school as him. They were just faces. But, digging deep, he offered smiles and responses as he passed, even though he just didn't want to be there. Felicity was still on this 'I'm not moving to London kick' and Oliver was just plain miserable under the weight of guilt he felt. He didn't know what to do. He needed to let her go, he needed to make sure that he didn't stop her from following her dreams, but…God he just didn't know how. He didn't want to live his life without her.
And all that made him terrible company, really.
It took him twenty minutes to find Tommy who, naturally, was in the middle of giving a number of girls from their class a tour of his house, and then it took a whole thirty seconds to decide that he was better off leaving him to it. His best friend was in the throes of dazzling them with his Merlyn charm and dousing them with story upon story of 'this time' and 'that time' and every other 'time'. All Oliver could do was smirk from a distance...and walk off in the other direction.
Somebody, anybody really, would be able to vouch for his presence at the party so he was a free man with the power to leave. He went, showed his face, smiled and left. Seemed good enough.
Unlike everybody there, Oliver wasn't looking forward to leaving school. Sure, he wasn't fond of the whole school thing and while he did get more serious about his studies after he met Felicity, he always knew that academics were not his strong suit. Sometimes he thought that if his life were different, if his parents weren't multi-billionaires but modest workers who lived in a regular sized house and spent the weekends together and didn't have black and white hopes for his future, that maybe he'd give something like architecture a go; or maybe he could be into politics.
The sky could be the limit.
But in reality his sky was much lower. So much lower. The future wasn't bright and sparkly and glittering with excitement and prospect; it was grey and bleak and predictable.
Navigating the mansion, eyes admiring, for what felt like the very first time, the wood panelling and art pieces that dotted the walls, the atmosphere humming in anticipation, jovial laughs exploding all around him, Oliver felt his heart grow heavy with dread.
Was this how his life going to end up? Living in an over-sized house, surrounded by people he didn't know or care for, expensive abstract paintings splashed around the hallways, working, working, working to make more money?
How did that seem fair?
"Oliver?"
He spun around at the sound of her voice. It was only then that he realized he had stopped walking.
"Are you okay? You've been staring at that picture for ages."
Laurel placed a hand in the crook of his arm, concern etched into her brow. He wondered what his face looked like and attempted to school it in a more neutral position. It was weird to see worry in the eyes of someone other than his family or Felicity, and that thought jerked him back to the present.
"Yeah," he finally said, mustering up the smallest smile. "Yeah, I was just trying to figure it out, that's all. I don't think I've ever properly looked at it and I've been in this house probably more than my own."
"It's nice isn't it?" she said, sidling up beside him. The clusters of people shimmied around them, mildly annoyed by their infringement in the corridor. "I love the colours."
The colours? Yeah the red was nice, he guessed. But he was more intrigued by the shapes and the way they overlapped and slotted around one another to make this one big confusing, perplexing mess that had his heart thumping. Who knew a picture could make you feel that way.
Yet instead of extending his interest and carrying on the conversation with a deeper overtone, Oliver merely said, "Me too."
An awkward silence enveloped their little bubble and Oliver felt the need to keep the conversation going even though the last time they had properly spoken had been months, if not years ago, and it provided a definite and absolute end to any kind of romantic possibility between the two of them. He remembered her acting a little scorned at his honesty and remembered how he wished that it had been different. He had been crushed out on Laurel Lance since he was a kid. She was always so pretty but in an unassuming way; she preferred to wear sneakers and jeans rather than the dresses her sister, Sara, always wore; she liked sports and going to the movies and had her own goals and ambitions from a really early age. To him, she was the perfect girl. And then when he finally got her, she wasn't anymore. Bottom line: they just didn't work. There was no big epiphany or moment of sheer clarity; Oliver just knew that they weren't meant to be. It just seemed so obvious.
To him, anyway.
Her, not so much.
And then he met Felicity and everything became so much clearer.
He crossed his arms. "How are you, Laurel?"
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, inhaling deeply and slowly. "I could say I'm fine. I could," she started, almost to herself than to him, "but then I'd be lying. I've been dreaming about college for as long as I can remember. Law school. Starting up my own law firm. Maybe being District Attorney one day. Making a difference. And now I'm graduating from high school and as soon as the summer starts I'm going to be looking for an apartment and moving away from home…" she paused, drinking in her own words. "Do you ever just feel like everything is flying toward you and you're trying to catch it all, take it all in but there's just so much going on that you just…can't? Like you're not prepared enough? Or able for it?" He hummed in affirmation, encouraging her to go on. "I'm excited about my future, I am, but I'm scared, too. I never imagined it'd all go by so quickly."
"What, high school?"
"All of it. It kind of feels like we have to grow up now, you know? I just thought I'd be ready for it, that I'd feel less like a kid and more like an adult. But to be honest Ollie, I don't know if I can do it. How am I supposed to do it? Grow up, move away? When did it all start becoming so…real?"
It was the first time Oliver had ever heard the force that was Laurel Lance sound so insecure. She was usually the picture of calm assurance, so sure in every movement she made, so steady in herself and her ability. And here she was standing in front of him petrified just like the rest of them.
"I wish I was more like Sara," she continued, turning into him. "She's always so carefree. Like she hasn't a care in the world. She breezes in and out, takes everything as it comes, refuses to plan and just seems so much more at peace. Like, without having anything planned she's in more control – does that even make sense?" she tagged on with a quiet laugh.
Oliver nodded, puffing a laugh through his nose. Everyone knew the Lance sisters were exact opposites; Laurel, the uptight brunette and Sara, the blithe blonde. "I know what you mean," he replied. "But Laurel, for what it's worth, I think you're going to be fine. Great, even. You excel at everything you do; you're driven and determined and crazy ambitious. You are going to do all those things and more with your life. Of that I'm so sure. The world is ready for Laurel Lance. And you're ready for it."
A true genuine smile broke out on her face, her eyes glazing over in a film of unshed tears. He couldn't help but smile back, happy that he seemed to offer her something that she needed. It felt good to make someone else feel just that little bit better.
"You know Ollie, you've really become the guy I always hoped you could be."
Before he knew what was happening her arms were around him, pulling him in for a hug. Surprised and just plain reacting, he did the same, not really leaning too much into it but being present enough for her to grip that little bit tighter. In the moment it felt sweet, and he closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds, allowing himself to be at ease with how they were.
That was his first mistake.
When he opened his eyes, he suddenly saw her face closing in on his. His brain computing as fast as it could, he moved his head to the side as quickly as physically possible - but somehow in the wrong direction and her lips ended up on his. That was when he realized all too late that she was aiming for his cheek…until he moved.
That was his second mistake.
Her face said it all, and she backed out of the embrace like she had been burned, expression stricken.
"Oh! Ollie, I…I didn't mean – I'm so sorry, oh my God!" she exclaimed, hands coming up to cover her mouth.
Oliver, completely stupefied over the last couple of seconds, just stood there stupidly staring at her, looking totally flummoxed, hands still patting the air where Laurel had just been.
What had just happened?
Vaguely, way in the background, he was sure he could hear the crackling of gossipy whispers, the trills of giggles, the deep drone of discussion, the gasps of shock, and deep down he knew he needed to do or say something to extinguish this moment from existence because even though it was in actuality an entirely innocent moment between two people, it most certainly will not and already was not being perceived that way.
Technically, the lips of Oliver Queen touched those of Laurel Lance. Technically, that was a kiss. Technically, it was his fault.
But it was innocent. A misunderstanding. A mistake.
But no one there was going to believe him. And nobody was going to back-up his proclamations of innocence. To those outside of the bubble it would have looked like he deliberately turned his head so that their lips would meet. It would have looked as though he was the one who instigated it, who wanted it to happen.
To them it would have looked like Oliver Queen willingly cheated on Felicity Smoak.
That realization sent his head falling into his hands, and his mind spinning. There was no way he was getting out of this. There was no way to explain the truth – not when everyone else would be telling their own versions. Felicity was going to be so heartbroken; sure, maybe she would believe him – and probably would because that was the type of person she was and one of the reasons he loved her so much, but the snarly words of other people who would love nothing more than to see them fall apart would almost definitely have an effect on her.
"Hey Oliver!" one voice jeered. "Where's Felicity tonight? You know, Felicity your girlfriend!"
"Yeah we thought you guys were soooooo in love!" Another one joined in.
"I always knew you liked Laurel!"
"I guess once a cheater, always a cheater!"
"What a jerk!"
"Felicity deserves wayyyy better!"
"…and in front of the entire class!"
The sneers became so cacophonic that each separate one got bundled into one huge mesh of noise.
Laurel, for what it was worth, was similarly mortified by the whole thing, those shiny eyes now crying. Rumours and gossip were the last thing she wanted, too, especially now that high school was ending. No one wanted to finish school on a scandal of any size.
"Oliver," she mouthed, upset.
"I'm sorry," he said, defeated, before charging past her and everyone else around them, frantically surging toward the nearest exit. Those who weren't in the hallway but in another part of the house were now noticing the commotion and making their way in the direction he was running from, making so ridiculously difficult to get through, like swimming against the tide.
Phones were ringing and pinging all around the place and without looking at his own, Oliver just knew that there were now pictures floating around. The final nail in the coffin.
No doubt about it, Felicity got them too. Probably with messages of what happened, of horrible comments on how Oliver Queen was the worst and how her seemingly perfect relationship was all one massive charade.
He couldn't believe this was happening. He didn't even want to go to the stupid party in the first place and now because of that decision his life was going to be turned upside-down.
He knew he should have gone straight to Felicity's house and straightened the whole thing out, tell her what really happened, ignore what their classmates were saying and lay it all on the line. He should have done that. If it was any other time he wouldn't have thought twice about it; he would have made a beeline for her street and never looked back. But this time something was holding him back.
Felicity wasn't going to London because of their relationship, because of him. And talking her out of it was like trying to talk to a wall. She was obstinate and stern in her own decisions.
And he knew he needed to find a way for her to change her mind.
But this? He didn't want it to be like this.
Never.
He never wanted to hurt her.
But she was going to be hurt anyway. All of this was going to hurt her. The damage was done in the split-second it took for him to be an idiot and the split-second it took for someone to witness him being an idiot.
High school was so cruel and now as soon as he was leaving, it was making sure he left it in the most memorable way.
Maybe this was the opportunity he needed.
Oh but how he really didn't want it to be.
When he was nearing his house, he reluctantly took out his phone, half out of curiosity and half out needing to know how bad this truly was.
Twenty-eight messages; over half of them pictures.
One from Tommy that contained a boatload of expletives and exclamation points. He would reply later.
None from Felicity yet. He wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign.
Against his better judgement, he clicked one of the pictures and felt the breath sag from his body the moment his eyes clapped on it. It was the perfect shot. Whoever took it had somehow managed to capture the exact second their mouths met. And he hated to say it – God, he hated to say it – but it looked like they were definitely into it. Like they had planned for it to happen.
His stomach lurched.
Oh God. This was far more real than he dared to imagine.
Even the pictures that captured the seconds before and after looked too intimate. Were they really standing that close? Were his hands really there? Was he really smiling?
Oliver closed his eyes and screamed into the night, so annoyed at himself.
This wasn't good.
It had been a week since Felicity had heard from Oliver. One week, seven days since she discovered that he was The Arrow. Since a whole new side of him had been shown to her. Since everything she had ever known proved to be untrue. Since she realized that the love she had for him had never really left her.
Was she mad? Hell yes!
She and Oliver didn't do secrets and this one, boy, this one was literally the most ginormous one she could dare to imagine. Okay well the not-actually-being-dead one was pretty huge too, but that was kind of understandable. Kind of. Either way, she felt like she should have known it was him. Now when she really thought about and you know, googled images of The Arrow, it was so obvious it was him. The jawline! The scruff! The body shape!
How could she not see it?
Probably because she didn't want to see it.
But she had. And though it changed a lot, it didn't change everything. He was still Oliver. Underneath that steely armour he now wore like regular clothing he was still that boy she loved.
And it was time to get some answers, right? Like actual, real answers.
This revelation looked like it was the start of something brand new. A new chapter, if you will. But in order to start a new chapter, they had to sort out their past. She needed, desperately needed if she was completely truthful with herself, to leave all that heartbreak back there and resolve the pain and confusion once and for all. They were adults now; they couldn't run away from this anymore. There was nowhere left to run to.
She needed to forgive him.
Really, truly forgive him.
Tossing her phone from hand to hand as she paced back and forth in her apartment weighing the pros and cons of calling him, she practically jumped out of her skin when the device popped to life and Oliver's face shone bright on the screen.
God that man had impeccable timing.
Delayed for a few seconds by just sheer surprise, the blonde eventually answered.
"Oliver, hi," she greeted, biting her lip, "I was just thinking about you – no! Not that I was thinking about you, I mean, I know I just said I was but what I meant was that I happened to remember something that made me think of you but like in a totally innocent, not weird way…and, ugh, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. Hi."
His chuckle was so smooth it almost made her melt there and then. Get a grip! she yelled inside her head. "Hey," he responded, sounding relaxed. "Are you busy right now?"
"Right now?" She gazed around her apartment for no apparent reason. "Nope, not right now, why?"
"I was wondering if you wanted to come over to the mansion for lunch? And maybe to talk?"
Talk. Talking was good. So was lunch, really.
"Yeah…yes, I would love to that sounds…that sounds great."
"Great." The smile in his voice was undeniable.
She was grinning too. "Great."
"See you soon?"
"See you soon."
So what did you guys think? Would absolutely love to hear your thoughts! Thanks so much for reading! :)
