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Summary
“Are you fucking happy now, Felix?” Oliver hissed. His hands were fists, clenched, so beyond humiliation that he was incandescent with fury. It was worse that Ollie wasn't looking at him. Just at the wall, a dark stain showing where the wallpaper had peeled. “I told you. I fucking told you I couldn't come back here. What part of that did you not understand?"
“I just wanted…”
From a tumblr ask - what if Oliver hadn't lied about his upbringing?
It's not a fun one, pals.
