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Oliver groans inwardly to himself as he slides his key into the lock and turns it. He’s already dreading seeing the other man because he’s not sure he’s got it in him to be civil at the moment. And as much as he tries to tell himself that it’s not a big deal–don’t get so upset over it–he just can’t help himself.
He was a bundle of nerves the entire time at the doctor’s office. After waiting, and waiting, staring at the clock, repeatedly checking his phone, and a damn half an hour had passed in the waiting room, he finally calls Connor’s phone… only to get his voicemail. He had promised, promised that he would be there for Oliver’s doctor appointment. The dreaded first of forever three month checkups. And he missed it.
Halfway through the appointment, his thoughts rapid firing between the results of his viral load test as he’s getting his blood drawn, and Connor potentially dying in a car accident on his way to the doctor’s office, he finally gets a text on his phone.
I am so so SO sorry. Things are hectic with the Sinclair investigation. I’m not going to make it to the appointment. But they’re releasing us soon and I’ll be home waiting for you with your favorite take out. I am so sorry, Ollie. Is everything going okay?
Oliver’s initial relief that the other man is alright is quickly replaced with anger that Connor had missed the appointment because of–big surprise–work. He can’t even count how many dinners, movie nights, and date nights Connor had missed or been late to because of his work for Annalise. But now he can add one more to that list. He’s so mad he doesn’t even bother responding right away, and instead, waits until he’s in the parking lot to give a brief, curt response.
Yeah. On my way home.
Spitefully, he hopes the message was able to convey that he’s not okay, and he’s not over it. And as much as he doesn’t want tonight to be a giant fight over a missed appointment, he’s still pissed. And it’s been a long time coming. It also doesn’t hurt that being mad at Connor helps take his mind off more pressing issues currently residing at the forefront of his thoughts–has his treatment been effective these past few months?
It’s impossible not to worry about it. Because no matter how many times his doctor tells him, no matter how much research he reads about how effective modern day medicine is, all the science that makes his head spin, he’s still terrified that the antiretroviral drugs aren’t doing their job. What if he’s the exception? What if the science is faulty? What if it was something so trivial as someone making a mistake at the pharmacy? A mistake that could literally take years off his life?
He sighs as he pushes the door open and enters the apartment that he’s been sharing with Connor since nearly the beginning of his diagnosis. He’s suddenly so tired, so exhausted from his day. The only reason they had such a late appointment is because he refused to take time off work to do it. And now all he wants is to eat dinner on the sofa with his boyfriend, wrapped in his arms where he feels safe and loved, and not fight.
Of course, that thought immediately goes out the window when he looks around the apartment and quickly realizes that Connor is not home.
It takes him by surprise how absolutely furious he is. He’s usually not the type of person who gets upset easily. He prides himself on keeping his cool, and remaining calm in the worst of situations, but this seems to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.
He whips out his phone and dials the first name in his recent contacts list. Shockingly, the other man picks up after the second ring.
“Ollie–”
“You’re still not home?” He hisses.
“I know. I know.” The other man says softly. “But I–”
“I thought you said you’d have dinner ready when I got back. Yet here I am, standing in an empty apartment.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. They just let us out. But I’m going to pick something up right now.”
Oliver bites his lip to keep himself from saying something he doesn’t mean. Connor’s continuous apologies sound like a broken record to his ears.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll be home soon, I promise.”
“You seem to be making a lot of promises you can’t keep lately.”
“I… I’ll make it up to you–”
“Yeah, whatever.” Oliver hangs up the phone and slams it on the counter harder than he meant to. He bows his head and tries to get a hold on himself. He takes a few deep breaths as he tries to rationalize it in his head. He knows it shouldn’t be a big deal. He shouldn’t expect Connor to prioritize his life, his appointments, his health over his own. But it’s starting to feel like everything Connor does revolves around his work–his silly little internship with Annalise. The ridiculous hours that he puts in, nights and weekends too. Sometimes, it feels like Connor’s just using him as an escape from his work life. Like he’s just around so that Connor has someone to come home to. But lately, it’s even starting to spill into their private life.
He sighs and shakes his head. He straightens and removes his jacket, and throws it onto the couch lazily instead of putting it back in the closet where it belongs. He’s not sure what he’s doing, but mindlessly, he starts pulling items out of the fridge, throwing together some recipe that he knows by heart. He knows that Connor will bring back take out, probably his favorite order from his favorite Thai restaurant. But, he’s stubborn and maybe even being a bit childish. And maybe he just wants to prove that he doesn’t need Connor there, to be at his appointments, by his side, and to bring home dinner for him.
Maybe he’s being pigheaded and difficult, but a part of him really wants a fight. At least it’ll be one part of his life that he has some control over.
Not long after, he hears the front door open behind him, but he doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t even make a sound to acknowledge his presence. Until he feels Connor behind him, and the other man places a large brown bag of take out on the counter. From the size of it, there’s probably four entrees in there. Almost as if he’s trying to compensate for something.
“Hey.”
Oliver forces himself to unclench his jaw before he can respond. “Hi.”
“You’re still mad at me,” Connor says softly.
Oliver doesn’t look at him. He just continues to silently chop vegetables.
“I’m sorry,” Connor whispers. “I’m sorry I forgot, there was so much going on today. I told myself this morning–”
“You forgot?! Really?!” He finally looks up to glare at the other man. “My first major three month check up appointment, and you just happen to forget? You know how I felt about this one. Are you kidding me, Connor?!”
Connor kind of looks like he wants to crawl in a hole right now. But it doesn’t do much to calm Oliver down.
“I’m sorry…” he whispers again. “They were grilling us on Sinclair’s death. It went hours longer than I thought it would. I mean, I–I was a mess all day, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. Please just–”
Oliver bites his lip and looks away, returning to his vegetables. Connor looks like he’s about to start crying, and it’s always easier to stay mad when he doesn’t have to look at him. “You know, at some point, ‘I’m sorry’ just isn’t good enough, Connor.”
From the corner of his eye, he can see the color drain from Connor’s face.
“Oliver… what are you saying?”
“What the hell is going on with you, Connor? You’ve been acting so weird these past few weeks. I’d have to be an idiot not to notice.” Oliver finally sets the knife down–half scared he might cut his own fingers off accidentally–and glares at the other man. “You spend ridiculous hours at work. You’re never here. And when you come home, you never want to talk about it. And suddenly you want to transfer right at the end of your first year? All the way across the country? Am I not supposed to be suspicious about that?!”
Connor’s lips fall open slightly, but no words come from them. Oliver scoffs in response. “You know, it’s almost like there’s something you don’t want me to find out. What is it? Are you cheating on me again? Is that it?”
Connor’s eyes widen and he immediately starts frantically shaking his head. “No. No no no.”
“Connor, I swear to god if you are…”
“I’m not!” He insists. “I’m not cheating on you!”
“Then what’s going on with you?” Oliver shouts. “You’re hardly ever home. You spend all your time working on cases, interviewing witnesses, prepping clients… Excuse me if I find it a little hard to believe that a first year law student spends forty hours a week, on top of coursework, working for an unpaidinternship. And now you suddenly want to throw it all away and transfer? So this was all for nothing? You must think I’m an idiot–”
Connor shakes his head sadly. “Ollie, I’m not cheating on you,” he whispers.
Oliver huffs out a breath dejectedly, a wry smile on his face. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Sorry if I find that a little hard to believe. I mean, you did it once, right? I took it on faith that you had a change of heart. But people don’t change that easily, Connor.” He shakes his head as it all comes out, months of pent up frustration that he can’t hold back anymore. “I never understood why you stuck by me after my diagnosis. Why would you put yourself through that–”
“Because I love you!” Connor says it like it’s obvious.
“But why?” Oliver screams. “And why then? You barely knew me!”
“That’s not true,” Connor whispers.
“It is though! You barge back into my life after months without contact. Suddenly, you like me and you want to spend more time with me. Suddenly, the guy who’s never had a relationship in his life, wants a boyfriend. You! The guy who was allergic to the domestic life, and the next thing I know, we’reliving together. And I let you back into my life, no questions asked… maybe I am the idiot.”
“Why are you saying these things?” Connor asks softly, tears pooling in his eyes.
“Why are you lying to me?!”
“I… I can’t tell you.” Connor looks away and visibly takes a shaky breath. “I told you before… it’d put you in danger.”
Oliver scoffs as he remembers the numerous conversations initiated from his end that Connor always brushed off, usually by dragging him into the bedroom. “Right. Of course,” he says dryly. “How could I forget? Your big secret. The really, really bad thing that you did, that you can’t tell me about.”
“What do you want me to do?” Connor asks in a small voice. “I can’t tell you, Ollie. Anything but that.”
“How are we supposed to build a life together, Connor?” He shakes his head sadly. “How can we do that when you’re lying to me? Keeping secrets from me? Half the time I don’t even know what the hell you’re doing. You’re spending all this time at work. Are you even really there, doing what you say you are–how would I know? And I… I try not to be suspicious… but…”
“But you still don’t trust me,” Connor finishes for him softly.
“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to…”
“After all this time?” Connor asks, his voice cracking. “You still think I would do that to you?”
Oliver looks away when he sees a tear fall down Connor’s cheek. A hint of guilt stabs him in the chest, and he sighs softly. “I don’t know,” he finally mutters.
“I would never hurt you like that again, you’ve got to know that.” Connor says desperately, trying to get the other man to understand. He takes a step forward and reaches out for Oliver’s arm but the other man pulls away. In shock, he slowly lets his hand fall to his side. “Ollie… I may be a lot of things. A liar, and a cheat… I’ve never hid from you that I’m not a good person. I’ve done worse things than you can imagine. But I–I’m here because I love you, I need you. And I’d never hurt you if I could help it.”
“I…” Connor sighs softly when Oliver refuses to look up at him, choosing instead to stare at a dirty mug that was left on the counter to his right. “You’re right, okay?”
Oliver whips his head to stare at him, eyes wide in shock with a hint of betrayal.
“Not about the cheating,” Connor says quickly. “I’m not cheating on you. But you’re right to be suspicious. Because… I’m not a good person. And when I came here that night, and kept coming back… and moved myself into your life… it was all selfish.” He chews on his lip before continuing. Oliver’s watching him closely now, and he trembles under the gaze.
“When I came here, all those months ago, it was… it was because I needed you. I was falling apart. My whole life got turned upside down. Everything was in pieces… And you were the one good, pure, untainted thing that I could latch on to. And that’s what I’ve been doing this whole time. I’ve been trying to be good for you. Trying so hard to be the kind of person you deserve in your life… But it’s all lies.”
Oliver swallows the lump in his throat as he watches the other man, not quite sure what to make of it. It’s not the first time Connor’s mentioned ‘not being good enough’, and he had always brushed it off as ridiculous, but clearly there’s something he doesn’t know.
“I’m desperate, and I’m needy. And you’re the only thing that’s been holding me together.” Connor’s eyes had slowly fallen as he speaks, and now they rest on some spot on the floor, unseeing and unfocused. “I need you by my side, but I don’t want to bring you into my mess. So I keep you at a distance, hidden in the dark, but it’s only because I want to keep you safe. Because I love you so much. And I need you… I need you to keep going. And I know I’m horrible and I’m selfish, and if I were a better person I’d cut you out of my life and let you find someone better for you.”
Oliver’s eyes widen in shock and confusion. He doesn’t understand why Connor’s saying these things. The thought of losing him, of them not being together… it’s not a thought that he’s considered in far too long. “Wh-what are you–”
“All I’ve ever wanted to do is protect you,” Connor says, cutting him off. “But you being safe means not being around someone like me–”
“Someone like you?”
“–and I can’t do that. I can’t let you go, because I need you. I need you so badly.” Connor looks up to meet his eyes, and Oliver can see the desperation in them.
“I–I need you too, Connor.” He finally says.
Connor shakes his head. “Not the same way I need you. And it’s horribly selfish of me, but I can’t help it. I’ve done bad things, I’m a bad person. And I know I don’t deserve you–”
“Stop saying that!”
“–I know I’m not good enough–”
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about–”
“I’ve done bad things…” Connor whispers. “Things that someone like you should run away from. And if I loved you, putting you in danger shouldn’t even be an option!”
“That’s such bullshit, Connor!”
“I’ve committed crimes–”
“Yeah, which you still refuse to tell me about!”
“–protected killers–”
“Well, given that you work for a defense attorney–”
“–covered up murders–”
They both freeze. Oliver in disbelief, and Connor in shock.
Oliver blinks. It takes a second for the words to fully register, and then he thinks he must have heard wrong. “What did you say?”
Connor shakes his head. It had just slipped out. He never meant for Oliver to find out, certainly not now, not at this very moment. But it’s happening and he’s panicking.
“Covering up murders, is that what you said?” Oliver whispers. “What the hell are you talking about, Connor? Connor, answer me!”
“Oh god oh god oh god,” Connor whispers under his breath as he takes a step back, his face scrunched up in agony.
“What murders?” Oliver asks again, and he steps forward, grabbing Connor’s arm to keep him from running away. “What have you covered up? What did you do?!”
But Connor’s not listening anymore. He shakes his head jerkily, and keeps muttering under his breath. “No no no no no…” Eventually Oliver loosens his grip on the other man’s arm, and Connor stumbles back, hitting the fridge behind him. And slowly he slides to the ground, pulling his legs up against his chest, and wrapping his arms tightly around himself. Like a child.
Oliver stares down at him in shock. Murders?
And then he thinks back to the night Connor showed up at his door, clearly having a panic attack or some sort of mental breakdown. He remembers the very next day, Connor asking him for help to find evidence that Sam Keating–who had gone missing, only to turn up dead a few weeks later–killed his former student. The number of times he had thought what a coincidence it was that the night Connor showed was the same night Sam went missing. And Connor reeked of smoke so strong, Oliver’s sheets needed to be changed, and then Sam’s body turns up burnt to a crisp… And suddenly all the pieces fit together. So well, so clearly, so perfectly that he’s almost kicking himself that he hadn’t put it together before.
“Sam? Sam Keating?” He whispers. “Annalise’s husband.”
From the floor, Connor gives a small, barely visible nod of his head.
All the air in Oliver’s lungs escapes in a single breath. And he too slowly slides to the floor, his back against the cabinets, across from the other man. He watches him in shock, at a complete loss for words.
“And Sinclair too.”
Oliver forces his eyes shut. He thought he could handle it. He thought theycould handle anything. How silly of him to think that a positive diagnosis would be the worst hurdle for them to overcome.
Emily Sinclair, who died supposedly by Catherine Hapstall’s hand, the same night Annalise was shot. He remembers that horrible night, Connor didn’t come home until the sun was nearly up, looking an absolute ragged mess. When he heard what had happened he nearly had a heart attack, and he held Connor close for hours. He remembers thinking how close Connor was to the situation–he could have been hurt too. But Connor reassured him that he was nowhere near the crime scene that night.
All lies apparently.
“You killed them?” He finally manages to choke out.
“No. No, not me. I just… helped cover it up.” Connor shakily runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the short strands, and finally he rests his head back against the fridge, his eyes closed and his breaths coming out in quick gasps.
It’s such a familiar sight to Oliver, who by now is used to the other man’s bouts of anxiety. But while he would usually go and provide comfort with his arms, warm embraces, gentle kisses, and soft whispers. Now, he’s frozen in his spot. He watches the other man, unable to look away, yet also unable to look at him the same.
“You burned a body,” he whispers.
Slowly, Connor nods. The motion looks like it hurts him, like maybe the memories are plaguing him in a way that Oliver can’t see.
“You did that.”
They sit there in silence. A million different scenarios run through Oliver’s head. A million different questions that he doesn’t have answers to. All the things he thought he knew about Connor, the love of his life… and the people he works with… they’ve all gone out the window now.
“I didn’t want to,” Connor finally says, his voice sounding choked up. “I wanted to leave–I tried to leave. It was… it wasn’t my fault, it wasn’tanyone’s fault, except maybe Sam. For me it was just… wrong place, wrong time. But then Wes made us cover it up. We had to remove the body. We took it into the woods, burned it… chopped it to pieces… I did that part… and then we got rid of it.” He takes a shaky breath, his eyes glazed and unfocused… remembering maybe. “Turns out it was Annalise’s plan the whole time. She says she did it to protect us. But she’s just covering her own ass, or Wes maybe, I don’t know…”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Oliver asks. “Why didn’t any of you go to the police?”
Connor shakes his head, and closes his eyes again. “I wanted to. But the others didn’t agree. And they could pin it all on me if I talked. Annalise always says, in the courtroom, it’s not about the truth, it’s about who tells the more convincing story. It would be their word against mine. No one would ever believe me.”
And suddenly it all becomes clear Connor’s hatred of that woman. Finally, it all makes sense how much he despises her.
“Did Sam kill her?” Oliver asks softly. “That girl? The… the sorority girl?”
Connor swallows and sits up slightly. “As far as we know, he did. It’s not like we can ask him anymore.”
Oliver nods. It doesn’t sound that bad, when the person killed was a murderer himself. “And Sinclair?” He asks hesitantly.
Connor groans and drops his head into his hands. Maybe these memories are still too close. “She made us do it. She made us do it. She made us cover it up! Because she was afraid the lies she spun about Sam would all come out. None of us wanted to do it. None of us. We wanted to leave, but she blackmailed us. She faked the crime scene, the whole thing… Made one of us shoot her. All so she could fool the courtroom into thinking Catherine Hapstall is a killer.”
Oliver blinks, trying to take in all this new information coming from Connor’s mouth in barely comprehensible rambles. Catherine Hapstall… who’s currently on trial for the murder of her parents, her aunt… and Emily Sinclair. “Is she?” He asks.
“We don’t know,” Connor whispers softly. “She could be innocent for all we know. Annalise is willing to frame her and send an innocent girl to prison just because she thinks she knows what’s best. None of us have a choice in the matter. We’re chained to her.”
Oliver takes a shaky breath. His squeaky clean image of Annalise, the kind woman who said such nice things to him when they met, the poor woman who’s husband was murdered… that image is shattered.
“Did you do it?” He finally whispers.
“Do what?”
“Did you shoot her?”
Connor lifts his head and looks at him, his eyes tired and red. But at last, he shakes his head. “I almost did. She… she tried… she said some things about you… and she threatened you.”
Oliver’s eyes widen in shock. “What’d she say?”
Connor shakes his head again. “It’s not important. It doesn’t matter. I almost did it. But Michaela stopped me.”
Oliver lets out a small breath of relief. At least his opinion of Michaela is one thing that hasn’t changed tonight.
They both sit in silence for a while. The short distance between them feels like it could be miles. He thinks back to the day Connor told him he might go to prison. He of course, laughed it off, thinking it was a joke. But now, he finds nothing funny about the situation. The number of bodies involved… what is the truth and what are simply lies, it all makes his head spin. And Connor… his wonderful, sweet Connor, the man who stayed by his side after he received the worst news of his life, who always tries to put a smile on his face when he’s having the worst of days, who goes out of his way to make sure Oliver knows how much he’s loved… Is there any truth in any of that? Oliver already knows the answer.
“This is why you want to transfer,” he finally says. “This is why you want to move three thousand miles across the country. To get away from them.”
“I’m so scared.” Connor stammers brokenly. “I’m terrified. I’m always terrified. Except when I’m with you. But I can’t live like this anymore. I want to leave, but even if I get accepted… I don’t know if they would let me go. Annalise has blackmailed me before, into staying quiet and keeping my mouth shut. I don’t know if she would let me go.”
Oliver tries to imagine it. The two of them, living on the west coast. Good weather, beautiful cities, and clear beaches. He hadn’t given it much thought after Connor told him about his application. He didn’t want to consider it until they knew for sure Connor had been accepted. At the time, he simply figured Connor would change his mind for sure. But now… now he knows the truth. And now he tries to imagine the weight that will be lifted from Connor’s shoulders if they ever manage to leave this dreadful city. Now it sounds like a dream.
“Oliver?”
Connor’s voice distracts him from his thoughts and he lifts his head to look up at him.
“Do you want me to leave?” Connor asks softly.
“No.” His answer is immediate. He didn’t even have to think about it. Like a reflex. The last thing he wants is for Connor to leave. Because even after this immense confession, even after having his world turned upside down, everything that he thought he knew, is all wrong… even after all of that, he know that he wants Connor in his life. He wants to be there for him, just as he knows Connor wants to be there for him, missed appointments be damned. He knows in his heart, they’re in this together. And he’ll stay by Connor’s side no matter what.
“Ollie?”
Oliver smiles slightly at the familiar nickname. “Yeah?”
“I’m not a drug addict,” Connor mumbles. “That was another lie.”
Oliver huffs out a breath. His smile grows wider, and he laughs, despite himself. He should have known. At least there’s always a silver lining. He thinks back to all those times when he had a glass of wine or a few beers around the other man, and Connor always turned to water instead. All those times they went out with Connor’s friends, and every time Connor adamantly turned away all alcohol, looking miserable and sober every second of it. All to keep up this facade that he’s a recovering drug addict. It’s hilarious the more he thinks about it.
Connor stares at him as he continues to laugh, his giggles growing louder until his sides are splitting and his whole body shakes. Finally, even Connor cracks a smile, and a few chuckles escape his lips. It only takes a few though, until he breaks down into a laughing, crying, shaking mess.
“Why are you laughing?” Connor croaks through his tears streaming down his face.
“Why are you crying?” Oliver gasps.
Connor sniffs as he tries to get a hold of himself. He shrugs his shoulders as he wipes his face with his hands. “I don’t know. Because… because you’re not freaking out. Because you’re taking this so much better than I thought you would. Because I thought you would leave me tonight. I thought I would lose you. And unless I’m reading this wrong, I don’t think that’s going to happen?”
Oliver grins softly. His sides still hurting from laughter. He slowly crawls on his hands and knees across the floor of their kitchen to pull Connor into his arms. Immediately, the other man sags against him. He buries his face in Oliver’s neck, and his hands grab fistfuls of his shirt, tugging him close.
“I’m not leaving you,” he murmurs into Connor’s hair. He can feel Connor trembling against him, so he holds him tight, and swears to himself that he won’t let go until they stop.
A while passes before either of them speak again.
“How long until you get your results?” Connor finally mumbles against his skin.
“The doctor said the lab work takes a few days at least.”
“I’m sure everything’s fine,” Connor says softly. “I’m still sorry I didn’t make it. But I’m sure everything’s fine.”
Oliver nods. In his mind, his own problems suddenly seem insignificant compared to the mess that Connor’s trapped in.
“We’ll get through this together,” Oliver says. “All of it. We will. I promise.”
“I can’t believe you’re taking this as well as you are,” Connor whispers. “I can’t even count the number of times I’ve broken down over this thing. I can’t make it without you,” he says, his voice cracking.
Oliver closes his eyes, and focuses on the feeling of the other man in his arms. His chin rests gently on Connor’s shoulder.
“You won’t have to.”