terms of love
Robert didn't say 'I love you'.
He hadn't easily since adolescence, when suddenly and inexplicably a gulf up opened between himself and others, especially other children, and gaped ever wider until it seemed only vampires and butlers could bridge it when they stepped across many piles of books. And then after his parents' deaths Robert ceased saying it altogether. It wasn't because of fear; perhaps he'd just decided not to use affection lightly anymore. Save the words for when he meant them.
It became a habit, not thinking in terms of love.
And now staring into the expectant-gentle face of Oliver when Oliver was extremely sick in bed and very pale and very weak and they'd sincerely worried, with Johnny and Enrique's looks askance from Oliver's sides, wondering, also expectant in their own snotty-daring-threatening way, with Miguel and his team filling the door, but turning back when Robert was too silent. About to ditch, staring a second with disappointment and demand…
They wanted something Robert didn't feel prepared to give.
That phrase, I love you, and he couldn't judge anymore whether— And if he didn't mean it, what if Oliver heard that in his voice? Like mom and dad did?
a/n: Goes with the next!