Chapter Text
Westport was a town of curated perfection, made up of those who tirelessly worked to uphold the image of prestige and those who didn’t even have to try. Oliver Otto unfortunately fell into the first category. He was regrettably middle class—a Florida-born outlier who had learned to fit in with the luxurious lifestyle of their beach-front Connecticut town, despite the relentless protests from his mom.
On the opposite side of the spectrum was Cooper, Oliver’s best friend and the only child of Westport’s wealthiest family. The Bradford’s were incredibly affluent, the type to have new pairs of Gucci loafers in their mail box each week like a credit card bill, and that generational wealth was the driving factor in their excessive influence in Westport.
Cooper, himself, was famous in their town, in the sense that all the housewives wanted to please him in search of an invite to an elusive Bradford dinner party, constantly chasing the economic validation attendance would provide. Oliver’s family, on the other hand, was Westport infamous in the sense that no one really liked the Otto’s. In fact, they barely tolerated them. But Cooper was like a knight in shining armor, the perfect medium in balancing out the image of Oliver’s dysfunctional family. In a town built on a foundation of judgement and bitterness, Oliver and Cooper balanced each other out. They just worked together. Perfectly.
After years of friendship, Cooper’s presence had become an accidental constant. He fit right in with the Otto’s routine, and the two boys had become inseparably synced. Oliver spent all his free time with Cooper—lunches, afternoons, weekends. They walked in the hallways together and had slept over at each other's houses more times than Oliver could count. The two of them shared the same interests, hobbies, classes, and an aspiration to attend Harvard.
By sophomore year, it seemed as though everything was going Oliver’s way. He had basically shed the reputation of his obnoxious mother, with credit due to Cooper, and he was doing everything he could to get into Harvard. He was taking the right classes, tutored, played tennis on weekends, did his SAT prep, reminisced on his ballet days, and he had the perfect girlfriend.
Her name was Brie, and she was perfect—pretty, popular, wealthy, and smart enough to keep up with him. And she really, really liked him. That mattered more than Oliver let on.
Almost immediately after Oliver had started dating Brie, Cooper had made it official with Charlotte. She was Brie’s best friend, popular and pretty. The two girls were as close as Oliver and Cooper, and just as much in sync.
It was convenient, how Cooper had picked a girl that kept him close to Oliver. But he liked that Cooper was always around, and over time, the four of them had become an inseparable double-date unit. The couples would get ice cream, bowl in Cooper’s basement, watch movies in the private Bradford theater, and go out to dinner together. They even reached the same relationship milestones together, first dates and first kisses, that sort of thing. It was like clockwork.
Oliver liked the routine they’d fallen into. He thrived in the simple regime he’d become accustomed to each week. He went to school, ignored his obnoxious parents, made fun of his sisters. He spent time with Brie and Cooper and they went on double dates with Charlotte. And he’d spend hours every day after school studying. That part of his life wasn’t something Oliver necessarily enjoyed, but it had become a part of his daily routine, just like everything else in his “Westport normal” life.
If Oliver was being honest, school was a much bigger part of his life than he’d like to admit. Sure, he spent a lot of his time thinking about Brie and inevitably Cooper, and he made time for friends and other leisurely activities. But every time he was alone, all Oliver could think about was Harvard.
He needed to succeed in life. He needed to leave behind the image of his stupid, annoying family and build something for himself. And for Oliver, getting into Harvard was the only foreseeable way out of his current situation.
It wasn’t that he hated his family, but they didn’t necessarily encourage his dreams. Instead, Oliver’s mom was always encouraging him to put down his SAT Prep book, to go to more parties, to do something reckless and fun. His dad didn’t really care what he did. But Oliver didn’t really care what he did either, as long as it wasn’t embarrassing, so their lack of understanding of each other pretty much evened itself out.
That’s why he needed to get out. He wanted to go to Harvard for undergrad, then Business school, and then create some type of hedge fund that would skyrocket to success with his connections in Cambridge. Cooper, of course, would be with him every step of the way.
And with the way things were going—the way Oliver would study for hours every single school night and pretend the looming fear of failure wasn’t secretly eating him alive—he was on track for a crimson stamped acceptance letter. He’d had to drop ballet due to his injury, sure, but Oliver had recently landed the coveted volunteer position at Teen Helpline, the perfect gig to trick admission officers into thinking he’s a good person. He hoped it would be enough, God forbid he only get into Cornell.
So really, everything was going perfect, at least on the outside. School was great, his future was looking bright, and things were going great with Brie. In concerns to his best friend and future business partner, Cooper was destined for a Harvard acceptance, although he didn’t really have to try, and he seemed to be equally as happy with Charlotte. That was why Oliver should have seen it coming.
It was a Tuesday night when it happened, a few weeks before winter break. Everything was normal, exactly like how it always was. Cooper was laying on Oliver’s bed, scrolling through his phone, as Oliver worked on his APUSH homework across the room. There was some historical documentary playing on Oliver’s laptop, but he kept the volume low to keep Greg from overhearing it and asking the two of them to participate in a historical reenactment with his University.
“I think I’m gonna say it.” Cooper had stopped scrolling and looked over at Oliver, a playful look behind his eyes.
Oliver glanced up from his half-completed packet. “Say what?”
“You know,” Cooper gave him a long look. “To Charlotte.”
“Say what to Charlotte?”
“You know..” Cooper repeated, drawing out the words. “It.”
There was a beat of silence while Oliver comprehended what Cooper was trying to say, and then he understood. “Oh,” Oliver said dryly, dread filling his stomach. “Like that it?”
“Yeah.” Cooper smiled, looking sheepish and happy and like a boy in love. Oliver could feel his stomach flip.
“Dude, no.” Oliver stood up, cringing at the harshness of his own words. But Cooper only frowned.
“Why not?”
“Because if you tell Charlotte, then I’ll have to say it to Brie.” It was obvious, how could Cooper not see that?
“So?”
“I’m not ready for that,” Oliver paced, panic seeping into his voice. “It’s only been like three months.”
Cooper just sighed, raising an eyebrow. “So I can’t tell Charlotte I love her because you’re not ready to tell Brie?”
“Yes,” He stopped to look at Cooper. “Exactly.”
Oliver watched as his best friend fell back against the pillows with a groan, bringing his hands to his face. His heart picked up pace at the sight. “You’re insane.”
“We agreed, we’d hit all the milestones together.”
“You mean like the first kiss?” Cooper’s voice was quieter now, softer, and he stared up at the ceiling.
“Same night. Same restaurant.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
Oliver flushed remembering that night. How he’d smiled afterwards, feeling dazed and slightly smug. How he’d high-fived Cooper in the car like they’d just beaten the boss in their video game. Cooper’s driver had taken the two of them home, and Oliver had spent the entire car ride talking about Brie. How perfect and gorgeous and warm she was. But Cooper hadn’t really mentioned Charlotte. Not once.
That's how it kinda always was. Cooper was into girls, sure, but he never really talked about them with Oliver. He’d had a few flings, building girls up to Oliver before they’d inevitably stop talking before things got serious. But Charlotte was different, special, at least he’d assumed. She was Brie’s best friend, and it was obvious to Oliver that Cooper actually really liked her. And because she was Brie’s best friend, it meant the two of them could spend time together, even when they were with their girlfriends.
After their conversation, Oliver thought the subject had dropped, that he’d spared himself a little more time to figure out this whole “love” thing. But the next week, Cooper brought it up again. “I’m gonna do it tomorrow,” he told him in between classes. “Charlotte’s been dropping hints. I think it’s time.”
Oliver paused, giving Cooper a stern look. “Don’t.”
Cooper just stared, brow furrowed. “Seriously?”
“It’s too soon. It’ll make everything weird. What if they say it back and we’re not sure?” Oliver didn’t know why he was being so defensive. He usually wasn’t when it came to Cooper. It felt weird, strange and foreign.
“I am sure.” Cooper threw his arms up, his custom-made, Italian leather tote bag slung across his body.
“Well, I’m not.”
They didn’t say anything after that. Oliver went to class and spent the entire time thinking about Cooper and Charlotte. And what it meant to say “I love you” and especially what it meant to hear Cooper say those words. He knew he wasn’t in love, at least he was pretty sure. And he didn’t know how Cooper could fall in love so fast when Charlotte was only Cooper’s second real girlfriend ever. It wasn’t that Cooper was a player, just popular in that way rich boys with a multi-million dollar trust fund kind of always are. And so Charlotte must’ve meant something for Cooper to be so serious about her. But still, Oliver didn’t understand why everything was moving so fast all of a sudden, and why he wanted so badly to stop it and just keep everything the same.
In the weeks that followed, Oliver became weirdly vigilant—always watching, always alert. Oliver wasn’t sure exactly why he did it, but he found himself ruining every moment where Cooper could possibly drop those three little words. He interrupted romantic moments. He changed dinner plans. And he nudged Cooper mid-conversation every time Charlotte leaned in just a little too close. Every time Cooper would ask him if he was ready, Oliver would find a way to end the conversation.
Oliver didn’t know why he felt this way, but he couldn’t help himself. It started with the smallest things. When Cooper would laugh a little too hard at Charlotte’s joke. Or When Cooper would carry Charlotte’s basketball bag for her. Or when Cooper would text her goodnight when he was sleeping over at Oliver’s house. Every time he saw them together, Oliver’s chest would curl into a hot, tight knot of discomfort.
It wasn’t that he wanted Cooper to be miserable. Clearly, Cooper was his best friend. Oliver just wanted things to stay the same. He wanted them to stay the same. And he knew that those three little words would change everything. And he just wasn’t ready for that.
But that didn’t explain why Oliver kept catching himself watching Cooper. Like really watching him. He noticed every little detail. The way Cooper’s face lit up when he walked about his trip to some Italian vineyard Oliver pretended to care about, until he realized that he actually did care. He noticed the way clothes fit Cooper. The way his button downs and sweaters would hug his slender frame. He noticed how Cooper would coordinate his watches with his outfits, and his shoes with his watch. Which is something a normal person who cared a normal amount wouldn’t notice.
It seemed that whenever Cooper was there, Oliver just couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. He just didn’t understand why he noticed these little details. They seemed so insignificant and also so intimate. None of it made sense, and he couldn’t stop his mind from running loops around Cooper even if he tried.
—⋆｡°✩°｡⋆—
Double dates were a weekly occurrence. Oliver loved them especially because he got to spend time with Brie and Cooper. There was something comfortable about the four of them together, something familiar about their routine. But sometimes, when Oliver would glance across the table and see Cooper smiling at Charlotte, something would quietly ache in his chest. It wasn’t anger or sadness, but something unsettled. Something he couldn’t name. Maybe that’s why he did it, why he was driving a wedge between his best friend and his girlfriend, subconsciously doing whatever he could to keep them from going farther in their relationship. It was for a reason he couldn’t comprehend.
That night was no different. The four of them were at some fancy restaurant Brie had picked out, the kind Oliver pretended didn’t make him nervous when the waiter would drop off the check. They were settled in a small, quaint booth, a couple on each side. Charlotte spent most of dinner twisting her straw wrapper around her finger and sighing dramatically. Cooper would say something, to Charlotte or the whole table, but then Oliver would cut him off, derailing the conversation with a dumb joke or a change of subject.
When Cooper excused himself to go to the restroom, Charlotte leaned across the table, locking eyes with Oliver. It scared him, a little, the way her narrow eyes pierced through his. Her blonde hair brushed against the edge of the table as she spoke.
“Okay, seriously. What is your deal lately?”
Oliver blinked slowly. “What are you talking about? I’m fine.”
“You keep interrupting him. You didn’t even laugh at anything he said.”
“I never laugh at anything he says,” Oliver joked, but it came out dry.
Charlotte just sighed and rolled her eyes. But when he looked over at his girlfriend, Brie was staring at him expectantly, as if prompting Oliver to explain himself. He crossed his arms, and then spoke without thinking, his feelings unfiltered. “I just don’t think we need to say the ‘L’ word this early. That’s all.”
Charlotte gasped and her eyes widened. Oliver’s heart sank as he realized he had said too much.
“Did he tell you he wanted to say it?”
Oliver froze. “What?”
“He did, didn’t he?” Charlotte leaned back into the booth and crossed her arms, mirroring Oliver. “And you told him not to. And now he’s second guessing everything. You ruined it.”
“I didn’t ruin anything,” Oliver spit back, his voice sharp.
Charlotte just stared at him, Brie remained silent to his left. There were a few beats of silence before something hard and cold settled behind Charlotte’s eyes. And then she smiled, as if she understood something Oliver didn’t. It was uncanny. “Maybe you’re not afraid of saying it to Brie. Maybe you’re just afraid of letting Cooper say it to me.”
Oliver sat back and let his hands drop to his lap. He didn’t say anything, just blinked slowly and waited for Cooper to return from the bathroom. And when his best friend retook the seat across from him, Oliver didn’t interrupt him for the rest of the night. He fidgeted with his hands underneath the table, laughed at his jokes and tried not to come off as weird.
He tried to ignore Charlotte’s words, to not let them have any impact on him. It was probably just an offhanded comment meant to throw him. But maybe Charlotte was right. Maybe some twisted part of Oliver’s brain didn’t want Cooper saying “I love you” to some girl he’d only been seeing for a few months, that would be the logical reason. But maybe it wasn’t just because he wanted what was best for Cooper, maybe it was because selfishly, secretly Oliver liked it better when Cooper was single—when all of his attention was on Oliver, and pretty much only Oliver.
But it didn’t make sense, because it wasn’t like they’d been spending less time together since they’d both gotten girlfriends. Their group of four pretty much spent all their free time together—parties, double dates, passing periods, lunches, weekends. And Oliver loved it because he could be with Cooper and Brie, the best of both worlds. So what was it? Why did Oliver care so much? Why did it even matter? He told himself that it was Brie, that he and Cooper did everything at the same time and he just wasn’t ready for things to go further with Brie. And it couldn’t be more than that.
Even so, Cooper was on his mind a lot more than before. Even after their video game ended or they’d both gone home. Even after Oliver had brushed his teeth and put on his pajamas and waited underneath his comforter for sleep to take him. Even after Cooper texted him goodnight. It was something Oliver counted on—seeing Cooper’s face when he closed his eyes. Hearing his laugh, remembering every piece of clothing he wore that day.
He didn’t think anything of it, because Oliver had always admired Cooper, even back when he was a socially inept seventh grader from a middle class family, with an aspiration of Harvard and success.
Cooper embodied that aspiration, the wealth and status he’d always craved, and so Oliver admired him as a person by proxy. It was normal. It was normal, but Oliver would never tell anyone about his thoughts, he kept them to himself. He’d never tell anyone how he’d cried into his pillow when he thought Cooper had ditched him, that he was tired with his poor friend always hanging around. And how when Cooper had called Oliver his best friend that evening—how it had been Cooper to reach out to him, to make things right—he’d almost never been happier. Cooper was his best friend, and he was Cooper’s. They were best friends, and he refused to let three little words come between them, because his friendship with Cooper was the greatest thing he had. Besides Brie, of course.
—⋆｡°✩°｡⋆—
It was Oliver who brought up the subject that weekend. It was a Saturday night, and Oliver was in Cooper’s basement playing some video game. It didn’t matter what, just that they were playing it together. Between levels, after they’d both lost far too many times to count, Oliver turned to look at Cooper. His hair was styled flawlessly, looking impossibly soft, like it always did, and his polo fit him perfectly, no doubt tailored to precision.
This was familiar, an established element of the routine he always craved. Video games were a passion he shared with Cooper, no matter how much they sucked at it and the number of games they inevitably lost. And during these moments—lulls of conversation in their favorite pastime—the dialogue would often cater to more serious, introspective matters. And there happened to be one issue that had been weighing on Oliver’s mind pretty heavily the past few weeks, one he tried to push aside and ignore.
“What are you trying to prove?” He mumbled quietly. It was random, and suddenly Oliver didn’t know why he’d said it, silently cursing himself for bringing up the topic he’d tried so hard to eradicate from their conversations.
Cooper blinked and set down his controller. “What?”
Oliver felt like giving up when Cooper looked at him like that, brown eyes piercing through his own. He didn’t want Cooper's eyes to leave him, and something in his subconscious decided to commit to his question. “By saying I love you to Charlotte. Why do you want to say it to her?”
Cooper sighed and tilted his head back. Oliver’s heart sped up in that way it had been doing recently as Cooper’s jaw clenched. “I don’t know anymore.”
He hadn't expected that, like at all. “But I thought you were so sure?”
Cooper frowned, his words almost inaudible. “I think I was trying to prove something to myself. That.. that what I’m feeling is real.”
Oliver watched as Cooper looked down at his lap, then met his eye again. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice soft.
“Sometimes, I think I want something,” Cooper started, the words wavering slightly. “But maybe it’s just because I think I’m supposed to.”
Oliver swallowed, the video game theme song becoming background noise to his beating heart. “Like saying I love you?”
Cooper looked down again. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Sometimes I think I’m trying to prove that I don’t feel this way—” Cooper paused, looking out at nothing in particular. “—About someone else.”
Oliver felt like his brain was short circuiting. “Wait, who?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Cooper looked at him and smiled.
Oliver didn’t understand why his heart had picked up pace at Cooper’s words, why his breath had hitched. Oliver wanted to ask him again. He wanted to know who Cooper could possibly be in love with besides Charlotte. But he didn’t, and Cooper didn’t offer the information again, either.
So they sat in silence for a while, working towards the next level together. Oliver’s head was fuzzy, filled with confusion and desire and messy things he couldn’t understand. But instead of questioning it, he let himself relish Cooper’s company, the air thick with the tension of words left unsaid.
—⋆｡°✩°｡⋆—
The next week, Oliver tried to act normal. He tried his best not to stare at Cooper or interrupt him when he was with Charlotte. Instead, Oliver focused his attention on Brie. He walked her to class, laughed at her jokes. He let Brie kiss him by her locker even though her lip gloss always got on his mouth. He took her out for ice cream and made out with her on her living room couch afterwards. He held her hand at lunch and let her lean into him at their table. But every time he turned, Oliver’s eyes always found Cooper across the table, and he found himself silently observing.
It was part of his routine now, an unwelcome hint of normalcy in his day-to-day. Just like his homework and Teen Helpline shifts. Just like his Thursday afternoon SAT prep with his tutor. What wasn’t a guarantee was how sometimes Cooper would come over after, and Oliver certainly hadn’t expected it this week. But Cooper had this thing where he’d just show up whenever, and Oliver would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t secretly love it.
Katie invited Cooper over for dinner with an eye roll, and afterwards he followed Oliver up the stairs to his room without even asking. They talked like they usually did, spending half the time scrolling on their phones together. Even so, Oliver would occasionally look up and find Cooper looking back at him from across the room, and then his face would heat up and he’d have to look back down.
At some point the two boys found themselves on the floor, lying next to each other. Oliver could feel the texture of the carpet through his shirt, and he could feel the movement as Cooper turned to look at him.
They stared at each other for a while, Oliver’s heart picking up pace before Cooper spoke, his voice solemn. “I think Charlotte’s mad at me.”
“Why?”
Cooper blinked, his brow furrowing. “She says I’m not in the relationship anymore. That I keep checking out, like I’m somewhere else.”
Oliver wondered if this was about the other girl Cooper had mentioned earlier. Even if it wasn’t, he certainly had noticed a bit of tension between the two of them at lunch. He hadn’t tried to, but it’s not like he could keep his eyes off Cooper, especially after he’d accidentally admitted his feelings to Charlotte at dinner. Maybe that was why things had been so tense. Maybe Charlotte was just waiting for Cooper to say those three words, the ones that would change everything, and she was getting frustrated because Oliver wouldn’t let him.
Because Oliver wouldn’t let him.
Because Oliver cared so much and he didn’t know why. Because he was selfish and arrogant and only cared about himself. Because ‘I love you’ threatened to shift his entire reality. “Are you?” He asked, voice quiet.
There was a brief moment of silence while Cooper thought. “I don’t know,” he eventually sighed.
“Do you want to break up with her?” It seemed out of the blue, the breakup, but it wasn’t. Cooper had a way of talking to girls, of playing them up to Oliver, just to drop them before things went too far.
“I don’t know that either,” Cooper sighed and sat up, running a hand through his hair.
Oliver propped himself up onto his elbows so he was directly facing his best friend. “You don’t… look at her the way you used to,” he said finally, the words barely audible.
Cooper’s eyes flickered down at his lap, then landed on Oliver. “Yeah, I guess I don’t.”
Oliver held Cooper’s gaze for just a moment too long before he responded. “Maybe.. Maybe I don’t look at Brie that way either. Maybe that’s why I can’t say I love you to her.”
“You do.”
Oliver froze. “How would you know?”
Cooper smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His voice carried a hint of sadness, and Oliver, knowing Cooper, very easily picked up on it. “Because I see the way you look at her. Like she’s the only person in the room.”
Oliver didn’t say anything. Cooper kept looking at him, his brown eyes intense with emotion, then spoke again. “Brie really likes you. Someday I want to have somebody who wants me like that.”
Oliver couldn’t stop himself. “What about that girl you were talking about before?”
Cooper’s face briefly twisted in confusion. Then he looked out at nothing, eyes unfocused. “It doesn’t matter.” His voice was strained, but Oliver could tell Cooper was trying to keep up with his usual perkiness, the unapologetic optimism he usually possessed.
“Why?”
“Because nothing ever happens with the people we can’t say things to.”
They didn’t talk about it after that. They didn’t talk about a lot of things, at least the things that mattered , anymore. Oliver had become almost self-conscious talking about Brie with Cooper, even more so as Cooper seemed to be struggling with Charlotte. He told himself that he felt bad for Cooper, and he didn’t want to bring the him down with his own happiness. But deep down, Oliver knew that wasn’t why. He knew, but he just couldn't figure out what the real reason even was.
Cooper went home shortly after that, headlights glaring through the dark night as he headed towards his estate. But as Oliver laid in bed hours later, he couldn’t stop thinking about what the Cooper had said. It wasn’t even what he had said, as much as it was what he hadn’t said. Oliver didn’t understand, but he also wasn’t sure if he was supposed to.
It was the way Cooper had looked at him—not melodramatic or smiley or oblivious, like usual. It was so serious, so dire. Everything was on the ledge between emotional, raw and stiff, cold. Like Cooper was hiding something big, and he kept teasing Oliver with it even though he'd made it clear Oliver wouldn’t know whatever big secret he was hiding. It all felt so wrong and confusing, and nothing made sense, but Oliver didn’t know just how bad things would get.
—⋆｡°✩°｡⋆—
Oliver was still thinking about those three words and Cooper and wondering why it meant so much to him. He thought about it during class, after school, when he was with Cooper and without him. He was thinking about it as he watched Cooper down a shot of some expensive tequila, midway into their last-minute, makeshift pregame.
They were headed to some address posted on a sophomore girl’s private story, someone Oliver barely knew and didn’t really care to. This was a normal Friday night. There was always a party in Westport. Parents were usually absent, away on a business trip or another luxury vacation, leaving their empty homes and credit cards to their children, who often used the opportunity to host. Like the average Westport teenager, Oliver partied nearly every weekend, and this one was no different.
Oliver walked inside with Brie, Cooper and Charlotte behind them. This was normal. This was routine. So then why was Oliver so bothered by the sight of Cooper’s hand grasped in Charlotte’s? It didn’t make sense why he’d feel this way, so.. insecure, on edge.
Maybe that was why he’d stepped back, so that he could walk next to Cooper once all four of them had surpassed the double-wide front door. He grabbed Cooper’s arm lightly, but just hard enough so that Cooper would let Charlotte’s hand drop.
“You good?” Oliver asked, eyes locked on Cooper. It was a filler question, syllables that truly meant nothing, and Oliver had only uttered the words so he could look into Cooper’s eyes a little longer.
Cooper flashed him a half-smile, and Oliver’s heart picked up pace. “Of course, Ese.” Then Oliver let his hand drop, reluctantly, before following Cooper the rest of the way inside.
They talked a lot at parties, just not always with each other. Oliver had been pulled into Brie’s circle of friends, and with Charlotte being her best friend, that meant Cooper had, as well. And Brie was pretty talkative. Oliver had become accustomed to nodding along with her various stories, one arm wrapped around her shoulders and the other clasping a sloppily made gin and tonic, and pretending he wasn’t sneaking glances at Cooper, who was quite literally only standing two yards away.
Brie leaned into his side as she giggled, her laugh rising in volume the more that she drank. Oliver smiled automatically at her touch, like it was muscle memory. But across the circle, Cooper was sipping something from a crystal glass, also half-listening to something Charlotte was saying and looking bored. Their eyes met. Cooper gave Oliver another half-smile and raised his glass, just a little, and Oliver raised his back.
Time seemed to move faster when Oliver was buzzed, and before he knew it they’d already been there an hour, maybe two. He didn’t drink a ton, at least according to Westport standards, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still feel it. If Oliver was being honest, he didn’t really drink for a reason, at least not an obvious one. Sure, he had fun and sometimes the alcohol took the edge off of the nagging feeling of failure that always followed him around like a stray puppy. But honestly, Oliver just drank to drink.
Because it felt good. Because he had nothing else to do. Because Cooper and Brie were there to catch him in case he got too sloppy or embarrassing. Because he was selfish, and could take advantage of the people he knew cared about him. Because he could blame the thoughts of Cooper that ran nonstop through his mind on the alcohol.
Two drinks later, and Oliver was alone on the back deck, warm from the alcohol and the body heat of his various classmates scattered around him, even in the brisk winter breeze. Brie was somewhere with her friends, and he’d needed air. He glanced down at the Rolex Cooper had gifted him for his birthday last year, the one he had to work hard to hide from his mom. It was only two, but he was tired. It had been a long week full of confusing conversations, and he didn’t even want to think about anything anymore. Oliver leaned against the railing, letting his head tip back.
“Thought I’d find you here.” Oliver would recognize that voice anywhere. Cooper. He opened his eyes and blinked until they rested on the his best friend. He shifted to the right to make room for him. Cooper moved so that he was by Oliver’s side, standing just a little too close. He had a lazy smile plastered across his face, eyes glassy from the alcohol.
“I needed air.”
“Yeah,” Cooper responded, not even really looking at him. “It’s a lot.”
Oliver didn’t really know what they were talking about. The music? The lights? Their girlfriends? But he didn’t ask.
They stood together for a while, in silence. Oliver could feel the vibrations of the music beneath his feet, and began drumming his fingers against his glass to the beat. Then he turned to Cooper with a smirk. “You drunk?”
“Buzzed,” Cooper smiled. “You?”
“A little, not much.”
A beat of silence passed, and then Cooper sighed. “Charlotte’s still mad at me.”
Oliver exhaled. “Why?”
“She says I’m distracted,” Cooper took another sip of his drink. “She’s not wrong.”
Oliver looked at him then. He really looked. “Distracted by what?”
But Cooper didn’t answer him, just stared out into the backyard, mouth tight and eyes unreadable. Oliver couldn’t help but notice how distressed his best friend looked. It was uncanny. This was Cooper Bradford, who was always weirdly optimistic, even if it was awkward. But something was going on with Cooper, and he wasn’t really that way anymore. He’d become quieter, more careful, less hopeful. And Oliver didn’t know exactly what that meant.
“I don’t know,” Cooper finally answered. “Things I can’t say.”
Oliver’s chest squeezed, his body’s autonomic response to how badly he wanted to know who Cooper was talking about, if only to feel closer to him in this moment. It was like he was grasping onto something that wasn’t truly there, like maybe it never would be. Cooper was his best friend, and honestly it hurt when Cooper was so vague, so intentionally distant. But it kept Oliver tethered to him like a ship at bay. He played it off with a dry laugh. “You’re weird when you’re drunk.”
Cooper smiled, but didn’t meet his eye. “You like it.”
Oliver opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again and asked, “You think that’s funny?”
“No,” Cooper said quietly into his drink. “I think it’s true.”
They didn’t say anything after that. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t quite comfortable either. And if Oliver was being honest, he really wasn’t in the right head space to talk to Cooper right now, not like this. Not when they were both drunk and warm and dizzy and serious, but not serious enough. Not when they were standing too close together, but somehow Oliver had never felt farther away.
They inevitably ended up back inside. Brie found him in the hallway, and he leaned down so that he could hear her over the music. She whispered something that he pretended to comprehend, but it was hard because his eyes were locked on his best friend.
Cooper and Charlotte were standing a few feet away, their orientation practically mirroring Oliver and Brie. Charlotte’s hand was on his arm, and she giggled as it wrapped around her waist. But Cooper was off. Stiff, tense even under the influence, and the distance between them was clear as day.
Oliver felt kind of guilty about it. Like maybe it was his fault Cooper was pulling back from Charlotte, as if it wasn’t something Cooper did with girls far too often. He’d thought Charlotte was different, a commitment Cooper was willing to make. But obviously something wasn’t working out. Something needed to change. And those three little words could fix everything.
Cooper would be happy again. Charlotte would finally stop glaring at Oliver at lunch. Things wouldn’t be so awkward between the two of them anymore. Brie, of course, would be expecting him to say it to her. But strangely, that wasn’t even Oliver’s biggest concern anymore.
It was more so how the prospect of it made him feel. He knew it would fix everything. But the thought of Cooper uttering the syllables made him sick. Like physically sick to his stomach. Everything about it felt wrong and awful and volatile, and the alcohol only worsened the churning in Oliver’s stomach at the thought.
It was selfish of him, the way Oliver let his emotions dictate the lives of everyone around him. He knew that, too. But it was just one of the numerous ways Westport standards had fucked him up. His mom and dad felt strongly about that, always criticizing him as if they weren’t the ones who uprooted him from Florida and made him an economic outcast.
So it was their fault, really, that he’d become this way. If Oliver hadn’t had to work harder than everyone else, maybe he’d be different. If he hadn’t spent years striving to be the best, years trying to distance himself from his own blood, years plotting business ideas in an attempt to even come close to the same level as his peers, entitled rich kids who had everything handed to them. It didn’t matter who he played in the process, whether it be scamming kids in Newark for a quick buck or befriending Spencer for his inheritance. Anything, as long as Oliver was the one who got ahead, who had the last laugh, who got to be the one who fucked people over and not the fuck-up. How could he not be self-centered after all this time?
But at least Westport had given him Cooper. His best friend, the closest friend he’d ever had, who was sitting next to him in the backseat of the Bentley. They’d left early, per usual. It was a Cooper thing—timeliness, proper party etiquette. Cooper always liked to leave well before the party started to trickle out. Always.
Brie and Charlotte had left together, just not with them. Even though both Oliver and Cooper usually left separately with their girlfriends or all together as a group, but Oliver could guess the reason why it was different tonight.
He also guessed that was the reason Cooper hadn’t talked much on the ride home. His head was resting against the window, eyes closed and breathing softly. Oliver thought maybe Cooper’s driver would just drop him off in silence, letting Cooper rest in the backseat.
That is, until Cooper opened his eyes, his voice strained and exhausted. “She’s tired of it. Of me.” Oliver didn’t know what to say. Cooper glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, noticed, and kept talking. “I don’t think I’m into it anymore… Not like I wanted to be.”
“Oh.” It was all Oliver could muster.
Cooper was quiet for a moment, before his eyelids fluttered shut. “I don’t think I’m good at relationships.”
“You are,” Oliver responded automatically. “You’re… thoughtful, loyal, hot.” He smiled, attempting to lighten the air. It was weird seeing Cooper this way, so self-depreciating. Oliver had never seen him this meticulously sad, this self-conscious. He’d turned from always happy to a brooding mess in just a few weeks.
But Cooper didn’t laugh at Oliver’s words. He turned and looked at him, pupils dilated. The emotion on his face was raw, quiet and serious. “Maybe I’m not good at being with someone when I want someone else.”
Oliver froze. There were those words again, the ones he couldn’t figure out who Cooper was talking about or why who it was mattered so much to him. “Who?” he whispered, hoping for an answer, silently begging Cooper to say something.
But he didn’t. “It doesn’t matter who.”
Oliver’s throat tightened. “You always say that,” he whispered. He realized how close he’d gotten to Cooper, now that both of them were sitting up and facing each other.
Cooper sighed, eyes still locked on Oliver. “Because it’s always true.”
They were closer now, too close. Even resting against the back of the seat, Oliver could smell the sweetness of Cooper’s drink on his breath. He could see the flush in his cheeks. He could feel the question hovering between them. But he didn’t ask it and Cooper didn’t answer it. Instead, Cooper leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. And Oliver did the same.