"Why did you make the previous chapter(s) so short and un-action filled?" I hear you ask. Well, metaphorically of course. I can't actually hear you or read thoughts. That would be weird. And fun. (evil cackle)
Anyway, to answer your question: I was trying to establish the characters a bit. I think they behave differently in this fic than in others I've read (Especially Oliver and Len- the main characters) so I tried to 'introduce' them. I promise things will actually start to progress now. Don't belive me? Read on and find out yourself!
~Cake and grief counselling will be available at the end of the fic~
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Len smiled at Oliver, making a much welcomed change from his deadly seriousness earlier, and spoke in a more light-heartedly, "I think I like you, Oliver." Len paused briefly, before adding "Do you want to be my- friend?" in a somewhat playful tone, as if he was trying to clear the melancholic atmosphere.
Oliver looked shocked as if Len had just proposed to him and slowly nodded. After composing himself enough to speak, he simply replied with one word. A simple word, but it could just be powerful enough to change his life forever.
"Yes."
Upon hearing this, Len smiled an even bigger smile, as if someone had just made all his dreams come true. He pulled the unsuspecting Oliver into a friendly hug, and something incredibly rare happened.
Oliver's lips curved and he smiled. It was a small, simple smile, but it was a genuine one. For the first time since his parents died, Oliver felt happy. He felt the hope within him growing. He felt like things where finally going his way. The logical part of his brain reminded him that his problems where not gone, and that he had possibly created new ones. But those thoughts where quickly buried under a layer of tiredness and his newfound sense of joy.
Len pulled away from the hug and looked at Oliver, not bothering to hide his amazement at the boy's sudden smile.
"I think you should smile more often," he remarked at Oliver, who had replaced his smile with a look of mild curiosity, before continuing; "You really have a beautiful smile, it makes a wonderful change to your usually sombre face."
But before Oliver could respond, the curse of tiredness reached him, and he yawned.
"Do you… really think so Len?" Oliver blushed and looked down. He was still unused to compliments, although he knew he usually looked sad and depressed. It annoyed him a lot, seeing himself. He had always listened to the taunts people threw at him- that he was ugly and a freak; and he had believed them. He thought it really was his own fault that people hated him, and even went as far as to remove all the mirrors from his house so he didn't have to look at himself any longer.
But could he really trust Len? Or was he just here to lure him into a false sense of comfort, only to reject him later. Oliver decided to trust his instinct with this. His instinct also told him he was tired, and he yawned again.
"L-Len," he spoke, starting a conversation for the first time, instead of just answering to Len's questions.
"I'm tired," he continued, "I would love to stay and chat b-but… I want to go home now if you don't mind…" He grew quiet as his sentence trailed off. Oliver stood up and took another look at Len, who had also stood.
"Would you like me to walk you home?" Len appeared concerned as he said this. It was past midnight and he didn't want Oliver walking home alone. He was also mildly curious as to where Oliver lived and what type of house he had.
"Sure." Was the soft-spoken reply Len received.
They left the park with Oliver leading the way and Len tagging along.
Along the way to Oliver's house, there was small talk between the two.
Actually, it was more like Len questioning his smaller companion and receiving the occasional reply. Although Oliver did not protest to the questions, Len could tell he was quite introverted and seemed to enjoy the silence more. This made a big change to the people Len usually talked too, so he was glad in a way.
A short walk later, Oliver abruptly stopped in front of a large house, or, as Len would describe it, a huge mansion.
I took Len a few seconds to realise this must be Oliver's huge mansion. 'His parents must be rich!' was Len's first thought.
However, after his initial shock, Len noticed something almost strange about the house. Sure, it was as big the rest of the houses down the street, but it seemed to lack something. Unlike the other houses, it was rather plain and boring. It had no fancy, elegant plants outside, nor did it have an excessive gate at the front, as if trying to make people think they are entering heaven. No, it was tidy and clean, but it was almost as if the resident's own sadness was reflected on the building. It was a rather empty looking house internally aswell. All the lights were turned off and there was no movement inside.
'Maybe his parents are asleep.' Len thought to himself. However, it was still unsettling to watch Oliver enter alone, as if he were going into a haunted house. He decided not to ask about Oliver's parents now, and simply said his goodbyes to Oliver before turning away and leaving.
Oliver knew the truth, and was reminded of it every time he walked into his home. He glanced at the picture on the wall. It was a picture of his parents, the kindest people he ever knew. They were dead and no amount of money could save them.
A single tear rolled down his smooth cheeks as he remembered old painful memories, aswell as some good new ones.
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