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the color of genius

Summary:

Adam's point of view on that fateful day of September 29th.

"i just wanna hold you,
i don't wanna hold you down."

Notes:

idk i just really wanted adam's pov bc we know that mf was really sad deep down

Work Text:

“The truth is, we did great. And it’s time we call it quits.”

She stood there, fear and determination flaring in her eyes. It terrified him. 

He knew it was coming to the second Holden congratulated him on his unfrozen research funding and instead of giving himself a pat on the back, he immediately pulled out his phone and opened his contact app to Olive’s number which was stupidly saved under “Smart-ass.” 

He wanted to invite her for dinner. Make her the best meal she’s ever had, order a million pumpkin spice lattes, and convince her that whatever strange farce going on between them wasn’t just a game. That to him, it was real

It was the realest thing he’s ever felt in a long time and he had no intention of letting it go any time soon. 

But yet, it was September 29th. She was standing in front of him, ready to break his heart.

“I don’t think we’ll need to explicitly tell anyone,” she continued. God this is actually happening. 

“I wish you all the best, Adam. At Harvard, and with your real girlfriend.”

Adam wanted to laugh. He wanted her to be his real girlfriend. He wanted her to be his… everything.

He wanted more time. Adam looked down at her to see she was searching his eyes for an answer. He wanted to look away, afraid his eyes would reveal what he was really feeling.

What was he even feeling? Terror? Heartache? The stinging revelation that he was hoping this entire time Olive would change her mind about their stupid deal? 

“Right,” he said, looking down. “Right.” I want to give you the world. For the love of God please let me. Give me more time.

Years, months, even a single day longer would suffice. He just wasn’t ready for right now. Deep down he didn’t believe he was ever ready for their breakup. Could he even call it a breakup? They were never “together.” No matter how much Adam dreamed they were, in the end, they were always going to end up in this situation. He was always going to have this Star Trek loving girl worm his way into his heart and destroy every part of him that was cold and cruel. Now all that was left was her, and he had no idea how to let her go.

“It’s what we agreed on,” she choked out. 

Now she was sticking to the stupid contract? You broke every single rule we set the moment you kissed me in Boston. Now you want to follow the rules? Pretty fucking comedic.

He clenched his jaw watching her, trying to find something to be mad at. The way she wouldn’t stop staring at her was irritating. The way her lips were slightly parted made him want to bring his mouth to hers and never let go. That gut-wrenching feeling in the pit of his stomach begging him to get on his knees and beg Olive to stay pissed him off.

Her eyes. The eyes he always melted in whenever she would look at him lovingly were pools of tears that he wished he could wipe away.

He was speaking. He had no recollection of what he said. The words he spoke weren’t his. No. If it was him, he’d be crying on the ground, telling Olive to stay. To let him be hers. To never walk out that door or out of his life.

She was thanking him now, he thinks. Adam wasn't entirely sure now that he dwelled on it. His mind was a haze of overwhelming feelings he wished would just disappear. 

“Thank you for all the pumpkin spice, and for that Western blot, and for hiding your taxidermied squirrels when I visited, and . . .” She started to turn away. No. Please, God. No.

Before Adam could take in what was happening he was reaching for her wrist, his fingers firmly around it as she looked back with those damn eyes.

Shit. He quickly let go, afraid of acting irrational. As if that wasn't the one thing he wished he could do. It was always going to be about her needs. He knew that. He promised never to be selfish when it came to her, as thing whole fake-dating thing was his idea in the first place. But right now, Adam wanted to be the most selfish person in the world. He wanted to scream, cry, and yell. 

I thought I gave enough reasons to stay. I don’t know how to show my affection that well, Olive, but trust me when I say I’d do anything for you. I know I can’t give you the world but I hope millions of salt and vinegar chip bags would be enough. Tell me what I have to do to make you stay. I’ll do it. I’ll do it for as long as I have to.

“I want you to come to me,” was all he could say. He wanted her to come and never leave. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, kiss her till their lips grew tired, and call her “smart-ass” till the end of time because he didn't think she could ever stop being one. But he didn’t have till the end of time. Adam only had a few hours, maybe even minutes left with Olive, and he didn’t know how to prolong their time because by the looks of it, she was ready to bolt. So when she landed a small kiss on his cheek, Adam had no control of what his body did next.

It was sort of a reflex. A part of him wanted to let her leave so he had space and time to heal, but the other part — the more action-filled part — wanted to feel the outline of her body. No, needed. He needed to memorize every line, curve, crevice of her body as it would be the last time he got to hold her so close. 

Jesus. Last time. He wouldn’t get any more chances like this. There was no one else. For him, at least. For her, well, she had Jer— no. Adam wasn’t going to give that idiotic grad student the benefit of the doubt by thinking his name. Not when he was constantly on Olive’s mind, a place where Adam wished he could take vacancy of. Instead of him, some prepubescent, ungrateful twat got to be the man of her dreams. 

It was idiotic. Who would ever not want the Olive Smith? Even small children were obsessed with her. Anyone not head over heels about this girl was stupid, and the man Olive was infatuated with was one of those fools.

Adam pressed his lips against her forehead, giving every ounce of love he possibly had for her to her. In the end, he had nothing left. 

As the click of his door and the engine of her car died down, he hadn’t realized how quiet his house was until now.

And he certainly didn’t comprehend what he was feeling until he rubbed his face and realized tears had been falling fast. He wiped his eyes with his shirt and realized it wasn't the first time as his shirt was drenched. Maybe some were Olive's tears. Maybe not. God, he was going ballistic.

That part of him that wanted her to stay grew louder, and as angrier as it got, the more its words began swelling in his mind. Words he wished he could’ve told her.

I love you. I love you. I love you.