Archive of Our Own ^beta

That’s the first thing that comes to his mind as she turns, her eyes wide with surprise when she realises it’s him.

They’re even sadder than they were at that damn party of his, somehow, and he has to stop himself from getting closer to her.

He’s not exactly sure he has the right to. Not anymore.

“Otis.” 

Her voice is so unusually small - vulnerable, really - he almost takes his chance, but then she seems to shake herself a little, eyes more focused as she goes on. "What the hell are you doing here?”

Well, he can’t say he doesn’t deserve that.

If the look on her face is any indication, he should, however, say something, 

And the thing is, he's ready - he’s ready because he knows what he’s done, because he finally knows what he wants, because he knows what he has to say, what he needs to say.

He’s ready, but it's clear she's miserable, and it suddenly makes all that he’s prepared, all that’s he’s dying to finally tell her come second. 

“Are you okay?”

Her eyes flicker, but apart from that, Maeve doesn’t let anything else escape. 

"I’m fine." 

And she’s not angry. She’s not even dismissive, but yet, this feels like one of his biggest failures. Yet, this is even worse.

He’s about to speak again when Otis suddenly realizes where they’re standing - which is not in front of her caravan.

"Right. Am I - am I bothering you?", he says, gesturing towards the house he’s just understanding she’s coming out of. "I mean, I can come back."

She turns around, as if she doesn’t understand what he’s talking about, before shaking her head.

"Oh. Yeah, no, I was just..."

Sighing, half annoyed at herself, half tired, he thinks, Maeve looks back at him. "There’s no milk for the omelet," she simply shrugs. "And I'm hero of the day, apparently, so."

He chuckles at that. "You really are, though - congrats on the big win of the day, smarthead. And you do look great on screen, so maybe you could think of that as a career option as well."

"You think the BBC will accept my audition for new weather girl?"

"With that bowtie and exquisite yellow shirt? Oh, absolutely."

She does crack a smile at that, and if he didn't know it already, the butterflies that come from seeing and creating that smile despite whatever is weighting on her would have been proof enough of how in trouble he is.

(Still is, despite the weeks, despite his best, useless efforts.)

"Well, my hour of glory hasn't come yet, so I still have to go get that milk by myself. What did you want?"

Right.

Breathing in, Otis burries his hands in his pockets, trying not to fidget too much.

"I just wanted to - Huh, have you had a chance to get a look at your phone today?"

"Not really. Actually," she frowns, starting to pad her own pockets before swearing in her breath when she doesn't find anything. "Perfect - I left it on the fridge. Why?"

He's not sure whether he's more relieved or disappointed at her answer.

"Doesn't really matter. As I was saying, I simply wanted to apologize again - for the other night, but also for everything else, because -"

"Alright, Otis..." she sighs, tightening her jacket around herself.

Taking a breath, Maeve looks back right into his eyes, and smiles a half-hearted smile. "I told you, I'm not mad, okay? I know you're sorry, and I know you were drunk as hell. And this is not me refusing your apologies, or starting a fight, or refusing to hear what you have to say, but - but this is really not the time," and he could swear her voice shakes a bit at that.

"I'm not mad," she says again, softly. "But...Can we do this another time?"

And it's hard, really. It's hard, because he wants so badly for her to hear what he has to say. If he's being honest, a part of him even thinks that it will make everything better for her, too, no matter what's troubling her, but it's so arrogant to think that, isn't it?

He doesn't know what's happening in her life, and that's on him, and he would be such a dick to presume that his words need to be heard despite her current problems and state of mind, or, worse, that he could be the answer to anything.

(Especially now that he remembers her mentioning her mother, and her having to babysit her little sister and God, he's been such an ass.)

He'd like to at least stay, at least just be here, because leaving her like this really isn't something he's looking forward to, but again - Again, he would be such an asshole to stay just for his sake, or to assume that it's his presence she needs, when clearly, she's seeking comfort elsewhere.

Otis' pretty sure her omelet companion is the same guy that was with her at his party. He's probably the one she goes to when she needs someone, now.

Once again, that's his own, stupid fault.

So, Otis just nods.

"Right, sure - I mean, I understand," he smiles, despite the weigh in his chest. "I'll just be on my way then. Is there anything I can do to help?"

She frowns. "Help?"

"Yeah, I mean...You don't seem like you're okay, and it's perfectly fine if you don't want to talk about it, of course, but - But if I can do anything to help, just let me know, okay?"

For a few seconds, Maeve just looks at him, her expression unreadable. She just...stares.

It gets to the point where he's about to say something just to break the silence, but then her eyes drop to the floor before she looks back at him, a small smile on her features.

"That's alright, dickhead. Just don't trip on your way back."

He laughs, shaking his head at her usual lovely way with words.

"Always so charming. Well, I'm on my way, but - please take your phone though," he says, cringing internally because he knows full well that he sounds like an over-protective mother.

And sure enough, here's the look. "And don't roll your eyes at me, young lady: it's nightime and you are a celebrity now, so watch out."

The corner of her mouth goes up again, and right now, Otis figures that's all he can ask for. 

Taking a step backwards, he smiles as well. "Goodnight, Maeve. And when you got the chance...Check your messages, okay?"

And, with a last glance, he's gone.

She doesn't knock, and when she opens the door, he looks like she's frightened him.

"Oh, sorry - just me," and he chuckles, relieved.

"Jesus, woman, you nearly gave me a heart attack there. That and the chair, that would have been a bit too much."

She rolls her eyes. "I bet that wouldn't have stop your dramatic side, so at least there's that. Forgot my phone," she explains, heading back outside, said object in hand. "See you in a few."

She's already got the door half closed on her way out when Isaac speaks again.

"So you're going to listen to it, huh?"

Stopping in her tracks, she turns around and meets his eyes, not really sure what he means. "When he left, I was afraid you were going to run back for your phone, but you didn't, so I thought 'Thank God, she decided to go and just get the damn milk and crisps.'"

He chuckles. "Full ten minutes it took you to get back. The fact that you hesitated so much must mean something, right?"

"Have you been listening to us?"

Isaac just shrugs. "I have. And I really don't think you should listen to whatever that guy has to say." There's a slight pause before his next words.

"That's why I deleted it."

For a moment, Maeve is speechless.

Surely, she's not understanding right.

It can't be, really. At one point, it just gets ridiculous. Otis, her mom, now Isaac - and that's only in the last three days, and that's without all the previous disappointments she's had the pleasure to deal with before. 

At least she's been right. People always do let you down.

She doesn't have the words yet: she just feels that wave of feelings she can't quite identify, all going wild and making their way into her chest, because fuck, that day has been so shitty. She can't speak yet, but that doesn't stop him.

"You don't need that right now, Maeve," and she looks back at him. "After what just happened, you don't need all of his shit. You have to stop letting people manipulating you, and - "

"Because that's not what you're doing, right? Manipulating me."

For a moment, they just stare at each other.

"You know I'm right. Just like I've been with your mom," and she really has to breath in at that one.

"Wow, that was classy."

"But it's true. And I've seen how that douche talked to you the other night, you can't possibly think - "

"For myself? That's what you're saying, right? Because Wiley over here is such an idiot, she must need a knight in shining armor to come decide for her."

He sighs. "I care about you, and I'm just trying to help you, Maeve. And you know I'm right."

"I think you're wrong on all fronts there, actually," she cuts, anger now shooting through her veins.

She's so tired. 

Shaking her head, Maeve puts her phone into her pocket, and heads out. "I think I'll pass on that omelet, thanks."

This time, she's already a few steps from his caravan when he speaks.

"He's not good for you. And he certainly doesn't deserve you."

Maeve stops, but doesn't turn around. "Maybe. But neither do you."

And, with that, she's gone.

He doesn't call Eric.

He wants to, but then he remembers the look on his friend's face when he got out of the auditorium with Adam, the hapiness that made Otis himself smiled, and he figures tomorrow will be good enough. That's alright.

He realizes that's the first time in a long while that it's been alright, actually.

He has been the biggest asshole, and there's still a lot to make up for, but - his best friend's happy, his mom has forgiven him, he figured out his dad a little more, and he's finally, finally seeing things clearly.

Otis can't believe it took all of that to get here.

She's right: he's such a dickhead.

He's about to shamelessly continue his binge-watching of the night when his phone lights up somewhere under the covers.

The name that pops up is enough to stop both his laughter and heart at the same time.

Not really in a night robber kinda mood - mind opening the door for me?

He sits up so quickly, his laptop almost goes off flying. Of course, he should have known better than to think his whole 'new me' day came with a new found smoothness.

Getting up as best as he can, Otis try to not overthink as he makes his way downstairs a little faster than needed, the questions he's trying so hard to ignore bouncing around in his head.

Somehow, it all stops when he sees her.

"Long time no see." She smirks.

"Nice pyjama. So you decided not to party with the rest of the cool kids, huh?"

"Yeah, I think I'm going to stay away from parties for a while now. You?"

"Same as you, actually: a drunken dance boy kinda messed the last one for me, so."

He winces at that, despite her teasing tone. "Well, if that can make you feel better, there's videos of said dance all over Instagram, so that one point for karma here," and he does get a smile at that.

There's an awkward silence, then, and Otis is erratically looking for something to say other than 'Did you listen to my message' or 'Can you please forgive me', when Maeve puts him out his misery.

"I don't really want to be alone tonight," she says suddenly, her eyes carefully avoiding his. "Can I sleep here?"

She looks back at him, then, and here it is again - that softness, that vulnerability that feels like she's freaking putting her heart out. The same one he saw at the clinic when he waited for her, at school when she told him how she felt. 

He thinks he's never been more in love with her.

"Yeah - yeah, of course. I - I'm watching The Office," he burst out stupidly, cursing himself for being so pathetic.

She doesn't seem to mind, though. "English or American?", and it's his time to snort.

"Please - Ricky Gervais all the way."

"Alright, then."

And, just like that, Maeve is in her house, a small smile she's trying to hide on her face.

On their way, she makes fun of the lecture he must have gotten from his mother after the party, and he takes it, grateful she's forgiven him enough to be here.

As she kicks her boots off and gets under his covers, she makes some snarky comments about his room, and he takes it, so unbelievably happy that she doesn't throw the stupid things he's done in here lately in his face.

When they settle down, and she silently takes his arm to put it around her shoulders, closing any space left between them, he holds her tight, wondering what he could possibly have done to deserve that.

They're halfway through an episode he'll know remember as the one that made her laugh so hard, he felt it against his own chest, when Maeve speaks.

"Today has been a really shitty day, you know," and his hand tightens around her shoulder, bringing her even closer.

"I'm sorry. At least it's over, now."

"You've been really shitty too, lately."

Closing his eyes, Otis winces.

"I know. I'm sorry," he whispers, hoping she knows just how much he means it.

There's a slight pause, and he thinks she's not going to answer, but then her voice raises again.

"I didn't get your message. What did it say?"

How about that.

After his mom has stolen his job as sex advicer for the whole school, his first girlfriend is now in a happy relationship with the oddest human being in England, his best friend has started an idylle with the guy that has bullied him for years, and Otis Milburn is abut to confess his love to Maeve Wiley in his pyjama, in front of an episode of The Office.

Funny, how life can surprise you, sometimes.

"Well, I don't remember it word for word, but...I left it while I was watching you on TV," he starts. "I told you how proud of you I was. How unbelievably stupid I've been. I told you that I was so obsessed with doing the right thing, that I forgot what it was, and that was...that is you. It's always been you." 

It suddenly feels like all the air has left the room, but Otis owes it to her. So, just like she did a few days ago, he tells the truth.

"I love you, Maeve."

Well, there it is.

Except not quite. "Oh, and then, I asked you to call me back," he rushes, "and I said that I hoped I wasn't too late and - yeah. That's about it, I think."

Of course, he has to leave it awkward. Eric would be wetting himself, really.

At that moment, Otis isn't quite sure what to think - what to feel. There's relief, and excitement, even something close to happiness. 

He's not exactly sure how much times passes, but at one point, there's also something quite like panic building in his stomach, but then she burries her head even closer in the crook of his neck, her hair coming to chuckle his skin, and he can feel the hand that's been resting on her stomach grab his shirt.

"Alright - I'll think about it."

Otis can feel as much as hear the small smile in her words, and, fighting his own grin, he focuses back on the screen.