Chapter Text
sunday
Twenty minutes of sitting in silence after the sensation of Oliver’s hand on his shoulder helped ground him again during his… panic attack since when does he get panic attacks oh maybe since he was a flimsy alibi and a few circumstantial evidence charges away from being arrested for murder, and they both still hadn’t said anything. It was killing Connor to keep quiet when this was his… chance? to just talk to Oliver.
Maybe he would actually listen.
“I’ve… I-I can’t stop thinking about it. Us. Um.” Well crap that wasn’t what how he wanted to start this off. He pushed his sweat soaked hair away from his forehead and tried to breathe but all he could smell was that damned smoke.
“And I know I can’t… fix it, fix us, because I… I screwed up”, he said, exhaling deeply and trying to push away the next panic attack that he could feel settling into his skin.
“And I’ve had so much time to think about it, you know?” he asked, slightly hysterical, but what else could he do but talk until his breath ran out because Oliver was just sitting there, watching him quietly, the remnants of sleep still fading from him, and Connor could only remember how he had laughed, laughed, at Oliver and teased him over his freak-out about calling them a couple and Connor definitely didn’t feel like laughing now.
“And I… never apologized.”
It took him weeks to realize it, after fucking nameless strangers and letting himself be punished for it, because that’s what he did; he got into this mess by fucking another man while he was dating (dating, how a stupid simple word could shake his whole world until he still felt the aftershocks months later) Oliver, the only man who actually made him feel something, who actually gave a shit about him outside of how good his mouth was, and he threw it away, for what? A dead man and another man lost and all Connor could think of was how he was smart to keep emotions out of it before, but it didn’t work that way once you were invested in someone. Oliver.
It took him weeks to realize that he was sorry.
(He never had to say sorry before. No one else ever made him regret just… being him.)
“I’m sorry”, Connor whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Connor looked down at the shaggy carpeting that he was intimately familiar with (while he paced in front of the door with stupid insignificant flowers and a hopeful heart) and clutched the fabric into his fists, unable to look at Oliver beause that was the kind of fucked up coward he was, right? The first time he apologized to someone in ten years (because the last time he apologized to someone, he was six and they left him anyways, so what was the point of lowering yourself down and shunning your pride to apologize if it didn’t mean stopping your fucking dad from abandoning you), and Connor still couldn’t look Oliver in the eye while he was apologizing.
His gut churned because he was terrified that this would just go the same way as it did 16 years ago.
Oliver still hadn’t said anything, so Connor took a deep breath and looked back up, only to find Oliver staring at him silently, contemplating.
“You know I can’t trust you.”
Connor gulped but nodded. To be fair, he barely trusted himself to not fuck things up further anyways.
“But…” Oliver paused and Connor took a minute to just look at him, at the darkened bags under his eyes and the tired slouch Oliver was positioned in, and Connor wondered if Oliver was just annoyed at being woken up at 6 AM or if there was a small… tiny chance that he missed Connor too.
(Connor wouldn’t bet on it though, and he quickly squashed down that tiny flicker of hope. He hasn’t done anything to deserve Oliver’s forgiveness, really. He was surprised Oliver didn’t just kick him out now.)
“Maybe… we can just be friends.”
Connor’s breath hitched when he heard that and quickly nodded because this couldn’t be real right?
Friends. He could… He could do that. He thinks. He doesn’t have many people that he could call a friend anymore (everyone was either competition or a good fuck), but before Oliver, Connor didn’t have a real boyfriend either.
(And truly, just being near Oliver? Talking to him again without having to see the look of disgust or pity or hurt on his face when he had to face Connor?
Connor would do anything for that.)
“Friends. Yeah”, he agreed, and for the first time in months, Oliver smiled back at him.
“We should shake on it”, Connor suggested, the brunt emotional situation weighing down on him. Oliver rolled his eyes.
“Next you’ll be telling me that we should sign a contract.”
That… actually wasn’t a terrible idea. What better way to prove to Oliver that he was being sincere that to have a legal agreement on it.
Oliver could apparently read the look on his face because he rolled his eyes so hard that even Connor could feel the brunt force of it.
“No. Or do you not remember that I helped you, a law student, break the law? Several times? Shut up and put your hand out Connor.”
Connor bit his cheek to stop himself from laughing but couldn’t stop the chuckle from escaping his lips. He had a hard time remembering the last person who made him laugh so… easily.
Connor placed his hand in Oliver’s for a quick handshake, and couldn’t help tightening his grip around the comforting warmth that was Oliver’s hand.
He could be okay with this.
He could be okay with just having this.
Because Connor would rather have this small fraction of Oliver’s time, compassion, kindness, than to have nothing at all.