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heartbreakgrill · 1 month

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Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Pt. 6, "I don't wanna share."

“Ok, I need to bring you back down to Earth for a sec, Daisy.”

An audible groan passed through my lips as I rolled my eyes, “Here we go.”

“No, listen,” Sasha poked at my bicep, which was propped up so I could hide behind my arms just a little bit, “listen, listen. You obviously need to hear this-”

“You were the one telling me that I needed to let loose! This is me- letting loose! Going with the flow. Being chill!” I sounded exasperated, which didn’t help my defensive case. I didn’t know how many times I could reiterate the same point until the words didn’t carry any meaning.

“Yeah, no, I did say that!” She gestured with her pretty pink nails, “but letting loose and being in a situationship are not the same things. In fact, I would argue that they are complete opposites.”

“And I would argue,” I looked to her, pointedly, “that they are not. That this isn’t even a situationship in the first place.”

Sasha snorted, eyes crinkling shut for a moment. Then, she remembered herself and got a little more serious. “Ok, listen,” she shook her shoulders, “do you have feelings for him?”

There was no question here. I didn’t have to think about it. I knew I had feelings for him from the moment he had kissed me in that hallway, the air conditioning humming like a taunting melody beneath our breathless sighs. Despite how quickly the confirmation fell through my lips, little flashes of memories reeled at the front of my mind.

Oliver and I in his hotel room, his gentle hands wetting a towel and carefully, like I was glass, swiping my skin clean.

Oliver and I in the shower, supple kisses on my collarbones and the back of my neck as he lathered soap through my hair.

Oliver and I on the roof, the bright lights of Paris and the faint sounds of a violin playing on the streets below us guiding our hips through a dance that felt as natural as the air that blew through my hair.

Oliver whispering my name into my ear, Oliver tucking me into his bed, Oliver throwing out his cigarettes and being one week clean. Oliver begging me to come to a show, promising to show me some of his new music if I’d just come.

Oliver telling me that if I came to the show this Friday, he’d let me sign my name across his ribcage, and paint over it with midnight black, sealing clean a secret that burned for our eyes only, barely visible beneath what looked to be the night sky on his skin.

“And does he have feelings for you?” Sasha hummed in response.

“I…don’t know. I think so…”

Oliver’s words in my memory-

“You’re so fucking pretty…pretty like a flower. I can smell the pollen in your skin. It makes my nose tingle,” His nose in my neck.

“Everytime you smile at me, I feel it, Daisy. The moment you walked out of that airport…I- just. I’m stuck in this vicious cycle, and you’ve thrown me for a loop,” his fingers on my cheeks.

“Do you dress up for Halloween? Go to any University parties? I swear, all you need is a white dress and some angel wings, and you’re set. You better send me photos if you fulfill my idea. I’d build a fucking shrine for it, for you…bring down heaven, so they can reclaim you,” his hands in my hair, tracing a halo between my temples…

“Probably.”

Sasha pursed her lips, raised her brows, as she watched me question myself, “Girl. From what you’ve told me? Hmph. Anyways…he doesn’t want to be with you-”

“Can’t,” I looked away, almost shamefully. Then, my voice was quiet, “can’t be with me.”

“Okay,” she scoffed, more or less under her breath, to help me save face. But I heard it. I rubbed my hands together slowly, as if prodding at my skin would somehow help my confidence in the situation.

Sasha took a slow sip of her coffee, only pushing me further to the edge of my seat in anticipation as she analyzed my situation more and more. Then, finally, the big question, the gut-punch, the lemon in my papercut, “Why?”

The same question I’d been asking myself for…nearly two months now? Yeah. Two months. 8 weeks. Three cities (four?) The lines were beyond blurred. I was beyond blurred, eyes bleary, head cloudy. I thought that seeing Sasha would help me clear my mind a little bit. But, she had the same thoughts I did- though hers were a little more on the offense than mine. A little more verbal than I allowed my own to be. She seemed to be clear on the fact that what Oliver was asking of me was wrong. And I didn’t agree.

It’s not like he was manipulating me or taking advantage of me. He asked for my consent just about every time he even breathed in my direction, ensuring I was okay more times than was probably necessary. Besides, I was a mature, independent, smart adult- I wouldn’t allow myself to be put in a situation that would jeopardize my well-being and mental health.

(So why did it still feel so wrong?)

I was incredibly antsy to see Sasha all summer. We’d been internet friends for nearly 10 years and had only hung out once, when she visited the states 5 years ago. Now, here I was- in her home country for a whole entire month. And, luckily, she had a little bit of free time on the weekends and evenings to entertain me. In her own words, her goal over the next month was to get me on her side, to change my point of view. I just wanted to eat some croissants and buy expensive cheese. We had very different ideas of fun.

“Why, Daisy.” A statement because she knew the answer, too, and was trying to force me to come to terms with it by vocalizing it.

“Girl, I don’t know,” I settled for humor.

Sasha blew a bubble of air from between her lips, the ends of her styled side bangs ruffling about. She crossed her eyes as she peeled a strand from her bottom pout, all stuck in her lip gloss. Meanwhile, she replied, “Get real. You have a degree in analyzing human behavior. You read people like a book after just one glance in their direction. Why? Just tell me. You know it. Why-”

“Because he has an attachment disorder. Debilitating anxiety and depression. Terrible coping mechanisms. The tendency to victimize himself intentionally for attention. And I’m feeding into it. I’m giving him what he wants. I’m catering to his insecurities by fucking babying him and treating him like glass.”

In another universe, I said all that. I confronted the issue at hand and told Oliver no when he later texted me to come over.

But, in this timeline-

I shrugged. Sasha got frustrated with the situation and moved on, to shoes or shopping or something else.

I went back to the hotel. Ate dinner with everyone.

Oliver texted me. At his beck and call, I went up to his room. A dog to a bone. A dog to a dead bird, in my teeth.

And I ignored what I knew was true for about a week. It was easy, up until that point. The way he touched- the way he silently loved me- it was all enough to hold nothing against him.

Yet, enough to despise him for everything he was putting me through.

“Daisy…”

His words were a whisper on the back of my neck, awakening me with a sharp inhale of breath between my lips.

I gained my bearings as my eyes flew open. My tired vision slowly adjusted to the surroundings of Oliver’s hotel room, a familiar sight, sure, but never at this time of day.

I was sent into a frenzy from the realization that it was the morning time and I was still in his room, sleeping at his side, with his arm tucked securely around my waist.

“Wha-” I sat up slightly, leaning the back of my shoulder blades against the headboard. Oliver’s arms slid over my lap, his skin cold against the edge of my stomach. “What time is it?” I looked down to him, expecting a panic to be apparent on his face.

He just smiled up at me, “Only 10.”

My eyes widened. The beat of my heart picked up its pace as I instantly thought of my brother, my empty bed in our room. He was more than awake at this time of day and probably panicked, looking for me. Soon enough, he’d come knocking on Oliver’s door and we’d be found out.

I knew this would happen. We’d been pushing our luck far too much these past few weeks, as the tour traveled from Germany to Paris. It was like being in the city of love had heightened our cravings. Oliver’s, especially, were feral. He treated me, sometimes, like a prey that needed hunting. That all-consuming affection was so filling, so much so that I forgot how unhealthy it could end up being. No matter- we were having fun. But, my brother and his friends were still somewhat of a threat. Who knows how they’d react? Who knows what it could mean for Oliver and I?

Oliver noticed my panic and sat up so he could cradle my chin in his hands, “Hey, hey, hey- love, we’re okay. Sam stopped by like an hour ago to tell me he and Ronnie were going to Versailles for the day. Said to look out for you cause you were probably traipsing around the city with Sasha.”

I took a deep, relieved breath, resulting in my shoulders to slouch just a bit. I leaned my face into Oliver’s palms more, feeling his breath fan out across my face. I liked him so much, I didn’t even care about morning breath.

“Oh, thank God,” I squeezed my eyes shut.

Oliver let out a deep chuckle before pecking my lips, “You know what that means?”

I met his gaze, eyeing his sly smile, “What does that mean?”

“We have the entire day to spend in the city. Together. Just you and I. No sneaking around in the dark or hanging out in this dingy hotel room.”

“Wait, really?” I sat up with excitement. Oliver’s hands slid off my face and he fumbled around with my hands.

He squeezed them gently, grinning as he watched the smile grow on my lips. A slow nod, “Really! We can be classic, cringey tourists! Don’t have to worry about running into your brother. Nor Cy, Adam, and Max. They’re all running some stuff at the venue. So- hurry! Get ready! We have so much time to spend and we’re wasting it in bed!”

“Oh, my God, I’m so fucking excited!” I shoved the covers off my body, standing to haphazardly tug on my clothes.

Oliver moved slowly, as he always did, just watching my buzzing body with a sweet grin. “Yeah?”

“Yes! I love spending time with you no matter where, but now we can finally be in the light of day together, like normal people! Like a nor-” I stumbled over my string of thoughts, coughing up something other than what I wanted to say, “like normal, human people!”

Like a normal couple.

That’s what I wanted to say. A Freudian slip- how silly of me!

We weren’t a couple. And what we had was anything but normal.

Oliver pretended like I didn’t choke over the letter c. Instead, he presented his own ideas for our day, “I think we should at least start with Cafe de Flore.”

My brows furrowed. My heart swelled. My stomach fluttered. I knew why it would be a good idea to start there. I knew I’d told him about it- just in passing- weeks ago, maybe even months. But, how did he know that?

“Why’s that?” I quizzed.

Oliver looked at me with an expression I can only describe as, ‘duh.’ “Because it’s gorgeous and historical and you’ve been wanting to go there all summer? We’ll grab breakfast.”

I distracted myself with verbalized, rambled lists and lists of everything we could do today. I couldn’t give into the emotions swirling all throughout my frenzied body. It would only spiral into overthought anxiety and confessions of a stupid fucking word I did not want to feel.

“Of course, we’re gonna have to walk all over the city to do all of this. I don’t wanna tire you out too much. I’ll pick, like, a section of the city and we’ll stick to it. Is that a good idea? Would that be oka-” I looked to him for approval, but he was scooping me into his arms, palms low on my waist, forehead dipping towards mine.

“I would walk a million miles for you, Daisy Hallett.”

I didn’t have time to think too much about his affectionate words before he was kissing me.

And, fuck, did he kiss me.

Oliver let me hold his hand.

Well, he didn’t let me hold his hand. It wasn’t some kind of permission-based ordeal.

He offered me his hand.

When he stopped by the hotel room to pick me up, I opened the door, he complimented me, leaned in for a sweet kiss, then offered up his hand.

I latched on, keeping distance between our shoulders. As we walked, though, he inched his body closer, ensuring we brushed against each other, especially as we stepped out into the crowded streets. When the sidewalks were too busy, he’d let go, only to protectively guide me through the crowds with a hand on the small of my back. The moment his hand could safely be back in mine, he’d swipe it up my spine, over my shoulder blade, down my bicep, forearm, to my fingers.

It was all so…

I was feeling lucid, for lack of a better word to articulate my feelings. I was lucid. This was a dream. Paris cast some sort of love sick spell on every single person who walked through its sparkling streets.

But, I’d latch onto any ounce of love I could get from him.

We hit the cafe first, as he promised we should. He paid, though I literally tried to shove him away from the card machine. There weren’t any tables available, of course, but there was a gorgeous park nearby, so we walked over, sat by the river Seine, and ate our breakfast.

I hadn’t seen him in such visible, bright lighting in so long. I’d nearly forgotten the way his eyes turned velvety in the sunlight. The way they glinted, the way that gold shone through the undertones. He even kept his hood down, so I was able to fully appreciate the way his brown hair had a faint reddish tint to it, the pale sparkle to his sharp jaw.

I caught myself staring at him far too often as he talked about the most casual of things. How he took Spanish in grade school, how his mom made fun of him when they had a banquet for their class because he couldn’t pronounce some of the words correctly. How he joined the school band when he was 10 and knew that all those piano lessons his grandma had forced him into would surely pay off.

Our conversations didn’t cease then, and they only became more intimate as the day rushed past. We visited museums, bookstores that were tucked away in intimate side streets. We nearly got robbed when walking past the Eiffel Tower, and I was nearly tricked into giving a stranger $500 when Oliver excused himself to find a restroom in that same area. But, his height alone cast this protective shade over me. All he ever had to do was step in front of me, shadow over whoever approached us with a pointed gaze. They’d scurry off and he’d grin down at me.

I didn’t pay for a single thing. The postcards and keychains I picked out- Oliver would shuffle me aside at the register, overpowering my average stature with his dominant one. The food we ate- he wouldn’t even let me reach for my wallet by filling my hands with his things, too. Even a dress that I picked out when we visited one of the boutiques. It was expensive, and I wasn’t even going to waste a penny on it- but he insisted. Insisted…more, like, when we were a block away, he told me to stay where I was, turned back, bought it, and swept my hand up in his in passing without another word.

Things only got better as the day passed.

He kissed me on every street, sweet, gentle, long kisses that I felt in my toes. He’d stand behind me in lines, arms wrapped around my torso, fingers splayed across my stomach. When we’d sit somewhere, he’d be practically on top of me, hand on my thigh, pulling my leg up onto his. If he had it his way, I’d probably be in his lap.

And the things he was saying to me- beyond the intimate details of his life that he was sharing…Oliver would whisper in my ear how beautiful I was, how much he loved the time we were spending together. After our light lunch, he started calling me, “My love.”

It happened so casually that I thought I’d misheard him.

He held the door of the restaurant open for me and I thanked him as I passed. I reached my hand out for his and he easily took it in his.

“Anything for my love.”

We were back in the crowds, back in the thick of Paris, with the tourists and the shouting and the traffic and noise. His words were a muffle of murmured lips to my eyes.

But I knew I’d seen the way that the ‘v’ punctured his bottom lip, white teeth sinking into pink skin.

“What did you say?” I pushed up onto my tiptoes to hear him better, dragging my eyes up his face.

Oliver had been looking around, trying to decide which direction we’d head in next. When I spoke, he started to turn his attention back to me, brows unfurrowing. “Um…huh? What?”

“What did you say?” I wiggled my fingers slightly, attempting to be playful, though I was melting on the inside.

Oliver noticed the grin rising to my lips and leaned into my affections. He wrapped his arms around my side, squeezing me tight to his chest, and rocking us about. His cheek squished against my head, muffling his words, though I heard him more clearly this time. “I said anything for my love! For my sweet, beautiful, flowering Daisy!”

My.

His.

I was his.

I was his love. He had laid ownership to me. He had spoken the words I’d begged so long to hear. He’d claimed me. Laid it all out on the table and waited for me to pick it up.

I was clutching on to it.

The day ended too quickly. A candlelit dinner, a singular rose prickling my fingers with it’s thorns. We watched the lights on the Eiffel Tower sparkle for far too long, entranced with each other, with the sights.

I counted down each and every second, checking the lock screen on my phone each chance I had. When the minutes added up, rolling over into each new hour, my heart would drop further into my stomach. I knew that once the sun set, once we snuck back into the hotel, this would all be over. All of the longing stares would get locked away behind his hotel room. All of his pet names and secrets he shared would end.

We’d go back to the start.

I tried to memorize every inch of every moment, each touch, gaze, kiss, even the chaste ones, when his lips grew chapped in the afternoon and I had to shove a tube of lipstick into his hands. His scent lingered on the tips of my fingers, the smell of his shampoo, and I kept my hands balled towards the end, refusing to touch almost anything. I had to keep his skin on my skin, even if all that was left there were ghosts of memories and dead cells.

It was all made worse when, in those final moments outside of the Eiffel Tower, some street photographer managed to scam us into a mini-photoshoot. Oliver began to argue with the guy, not wanting to spend nearly one hundred US dollars. Then, the photographer shoved his camera just beneath Oliver’s nose and I watched his brown, doe-y eyes light up.

He paid for exactly three photos. The man printed them quickly from his streetside contraption. Oliver wrapped an arm around me, murmured some sort of, “Let’s go.” All the while, he clutched those pictures delicately, yet to show me,

Soon, though, we were just a few feet from the front of the hotel. He slowed us, there on the sidewalk. A cool breeze shivered across my skin. He held my hand a little tighter, head dipped low as he lifted those photos from his side. I looked up at him, brows a little furrowed. I watched the corners of his lips quirk up, like he was keeping some sweet little intimate secret with just himself and the wind.

Then, Oliver held out the pictures. They were spread out, like cards, like he wanted me to pick one and see if he guessed the number correctly. I’d lie and say yes. Anything for him.

I took them. My breath caught in my throat. It was a series of moments, like a film reel, all captured within seconds, now still in this paper frame. It pictured Oliver and I from behind, watching the Eiffel Tower, his arm wrapped around my waist, my head leant on his shoulder. The next second, we turned our heads towards each other, smiling cheekily. If I squinted, I could see the looks in our eyes- smitten. Delusional. Caught-up. The shine of the tower shown across our faces like spotlights, exposing us for what we were:

In love.

The final photo was us kissing, all wrapped up like a pair of strings, tangled and entwined. My fingers became sweaty and I had to clutch the photos a little tighter. I felt sick- yet elated. Like I was being spun around a million times.

“I want that one,” Oliver spoke so quietly that I nearly didn’t hear him. Then, I felt his hand close overtop of mine, fingers gliding down the photo to gently pull it from my clutches.

I held onto the other two like an oath, trying hard not to gape up at him. He grinned, first at the photo, then to me. I needed to kiss him then and there, looking at him looking at our love. I needed to consume him, take him home with him, keep him in a shirt pocket, next to my heart, for the rest of time, long after my bones have rotted and I’m a pile of dust in a hole somewhere.

He wanted it, too- I knew it.

We leaned towards each other, lips pulled together like magnets, when our names were called from somewhere down the street.

Oliver and I snapped apart, putting nearly a small field between the tips of our toes. I hastily shoved the pictures into the bottom of my purse. Oliver tucked his photo away somewhere I didn’t see and probably wouldn’t ever.

Ronnie led the group, bounding towards us with the fervor of only someone who was somewhat tipsy. Sam tried to keep up behind her with this grin on his face that I recognized all too well. He tried to slow her down, calm her, as she nearly skipped towards Oliver and I, pushing through crowds, traffic.

Adam, Cy, and Max were at the tail of the group, following slowly, talking amongst themselves. And, Ronnie reached us a moment later.

She looped her arm through mine, leading me away from Oliver, towards the hotel, with some conversation about the bar they’d just visited. I was listening to her, but I managed to overhear Sam greet Oliver, a pat to his shoulder, a brotherly grin overwhelming Sam’s formerly lovesick one.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on her, Ollie.”

The nickname was so boyish it made my stomach flip. Sometimes I forgot he was a human being, too caught up in the emotionality of everything to ground myself in his bones and brain.

“Course, dude. She was off with Sasha most of the day. Just caught each other on my way back from the venue,” he lied so naturally. Created a false narrative within a singular breath. I tucked it into my back pocket in case someone asked about it.

I guess we needed to have our story straight, just in case someone dared to think we were anything more than acquaintances.

“What did you get up to yesterday?” Sasha pushed the rest of the eggs on her plate around, her stomach more than likely being full considering we just feasted on the hotel breakfast while gossiping for an hour straight. Food become like air when conversing with friends, especially girlfriends.

The question made my movements slow, for just a moment, as I reached for my glass of tea. My eyes flicked to Sasha’s, who wore an engaged smile. “Uh…just kinda walked around. Perused. Ya know- touristy shit.”

“Not too much touristy shit, I hope. That’s what today’s for!” Sasha did a little dance in her seat. She had an entire itinerary printed out in her front pocket. She was going to be taking me to all of the best spots in Paris- all of the spots I’d already been to with Oliver.

She continued, another pre-planned outing for us on her tongue, “Oh, and, tonight we’re gonna go see Sleep Token. Adam invited us. Said you still haven’t even been to a single show? Which is unbelievable considering you fucking love concerts!”

Fuck.

This was the last thing I needed.

I already sported a lovesick expression each time Oliver so much as breathed the same air as me. Pair that with him shirtless, on stage with his famous band, singing, and wearing a mask?

Jesus Christ. Why did I put myself in these situations?

I wanted to say, “Yeah, there’s a reason I haven’t gone.”

Alas, I was on a stubborn mission to try to convince Sasha that a.) I didn’t really care for Oliver that much, and b.) I was cool as a cucumber.

So, I hid my feeling of being set-back and fibbed, “Shit, yeah. I keep forgetting those guys are actually in a band. I’ve been meaning to get to a show. Let’s do it!”

And so we went.

I wondered if I should tell Oliver that I was coming to the show. I didn’t wanna throw him off or anything, though I knew he took on a whole new persona when he wore that mask. I was mostly worried he’d be angry with me, if he saw my face in the crowd and hadn’t gotten any time to warn his senses. It wasn’t that I expected him to throw up or anything. I just knew that unexpected things always threw me for a loop.

Then again, I didn’t really owe him any sort of warning. I’d been invited to every single concert, every single day they were scheduled. Hell, my brother and Max had been basically begging me to come to a show this entire tour. So, Oliver already had a warning. I could show up wherever, whenever I’d like.

I don’t know why I felt like such a bad ass, no informing him of my presence later that evening. But I think it was combined with the sort of learned independence that I was gaining from Sasha. Throughout this week, this day especially, she’d been slipping in little comments about me and Oliver’s situation, with enough force that I was starting to believe them.

If we really were no strings attached, then how come I was holding so tightly to these cords?

Tonight, I was who I really was, who I deserved to allow myself to be: a regular, fun girl, free as the wind, attending concerts when I wanted to, sleeping with who I craved, wearing what I truly felt like.

That had been the whole point of this trip. I’d let myself get confused by Oliver’s affections. Let myself get distracted, pulled off track. There had been times, especially at the beginning of the summer, when I’d been true to myself; when I went out, and wore short skirts, when I sat on the roof and told Oliver, truthfully, that I wanted to live.

And, then, I’d let him consume every inch of me and become the center of my focus when he should’ve just been something fun to do.

Sasha was really influencing me, and I was grateful.

Now it was just a test of how long I could stick to my guns.

“God, I hate platforms,” Sasha groaned, leaning her elbows atop the barricade that separated us from the stage.

I was lodged between her back, the person next to me’s shoulder, and someone’s chest. Contrary to her own statement, I was actually grateful for the black platforms lifting my height up a little bit. Without these- granted- uncomfortable shoes, I would not be able to see past Sasha’s wild curls and the tall head of the man standing beside us.

I kept a hand on Sasha’s elbow as more and more attendees filed in, worried I’d get swept up in the tide that was the crowd of so-called worshippers and wash up somewhere off-shore.

I replied, the volume of my voice a little higher than normal, “My feet are burning, but at least I can see!”

She threw a short laugh over her shoulder, “Fair!”

It wasn’t until the opening act was about to come in that the crowd sort of settled- if settling was what you could call this. I’d been to all kinds of concerts, thanks to my music-devoted family and my connections-based older brother. But, none were ever as intense than the metal concerts I attended. And, this was no different than those.

I wasn’t annoyed, just stressed, since people kept pushing into me, bumping me like the infamous carnival ride cars against others. The man beside Sasha, sort of in front of me, was getting an ear full of apologies each time I hit his bicep with my shoulder. He would- half-annoyedly- toss a look over his back, but offered up a somewhat understandable smile.

After the third or fourth time, he turned around all the way, seemingly ready to give me an earful, “Okay, listen-“ but paused when we made eye contact.

He stared at me for a moment longer than I was comfortable with, examining my eyes, my face, dragging his gaze down my body for a moment. “Uh, sorry,” he shook his head to clear his breath of whatever he was about to say. He started over, “Listen, we're gonna bump into each other. And I’d take you bumping into me over any one of these other people.”

He peeled one more look over my body. I squinted my eyes, over analyzing the situation in my head. He was a creep- I could already tell. But…a cute creep. A cute creep who obviously thought I was attractive. I could…entertain this.

I giggled at his lame joke, setting a hand against his bicep and leaning my body towards him. “Thank God! I felt so bad just flailing myself into you every two seconds. Good to know you’re as okay with it as I am.”

I saw a flicker of approval flash in his eyes. He straightened his posture a bit. The man looked around his body, to what I assumed were his group of friends to his right, back to me.

“Here,” he moved to the right a bit, creating a gap between himself and Sasha. She glanced over to witness the rest of what was to occur.

The man held out his arm as if to herd me in, gesturing with a nod of his chin for me to step forward, to fill the space he’d made. “Let’s get you a better view.”

It really was a nice thing to do, and I was so used to being treated pretty awfully by men. So, the situation made me gush.

I moved up beside him, our shoulders pressed together. We fell into a conversation so naturally, up until the opener finally came on stage. He made points of conversation throughout their performance, drawing laughter from my stomach and goofy grins to my face. We danced during one of the songs, all gangly limbs and off-beat hips.

When the opener finished, he offered to go get us drinks. I took him up on the offer, if only he promised to leave my can of Twisted Tea unopened until he got here. He made some joke about drugging me, we shared another laugh, and he was off with his friends.

Sasha finally had the opportunity to gush with me. “Oh, my God, he’s so cute!”

I nodded excitedly, feeling the rush of the moment finally settle on my chest. I was giddy, yet still nervous, especially considering Oliver and the band would be out soon.

Oh.

Oliver.

I had nearly forgotten about him.

Or…had I?

No. He had been at the forefront of my memory. Every move this man made reminded me of him. His lanky height- though nowhere near as tall- his crinkled smile, the flecks of gold in his eyes.

Matter of fact, he looked almost exactly like Oliver.

So, I had a type.

Sue me.

Or…

Or I was stupid.

It didn’t matter.

I was going to have fun. Maybe I’d fuck this guy. Maybe we’d get married. Or maybe we'd never speak again. Who knew, who cared?

“Invite him out tonight!” Sasha continued.

I furrowed my brows as I drew myself from my thoughts, “Out where?”

Sasha oh’ed, as though she’d forgotten something, “I didn't tell you. Adam said everyone’s going out after the concert.”

I deflated a little as I worried that Oliver had found out I was here. I’d wanted it to be a surprise, wanted to stall him. If Adam knew I was here, Max knew. And if Max knew, he was excited. Oliver had to be aware.

But, I guess I still had a trick up my sleeve…this new guy, whose name I apparently didn’t even know.

“We’re gonna go to the bar.”

I smiled a little, confident in my newfound plan, “I think I’ll ask.”

Sasha nudged me all cutesy. “Good.”

And, so I did. He joked about how we didn’t know each other’s names and I flirted back that that was arbitrary. But, he told me his was Evan. I told him mine. He said a flowery name was fit for someone like me, sweet and suckle.

It sounded better when Oliver said it.

Oliver’s hands felt better on my waist, but Evan had wrapped one around my back, bracing us against the barricade.

Oliver smelled better. Evan wore something cheap, something overdone and…lingering. Oliver’s scent was something sacred, to me, to the world. It kissed my skin long after I’d been with him.

I tried to push all these terrible things away. How awful of me to be entertaining someone else, when I was so clearly infatuated with Oliver? I either needed to cut ties with Oliver or learn to be able to put him in a box.

I wanted neither option. I wanted him to be all over me, staining me.

I didn’t have to want much, though, because he already was.

Evan was getting much more comfortable with me while we waited for the band, leaning down to whisper flirtations in my ear, ghosting his fingers across the bare strip of skin poking out beneath my corset top. He brought us both two shots- each- and an unopened can of alcohol, as he promised. It didn’t really matter now, considering I’d taken the shots and was letting him basically tongue my neck.

Then, the overhead lights dimmed. A hue of blue hushed the crowd. Murmurs resounded in place of what had been a loud hum of conversation.

Cheers bellowed, though, when a masked figure took a seat at the drum kit. Then, the lights faded out again. Because we were so close, I could see Max and Adam, finding their places on stage. They were masked, too, Max’s hands painted red, their bodies cloaked in darkness. Even just thirty seconds into their performance, long before any music had even begun, I cursed myself for having not come any sooner.

The lights came up again and Oliver was standing there, behind the center-stage microphone, his Vessel persona painting his body. Had I not known he was in this band, I really wouldn’t recognize him. I examined for any signs of my Oliver, only really identifying his lean torso in this dim lighting.

Then, he began singing, and any man I had once known was now a vessel for siren-like music. And I was a ship out at sea. A lamb for slaughter.

I entranced for most of the first song. Evan rocked out beside me, bouncing on his heels, singing the words. I, of course, didn’t know the lyrics. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t able to draw up a single thought, speak a single utterance. I was infatuated, completely gone. A zombie amongst this crowd of busy bodies.

The only thing that snapped me out of my frozen state was Oliver himself. The second song had begun and I think he’d finally noticed me. I didn’t know how he’d missed me- I was center stage, thanks to my brother and the other crew members.

But, Oliver was so focused on his craftsmanship that I went unnoticed. And I didn’t even blame him. This really was like worship. Only, he was my altar. I was his sacrifice.

Blood on both our hands.

When he noticed me, I felt like a giddy teenage girl at a concert. He was singing, dancing around the stage with his lanky legs, when he stopped before Sasha and I. I couldn’t see any flashes of recognition on his face because it was covered up. But I watched the slits of his mask tilt like eyelids, watched him pause, watched his lips rub together like they always did when he was nervous.

Then, I watched him grin.

His teeth were bright white against his blackened skin, edges of his lips pink from the paint that was rubbing off. I could almost see the dimple in his cheeks, almost see the wrinkles by his eyelids. He dipped his chin as if to say, “I see you, darling.”

His smile was nothing compared to mine. I lit up entirely, shoulders straightening, posture lifting. Evan’s hand slipped from around me during my adjustments and he shuffled to move it back.

This caught Oliver’s attention. He glanced to my right, noticed the stranger with his fingers on my skin. The bottom half of his face hardened. He stepped back a bit, as if offended.

In response, like it was second nature, I wriggled out of Evan’s hold. He glanced over at me, concern lacing his features, but then the music drew his attention back in. I shot Oliver an apologetic smile.

He tilted his head to the side, boring the gaze of his mask into my own with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t read his face, couldn’t see his soul through those dark brown eyes, but I could feel the jealousy, could smell it, oozing off of his skin.

He was mad. Not at me- no. He could never be mad at me. He was mad- pissed off at Evan. For touching me. For even breathing in my direction.

And I fucking loved it.

Oliver shook his head, ever so slightly, as if to warn me for what was to come. For I had sinned against him. And the fruit outside of the garden would never taste as good as it did in Eden.

–

The show couldn’t end soon enough.

I’d completely forgotten about Evan, now only indulging in conversation with him when he’d repeat himself, lean closely down into my ear, and badger me until I responded to him. I was too focused on Oliver, on the excitement of what was to come.

So, as soon as the lights went down, I latched onto Sasha’s wrist, “Let’s head backstage.”

We moved to the left, slipping behind the retreating crowd, which was trickling out of the venue at a steady pace. It didn’t take much momentum for us to get out of the pit, to the side of the barricade where a security guard was stationed.

We flashed our badges and he stepped aside to let us through. Then, he motioned for us to walk back down from where we came, between the barricade and the stage, until we reached the other side of the venue.

We did so, beginning our usual debrief. Sasha went first, gushing about the rhythm section, “Cy is just, like…so fucking talented. And, Oh, God- I don’t know what it is. I’ve never really been into it. But, Daisy…”

She gave me a look, a look I’d seen a million times before. I went to respond, beginning my sentence by saying, “They’re so hot-“

But we were interrupted. Evan had called out my name. Sasha and I turned to him, not far from the backstage entrance. He was on the other side of the barricade still, of course. His friends were grouped behind him, conversing, waiting for him.

“Hey,” he let out a breath, as if he had run to get here, when we were literally only ten feet from where we’d been all night. “Where are you running off to?”

Sasha poked my side, as if encouraging me to engage in his flirtations. I wiggled in response, tickled by her touch. I tried not to make my smile to Evan seem so painful, though it was. Couldn’t he take a hint by now?

“Just heading off.”

Evan chuckled, “Well, yeah. But, where to? You partying with the band or what?”

“Oh, um,” I looked to Sasha, hoping she could read the pleading in my eyes. “My brother’s on the crew. So.”

“Sick,” Evan replied. “Listen, we’re going to the bar. You guys should join us. You could bring your brother, the band, though I’m not sure they’d want to party with us. But, yeah, anyways. You should come. I’d love to buy you another drink.”

God, finally, he was finally starting to lose hope that anything would come between us, evident based on the way he was stuttering a little bit. I didn’t mean to be rude or prudish, but…as a person, I was allowed to flirt with someone and then not want to engage in anything more with them. Sure, it was a little shitty to lead him on like that, but that didn’t matter. I was allowed to change my mind.

“Oh, uh…” I, myself, couldn’t seem to get the words out properly. But, I needed to, if not to save face, but also to respect him and his side. “That’s okay. Look, I had fun. But, I’m not really looking for anything right now. I appreciate you, though. And I hope you guys have fun tonight. Yeah?”

Evan seemed shocked by my confession, but understanding enough to nod, though it was slow. He then stepped back, warily moving away from us. “Hey, that’s okay. Uh, listen, if you change your mind…” he was hesitant, self-conscious, but handed me a piece of paper, “here’s my number. We could have some fun together. Call if you change your mind.”

I offered him my most sincere apology, appreciative of how things worked out. Sometimes, men would get overly offended, their egos wounded, and insult you for flirting and not following through with it. He was doing the bare minimum, sure, but it was kind.

I turned back towards where we had been heading, already bracing myself for the mouthful that Sasha would surely give me. She touched my arm to gain a glance from my eyes.

She frowned, “I’m sure one day I’ll understand. But, right now…I just don’t get why you’re putting yourself through this. I won’t badger anymore, I promise. I just…I think you’re worth more than this. I wish you believed in that like I do.”

She left me standing there, her words milking into my bones like acid, only making me feel worse than I did. I wanted to bite back, but feeding the fight would only cause an issue between her and I. I wasn’t about to lose her because of some stupid boy.

I just wish she’d stop saying it all like I was dumb, like I didn’t understand the complexity of the situation. I did- it was complex. I was a complex. I knew it better than anyone.

I shook off the frustration she left me to sit in and followed after her. I caught up and latched onto her arm, springing into some conversation about the show. I was a little upset with her and her incessant need to try to change my mind, but I really wasn’t gonna let it affect our evening.

We ran into my brother and Ronnie on our way back. Ronnie was overjoyed to see the both of us, leaping from her spot to offer hugs. “Oh, girls! I’m so glad you made it out tonight! Daz…I see you’ve finally graced us with your presence?”

I giggled into her shoulder. She clutched me against her side and squeezed me, teasing my absence from the tour thus far. I patted her hip sweetly, “I knooooow. I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Sam ruffled my hair, “Bet you regret now, huh?”

“Oh, my God,” I shoved his hand away from me. Ronnie peeled herself off of me. I nodded enthusiastically, “That was fucking insane. I, like…I don’t even know. That was probably the best fucking concert I’ve ever been to.”

“Now that is the highest compliment we have ever received!” Max’s voice boomed from somewhere behind me. I didn’t have time to turn around because he wrapped his sweaty body around me and lifted me into the air.

I cackled horrendously as he shook me about. “Max! Put me down!”

Adam and Cy came from either side of us, wide grins and cheers. Adam was giddier than I’d ever seen him, “You really liked it that much?”

A hush of silence overwhelmed our group as everyone awaited my response. I’d never realized how much I meant to these guys, how much they valued my approval. “I fucking loved it!”

Everyone cheered, loudly. Max set me back on my feet and I turned to give him a proper embrace. Adam and Cyrus patiently waited their turns, squeezing me tight. They moved onto greeting Sasha. I straightened out my black leather skirt and, in the process, noticed that their red and black paints had smeared across my forearms. I easily rubbed it off with the edge of my skirt and it disappeared.

We stood there for a minute or two, discussing the show, before Max demanded we go back to the dressing room and share a round of shots. Sasha was right- everyone was going out here in an hour or two, after the boys showered, after Sam and Ronnie helped finish tearing down. The two of them joined us for a drink before returning to do so. Max, Adam, and Cyrus usually shared a dressing room with Oliver. So, I was anticipating seeing him when we finally made it to the room. Yet, he was nowhere to be found. Twenty minutes had even passed by, twenty minutes of me trying to not stare at the door. And there was no sign of him.

I finally settled onto the couch beside Max, who was rambling about the crowd. He was so happy that it made my chest flutter. I loved these guys so much. It made the situation with Oliver worse. Things would never work out between us- and I could only pray that that wouldn’t affect my relationship with the rest of the band.

Too much had passed for me to stay comfortable like this. I needed to find Oliver, if not to just tell him how fucking insane his show was, but to fulfill whatever he had promised me with that look he had had on stage.

I glanced at the door for the millionth time, knee bouncing rapidly. Adam, who was seated across from us, with Sasha and Cy on the other couch, leaned forward. He touched my knee to garner my attention away from the door. We had little privacy from the rest of the group, but they were so involved in conversation that they didn’t even notice when he said, “Ollie’s down the hall. To the left.”

I flinched at his words, a frown embedding itself into my cheeks. I shook my head side to side as I tried to deny whatever it was he was suggesting. Adam just raised his brows at me, pursed his lips. “Daz, you’re good. Just go.”

I finally breathed again, having stopped as soon as Oliver’s name left his lips. Then, I gave him this half-hearted, tired smile. And I excused myself from the group.

I couldn’t even overthink whatever had just happened between Adam and I as I flew down the hallway. I stopped before the door on my left, bracing a hand on the handle. I wondered if I should knock, though I didn’t think I really needed to. From the sound of Adam’s tone, Oliver was…waiting for me.

I didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing.

Before I knew it, I was opening the door.

Oliver was standing at the dressing table, hands on either side of the Vessel mask as if he were about to take it off. However, he heard me enter the room and quickly turned to face me. His hands fell to his sides, pink skin poking out of the smeared, fading paint.

I nearly stepped out of the room, somewhat frightened by how predatory he seemed. His shoulders were squared, his chest pushed out. He was frowning, like he was disappointed in me or something. One of his hands traced the countertop as he turned his body to face me. I tried not to squirm at the look of his fingers, delicate, yet so…fit to kill.

“Hi,” I breathed out. The door fell shut behind me and the loud click made me flinch. The room was silent otherwise. Oliver wasn’t saying anything, there wasn’t any low humming of any machinery. I couldn’t hear a single person in the hallway. It was like we had been transported to a different place.

“Um,” I didn’t really even know what to say. Should I apologize for looking at another man? Should I compliment him for the show? Yeah, that’s what I would try.

“I loved-”

“Who was that?” His voice was deeper, hoarse from the performance. It sent a shiver down my spine.

I thought for a moment, carefully planning out my next turn of phrase, “...I don’t even know. Just some guy. I-”

“So, you think it’s okay to flirt with other men right in front of me?” He took a step forward. The movement made me push myself back, against the door. I wasn’t afraid, not in a bad way. I just felt like…prey. Like I was being stalked, methodically being coerced towards a trap, only to be skinned and eaten alive.

“No-no. I don’t think-”

“So you agree?” He took another step. The distance between us was slowly but surely being squashed.

I furrowed my brows, swallowing thickly, “Agree…agree to what? Oliver, I’m so confused-” I let out a breathy laugh.

He silenced me again, another step. “You agree that you behaved poorly. You were a bad girl, darling. I think it’s quite clear. Bad girls need to be punished.”

I didn’t say anything- wasn’t able to say anything else as he moved closer. After a moment, Oliver’s chest was against mine, his breath hot as it blew down over my face. I tried to breath properly, but failed, especially as he trailed his fingers up over my thighs, across my hips, to my waist. One hand found my throat, the other came to rest on my hips.

And, I realized…this wasn’t Oliver, not anymore. This was Vessel.

And, Vessel pressed me harder against the door as our lips met, tongues clashing against teeth, hungrily. We moved together so easily, entranced by the other’s taste. I gripped at his sides, pulling me into him, arching my back to press my chest against his. Vessel’s hold tightened, too, and he ground my hips against his.

I felt him get hard, quickly, the loose material of his pants allowing his erection to fully grind against my thigh. He was whiney, all gasping breaths, low moans, as I drug my fingers down his chest, dipped them through his waistband. He made such big claims about how I apparently needed to be punished, but turned into mush when I got a hold of him.

I nearly got to wrap a hand around him, but Vessel grabbed my fingers harshly in his, slamming my hand against the door, above my head. My eyes shot back open in surprise, though I didn’t even remember closing them. “S’all about you right now, darling,” he demanded, words against my lips. “Have to remind you why I’m better than him. That I know your body better than he ever could.” Vessel shoved his head into the crevice of my neck, nipping and tonguing at my flesh. My eyes dropped shut again, head hitting the door in a way that would probably hurt tomorrow. I had a feeling all of me would hurt tomorrow. But, I didn’t care. This was what I had been craving since the beginning of the concert.

Vessel drug his fingers up my arms, leaving goosebumps in his path, trails of black paint like a roadmap amongst my freckles. He slid the straps of my shirt down past my shoulders. Then, he kissed his way down to the arch of my breasts. He rolled the material between his teeth and sunk to the floor as he drugged it down my body. His hands quickly found my skirt, too, unzipping it and tugging it off. Now, Vessel was on his knees below me.

Vessel looped an arm around either of my thighs, nearly pulling my entire weight onto his shoulders. I clutched onto the top of his head, feeling some of his hair slip out from the cap he wore beneath his mask. It was soft, like I remembered it being, though just a bit sweaty. He glanced up at my bare breasts, smirking devilishly now. I tugged on his hair, like I know he always liked, but he refused to give in.

He admired my desperate face as he said, “Besides, darling, I watched you worship me all night. It’s my turn to pray at your altar.”

My head hit the door again as Vessel sunk his tongue into me. He had managed to tear my underwear down with his teeth and they were now somewhere laying across the room. I ground my hips into his face, back arching each time his nose would then rub against my sweet spot. I tried to be quiet at first, though small gasps and moans slipped from my bitten lips.

But, then, Vessel stopped, eliciting a whine from me. He chuckled, lips slick from me. He darted his tongue out, smirking as he cleaned his mouth. He tilted his head in disappointment, “You’re usually so loud for me, darling. Don’t get shy now, just because you’re feeling guilty. I want him to hear how good I make you feel. I want to hear how desperate I am making you feel. Me. Not him. Me."

I nodded, dazed, brows furrowed, fingers digging at his hair. The cap covering his hair had fallen off his head at this point, but the mask managed to stay on. I was grateful it did. He was like a different person, which only blazed these primal desires we shared. Vessel watched my face as he pressed his tongue back up into me, running the tip of it down my entire core. I moaned, loudly, back arched into the cold air, nipples hard from the temperature and arousal. He chuckled deeply into me, making my thighs shake around his head. Vessel pried me back open with his fingers, nearly bruising my skin. He continued on and on and on until I was close. I vocalized my point of no return, and he hurriedly spoke, “Don’t. Be a good girl and wait. For me, okay? Don’t want to make things worse for yourself, darling.

I nodded wildly, clenching my stomach to deny myself of the orgasm. Vessel gently set my feet back on the ground. He guided me by the hips towards the counter. Easily, he picked me up and set me on it. It was freezing cold against my bare skin, but his warm hands, tongue, were on me soon enough. I took the opportunity to unlatch his belt, fingers moving hurriedly. Vessel moved to help me, tugging the pants down his thighs.

Vessel then pushed me back from him, taking control again. He pushed my legs open further with his bare knee. Then, he grabbed me by the hips and tugged me down till my back was flat against the counter. His hand splayed across my thigh as he pushed himself inside of me.

He was sloppy, quick in desperation as he fucked me. But, every thrust he pushed into me was strong, deep. Vessel wrapped my legs around his waist, securing me by the hip. His other hand drug itself up my chest until his fingers were wrapped around my throat. Black paint smeared most of my skin. There was even a ring around his mouth where the paint had transferred from his skin to my own. I don’t know how we would manage to keep this rendezvous a secret from everyone else with the state we were both in. But, right now, I couldn’t care. We always figured it out.

Vessel leaned himself overtop of me, his forehead against my chest. Though he was dominating me, he was so caught up in the pleasure that he was starting to quickly come undone. I touched his back, nails digging into his skin. He tossed his head back at the sensation, neck exposed to me. I eyed the veins protruding from his skin. He smirked at me when he noticed I was staring at his neck. He growled, “Take a bite. Leave your mark. I am yours, darling. And you are mine.”

I held one hand, tightly, to his shoulder, keeping him steady as he fucked me. I couldn’t overthink what he had just said to me, though I nearly lost concentration as the thoughts swirled in my brain. But, I gripped the back of his head with the other, steadying my reality. I was slow at first, nipping at his neck gently. Vessel’s thrusts were becoming sloppy with each bite I took. I was close, too. So, I opened my jaw further, taking a pinch of his skin between my upper and lower canines. I bit down, hard.

“Fuck!”

He quickly pulled out and came on my stomach, as he normally did. As he came undone, my body shook from my own climaxed desire. Vessel pressed his forehead against mine as we rode out our high. We came down from the top and he gave me a sloppy kiss. It was stupid, but the small show of affection meant more to me than anything he’d ever done.

There was a bitter cold left on my skin as he stepped back. I hugged myself, finally taking in the black paint covering my skin. “Oh, god,” I laughed.

Vessel pulled his pants up. He looked at my body, grinning, “Fuck. That’s so hot. Darling, if we had more time…”

“I know,” I smiled up at him. “Hey, we have the rest of the summer.”

“God, don’t tempt me. Here, Daz, there’s a bathroom over here,” this was Oliver now. He finished buckling his belt before peeling off his mask. Sweat dripped down either side of his face and he wore this cheesy grin. Oliver offered me his hand.

I followed him into the side room. He found a washcloth on the side of the sink, clean and unused, and wet it with warm water. Oliver gently pried my hands from covering my body and busied himself with wiping down my skin. He focused on what would be visible: My arms, neck, hands, face. I watched him while he worked. It was fucking hot when he was dominating, disgustingly dirty. But, this, this caring demeanor? This was the Oliver I loved.

Oh, God. I loved Oliver. I was starting to feel a little sick.

When he was finished, he rounded up my dress, shoes, and underwear. Oliver watched sweetly, even helping when I stumbled over my own feet. We giggled into each other’s mouths practically as his hands found my hips and he steadied me. I wondered if he’d bring up Evan again, or if he even cared that much. Maybe it was just a prompt for sex, a situation that allowed him to dominate me. Maybe he hadn’t even meant it when he said he was mine. But I knew I’d always be his.

As we giggled into each other, I was finally able to take in Oliver’s face and had to cover my mouth to stifle the cackle that tickled my throat. He frowned, slightly, confused by my laughter. “What? What is it?”

I touched his shoulders, forcing him to face the mirror. His head pulled back in shock at his appearance.

I kept laughing and Oliver peered down at me with a tilted head. “Keep laughing, darling.”

“I’m sorry, Ollie” I shrugged, “it’s just so fucking funny.”

“What’s funny?”

I yelped, trying to duck out of the way as he jolted towards me. He caught me by the waist, rattling me around in his hold. I giggled, loudly against his chest, trying to twist out of his hold. His mouth was near my ear as he teased me, “Not so funny now, huh?” I rested my forehead to his shoulder in my fit of laughter. Oliver calmed his movements, just holding me against him now. “It just goes to show the mess you make out of me,” he murmured against my ear, lips pressed to the shell of it.

I looked up at him and pointed a warning finger, “Don’t do that.”

“I know,” he huffed as he tossed his head back in frustration. “We should be getting back. Don’t want anyone to suspect anything still. We nearly got caught the other day.”

“Sadly,” I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to ignore what else he had said. About getting caught. He acted so offended by the thought, as if I were a stain to his reputation, a whore to his royal highness.

Oliver, however, seemed to be able to read the deflated energy in my tone. He leaned around to meet my eyes, touching my chin with his finger, “Darling, I think we should talk.”

Oh, here we go. Here was the dreaded conversation. He was probably going to end things. I was being…too much. I was taking this relationship too seriously, pinning all my hopes and dreams on a man who just wasn’t able to love somebody. He was too full of darkness, too hurt to find the capacity to love me like I deserved. He was ‘going through things.’ He was ‘broken.’ He needed ‘space.’ It wasn’t me- it was him. It was always him. Him. Him. Him. Oliver.

I knew this would happen eventually. I braced myself for impact as I watched him take a breath. I couldn’t find the space in my lungs for any air and it burned my veins. My stomach churned. My brain hurt, so, so badly. I was…tired. I just wanted him to say it already, to kill me, to twist the knife. Get it over with. I was tired of the games, tired of the back and forth. If it was going to end- could it just be now? Before he kissed me again and I fell even more in love with him?

Oliver loaded the gun, aimed, and fired, “I don’t like the idea of you sleeping with other people. I know that’s selfish and loaded and…I don’t know. I meant it when I said you were mine. And I…I am yours, Daisy. I need you, only you…and I need you to feel the same. But, I understand if you cannot because of the way our relationship still has to stand. Nothing really has changed on that end. And it’s so shitty of me. I want to…I want it to be different. But it can’t. I don’t know, I just…I need you to say something before I lose my mind…”

I twisted in his arms, finally finding the ability to breathe. My jaw was slack, my brows furrowed together as I took in everything he had just said. I didn’t know, exactly, what to say, so I tried to just focus on my breathing. This wasn’t some big love confession, no, not the one in the pouring rain, or beneath the sheets of his hotel bed that I had been wishing for. But, it was something. In fact, this was horrible. This was…selfish. Like he had said. Selfish and loaded and bullshit. But…it was something. It was…him. Him and I. It was him admitting his feelings, in his own twisted way. He was mine. He had said it, clear as day, had demanded it of me, too, in a desperate, breathless confession. He was mine- I was his. We belonged to each other, even if that didn’t change any of the strings between us. It was something for me to hold onto.

It was something for me to worship, to pray to, to hope on. A star in my Northern sky, a hand around my throat and heart…Oliver’s. Oliver. My Oliver.

That was when I truly knew how devastating things would be when they ended. I could see the fire from there, could feel it licking at my skin. Yet, all I did was smile through the burning, lean up, and kiss the flame.

#sleep token #sleep token x reader #vessel x reader #sleep token smut #vessel x you #sleep token x you #vessel sleep token #sleep token band #sleep token fanfic #sleep token iii

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heartbreakgrill · 3 months

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Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Pt. 5, "Is it cool that I said all that?"

A week passed, just like that. We had flown to Germany at the beginning of the next week, where we’d be for just fourteen days before we’d move onto France.

Oliver and I didn’t have many chances to see one another. We were always on different wavelengths. Him, with rehearsals, vocal rests, writing sessions. Me, with the delicacies of travel. The only times we really saw each other were during breakfast or dinner, two places he’d been making a point to show up to. No one really noticed his newfound presence- no one but me, considering it seemed to previously be a way for him to spite my very existence.

His first appearance happened the very next morning after our conversation on the bus. After he kissed me like he was going off to battle, we rode the elevator up our floor, departed at my door, and just an hour later, he ended up texting me goodnight. That message alone was enough to have my heart beating crazily.

The next morning, I was still feeling that aftershock while sitting at the breakfast table, talking to Ronnie about her brother’s baby. The elevator doors dinged, opening up like the literal gates of heaven. I barely paid any mind because everyone who normally came to breakfast was already seated at our table. But, I did spare a glance and caught sight of his dark figure, slinking towards us. I gave a second look, stumbling over whatever it was I had been saying to Ronnie. I covered up my stutter by clearing my throat, but she didn’t really notice, nor did she seem to care. Oliver sat at the end of the table, greeting everyone with his same simple nod. My heart was going again.

I tried not to stare, tried not to even look at him for fear of melting on the spot, even when I felt his eyes burning into my face. I was blushing, bright red. My knee shook, nervously, under the table as I brushed my hair from my cheeks, behind my ears. I caught his eye from the corner of my own and he smiled, ever so slightly.

I was done for, I knew it.

It became a delight to see him at these meals, even if we never got the chance to speak to each other; even if, afterwards, he’d shoot back upstairs to his room. That was always my favorite part, when he disappeared from the table because, shortly after, he’d text me.

Something like:

Oliver: your hair looked pretty today.

Daisy: you looked alright 🤷

Oliver: wooooooow

I compliment you and this is how you treat me

Daisy: oh im so super sorry

Oliver, you are so handsome and gorgeous and amazing and awesome

Better?

Oliver: sure, sure

That’s where most of our conversation took place, over text, especially that first week that whatever this was began to take place.

He’d text me good morning and good night, nearly every single day. He’d ask how my day was, ask me what sort of plans I had. I kept waiting for this question to evolve into another one, something like, “Wanna hang out later?” I’d settle for a damn booty call, if that’s what he wanted. I tried not to get frustrated when that first week drug on, knowing he was insanely busy. I couldn’t expect him to drop everything else and prioritize me. But, a small part of me hoped he would.

I just wanted a little bit more of his attention.

Luckily, I- eventually- got it.

We were in Germany for the next week. We flew out from Italy that Sunday, settled into our hotel in the early afternoon. I hadn’t planned anything for that Monday, hoping to just rest a bit, leisure across the city, maybe. I knew, too, that the band was off that day. Maybe a small part of me was making sure I was available in case he wanted to grace me with his presence. I wouldn’t admit it, though, because it just wasn’t healthy.

But, my hopes amounted to something.

At first, things seemed to regress. There were no messages from him on my phone.

I thought about texting him first, but I felt strange doing so, like he’d be annoyed if I reached out instead. I then tried to ignore the sinking feeling that this put in my chest. Maybe he was done with me. Maybe he realized that this wasn’t ever going anywhere, especially considering we hadn’t so much as had an in-person conversation in a week. Luckily, I hadn’t slept with him.

My mind began racing too much, so I pulled myself out of bed and started getting ready for the day. Sam was already gone. He told me yesterday that he, Cy, Adam, and Ronnie had made plans to go do something. He offered me to come with, but I really wanted to just laze about. There was an infinity pool and today was going to be one of the warmest days of the summer for this country. Soaking up the sun seemed like a good way to truly relax.

So, I put on a bathing suit, slipped a sundress overtop, and rubbed sunscreen all over myself. I wasn’t about to battle a sunburn on top of jet lag. Then, I packed my purse with my water bottle, my latest book, headphones, and my wallet. Just as I went to grab my phone, sling my towel over my shoulder, head out, a knock came from the door.

I turned to the sound with furrowed brows. Housekeeping wasn’t supposed to come until we told them to. And, as far as I knew, we hadn’t scheduled a cleaning.

“Who is it?” I called out, stepping towards the door.

“It’s me,” a low voice responded, hushed in volume.

A thrilling excitement suddenly rushed through my veins. I tried not to rush over to the door and instead, forced myself to take slow steps. I set a hand on the handle, already feeling a shake in my bones. Just being this close to him pulled some sort of chemical reaction out of me.

The door opened and Oliver turned his head straight, to really look at me. He had been checking over his shoulder, paranoid about any passerbyers. As soon as he saw me, he grinned, wide. Then, he didn’t hesitate to shove me back into the room, his hands on my hips, his lips grasping for mine. He threw the door shut behind him.

It took me a second to find my footing. But, when I did, I became desperate, hungry. I tugged at the front of his hoodie in an attempt to get him as close to me as physically possible. Oliver ran a hand up my hip, across the front of my body, between my breasts, up around my neck. His fingers were slotted just beneath either side of my jaw. He pressed down, ever so slightly, to ensure my mouth stayed on his.

As he kissed me, I could tell he was basically starved. This was even more evident when he nipped my bottom lip, drawing just the thinnest drop of blood. I moaned, involuntarily, at the feeling of his teeth pulling at my skin, though it was only for a millisecond.

Oliver reared his head back, looking down at me with furrowed brows. He processed what had just happened, assisted by the size of my pupils and the way my lips sat, open, waiting for him to come back. A smirk twisted onto his lips, “Oh, darling…”

He pulled me back in, running his tongue across my bottom lip to clear the blood. My knees were weak. Luckily, he moved, so that he was sitting on the bed and tugged me down into his lap again. He didn’t hesitate to grab my ass, grip on my throat tightening a bit. He moved his lips to my cheek as his movements became painfully slow.

“You’re so pretty, Daisy,” he whispered against the apple of my cheek. I felt his eyelids flutter across my skin as he moved away from my lips. I nearly shivered at the goosebumps, a stark contrast to the heat pooling all over my body.

He moved his other hand to my neck, too, brushing the hair down over the back of my shoulder. In doing so, he placed his hand back where it had been. Then, his lips made their way to my bare skin, right where my neck curved into my shoulder. His sweet, soft kisses suddenly turned into small nips, his teeth tugging at my skin.

I squeaked at the first one, but, then, as he carried on down my neck, I found pleasure in the nipping pain. I gripped at his shoulders, a hand moving to his hair, as my desperation took over my body. I couldn’t sit still anymore. I ground my hips down into his, eliciting a huffed breath from Oliver. I wanted to grin at the power I knew I had over him, but I really just wanted to stay as I was- putty in his hands. I didn’t want any control. I was his to use, his to manipulate. I would do whatever.

But, I did find a little bit of a rhythm in my hips, if only because I needed the friction. I was motivated when I knew it was making him feel good, too. As I did so, Oliver’s lips came to my skin again. They caressed the edge of my earlobe, where I could hear his sweet breathlessness.

“Daisy,” he whispered, nearly moaning my name into my ear.

I shuddered a sharp, audible breath at the sound of this. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed him- everywhere. The anticipation, all of these long weeks- even just this one- it was killing me.

I pressed my forehead against the side of his head, whispering my own words into his ear, “Oliver, please!”

He finally listened. His hand found the bottom hem of my sundress and he quickly tore it from my head. It landed somewhere across the room. Eyes still dropped shut, I went blindly for his hoodie. But, Oliver caught my hands in his, stretching my arms out on either side of us.

I opened my eyes curiously, brows furrowed. His gaze was dragging itself down my swimsuit-clad body, a sly grin on his lips. I blushed at the look on his face and wanted to pull my arms back around myself. But, he held me open. He kept admiring.

“Daisy, darling,” he rolled his eyes back up, over my chest, until he met my stare. A wider grin stretched across his face. “Daisy…you are gorgeous.”

I scrunched up my nose and looked down at our laps. He dropped our hands and took my face in his hold, pulling my eyes back to his. “Don’t do that. We’re not gonna do that, okay? Even if you have to pretend, I won’t let you be ashamed of yourself when we do this, okay? You are…so fucking beautiful.”

I took a deep breath as the sincerity of his words sunk into my skin. I nodded slightly.

Oliver eyed my lips and slowly leaned back into me. This kiss was different. The hunger, the ferocity, slowed. It was almost…loving, gentle. But, then, I moved my hands back to his hair, tugged slightly, and he went back to ravishing me.

I helped Oliver shed his hoodie. Then, I had my turn, admiring his toned chest, scarce of any dark makeup. I didn’t have to say anything to him. I knew that he could read all of my thoughts through my eyes.

What I wanted to say, but couldn’t quite find the words to, was that he was something out of a Greek myth, something untouchable. Something that would never be real.

I drug my fingers down his chest as he kissed me again. I undid his belt. When I tugged at his jeans, I found my footing on the floor, moving off of him, so he could stand to pull the pants down. His hands were back on my body in an instant. Though he began to tug me back on his lap, I had my own plans. Just as I began to crouch down to his knees, Oliver opened his mouth to protest, but-

A knock sounded from the door, followed by a taunting, “Daisy…”

Shit.

Max.

My spine straightened so fast, I thought it would snap in half. Mine and Oliver’s head whipped towards the door, my own gaze widened with utter shock. Oliver formed a fist with his hand, punching the palm of his other in slow defeat.

He looked back to me, fear in his pupils, “What the fuck?”

I shrugged defensively, bewildered. I went to whisper back when Max spoke again. “Daisyyyyyy, darling- I know you’re awake. Was wondering if you wanted to hang today, since we’re both free. Cmon, open up-“ he rapped his knuckles against the door again.

Everything occurred in a desperate haste: Oliver rounded up his clothes, arms stuffed full of them, within five seconds flat. I tracked down his shoes as he did so. Then, I nearly pushed him onto the floor of the bathroom. He stumbled on his feet, barely catching himself on the counter. As the door fell shut, he shot me a panicked, worrisome expression that I could only scrunch my face up at. I didn’t know what he wanted me to do, but he was acting like someone was here to murder him.

I went to the door, sweating a bit, and lay a shaky hand upon the knob. Then, I realized I was half-naked and rushed to pull my dress back on. Before he could knock again, I let Max in, hoping I looked anything but suspicious.

As soon as he came into view, Max was elbowing his way inside. He held a tray with two drinks and a small brown pouch that wafted a delicious smell past me.

He carried an energy that was far too excited for my current nervous stature. “Good morning, darling! Sleep well? I sure did. What are your plans for the day? I’m thinking we lounge out by the pool for a few hours, maybe catch a late lunch, then hit the town? Drop by a few bars? Maybe we can round up the rest of the group, force Oliver out of his self-inflicted prison, have some fun? Yeah?”

As he spoke, Max moved around the room, unloading one of the drinks into my hands, picking out a few napkins, presenting a pastry on the small desk in the corner, seating himself onto the bed all casually with a leg crossed over the other. When he finished, he took a slow sip of his coffee, brows raised expectantly

I toyed with the lid on my drink, eyes darting nervously towards the bathroom. I knew it wasn’t true, but I almost felt like I could hear Oliver’s breathing. Smell his cologne. I worried Max would, too.

Everything would be over.

“Um-“ I cleared my throat. Then, I tried to relax my shoulders and approach Max with a friendly smile. “Yeah! Yeah, that could be fun. I was planning on going down to the pool anyway.”

“Wonderful, darling,” Max approved, “Well, why don’t you go ahead and finish getting ready and we’ll get going.”

I looked around me, trying to remember where I had left off this morning, when Oliver had barged in and interrupted my routine.

“I just need to grab my stuff, actually. I was heading out the door before O-“ I cut myself off from my explanation, lips pinched together in a way that I could only assume looked quite guilty. I swallowed thickly, ashamedly glancing towards the bathroom again. I tried to save myself, “before you started knocking, ha! What a coincidence!”

“Coincidence…” Max followed my glancing gaze. I snapped my eyes back forward, and he met me there. The edges of his pupils seemed to squint, like he was reading between the lines, but he didn’t say anything else. “Well! To the pool we go!”

We were in the clear…for now.

Oliver: i am so fucking sorry

Hes a prick

So fucking daft

God

I love him

But what a bloody idiot

Daisy: LMFAO

I dont even know what to say

I feel bad for you!!

Theres gonna be a witch hunt for you if anyone ever figures it out

Oliver: god dont remind me

Youre so worth it though

We spent hours poolside, like two beached whales, glistening with sweet sweat on our shoulders and sunscreen in our skin. I dipped into the water infrequently, if only to cool myself down, but spent most of my time finishing up a book (texting Oliver between its pages). I cursed Max for his lightly tinted shades, praying to whatever God above that he wasn’t side-eyeing me, that he couldn't see my illicit grins, my quick thumbs.

I tried to get Oliver to come hang out with us. If I couldn't have him to myself, I’d take small doses of him with others. But, as vampiric as he was, laying by the pool was just not something he wanted to do. Besides, in his own words:

Oliver: I just wouldn't be able to be so close to you without doing something

Especially with you in that little bit of cloth you call a swimsuit

I should be a dick and make you squirm

Make you think about me while you’re all peaceful by the pool

Make you think about my hands

My teeth

Daisy: Oliver…

Asshole

Oliver: sorry, darling

But after that incident with the cake?

And that bathing suit

Yeah i think it's my turn

(1 attached photo)

The heat outside was nothing compared to what I felt in my chest. I ensured my jaw was shut tightly, unwilling to let the saliva pooled in my mouth dribble down my chin. Then, I scrounged through my photo albums, cursing myself for having deleted my most intimate photos. Instead, I had to just stare (drool) at the one he’d sent- his hand, his bare stomach, the very edges of his pitch black boxers.

I would never lose this game- I just couldn't. But, in this moment, I was! While I liked being submissive in the end, I enjoyed being the one doing the teasing. That slight upper hand I got from it gave me a headrush. I was, I guess…bratty.

So, I watched Max carefully from the corner of my vision, thankful for my tiny bathing suit. I could make do- if he’d just leave. He was reading his own novel, hunched over a little bit. It had been a while since he’d gone to the bathroom or really even moved. He had to eventually.

My wishing on invisible stars worked because Max excused himself to the bathroom. He first paused to ensure I was doing okay. I thanked him for his concern with an urgent smile, quick nod of my head. And then he was gone.

Daisy: I really don’t get what all this fuss is about. I think this suit covers me up just fine, don’t ya think?

(1 attached photo)

Oliver: behave, miss thing

You have no idea what’s waiting for you

Daisy: sure, sure

Needless to say, Oliver put me on the very edge of my seat all day. I only had the one photo that was taken in the heat of the moment. He had…an empty hotel room and an imagination like any other. He never let me see past those stupid boxers though, holding out on me to only intensify that anticipation.

As was Max’s plan, we grabbed a late lunch. I had hoped we’d change beforehand, but he was so hungry, we had to rush out of the hotel. And, as per usual with Max, he took his good old time eating, strolling leisurely, dropping by every single shop that caught his eye. Don’t get me wrong- it was a lot of fun. I was grateful to have some one-on-one time with him.

But, I knew what- who was waiting for me back at the hotel. So, I was a little distracted.

Eventually, the day was coming to a close. No one really wanted to go out drinking because the band had rehearsals early in the morning. Instead, we were all going to meet up for a light dinner in the hotel bar.

I tried to escape Max as soon as we entered the hotel, but he insisted on walking me to my room. Meanwhile, Oliver was shooting me a dozen messages- he was in his room, he didn’t have a shirt on, and he was waiting for even the shortest possible breath that he could take at my lips.

Max stood outside my door, yapping about some shop lady who had made a joke to us earlier. He kept laughing, kept going over the punchline. It was funny, sure, but I was literally trying to close the door between us, a forced smile aching on my cheeks. We had to be at dinner in just half an hour and I needed to shower. I would sacrifice all that time for Oliver, but I was sure I smelled of sunscreen and sweat. I needed to rush under the hot water, and then rush into his arms.

“Ha! Can you imagine? What kind of-” Max kept going.

I faked another laugh, positive that one of my eyelids was winking shut, visibly displaying the max level of insanity that I felt right now. I took another step back into my room, preparing to bid farewell.

Luckily, Max caught sight of the time. “Holy shit, Daz,” he looked up from his watch, “it’s so late! Sorry to cut our wonderful day short, but we better hit the showers before everyone wonders where we’re at.”

“Ah! Good idea!” I bumped the heel of my hand against my head, shock on my face. Then, I pushed up onto my tiptoes to give him a short kiss to the cheek, “Thank you for today. I really just had the best time ever! Love you, Max!”

Then, as he began to respond, “Aw, darling, me, too! I love you-” I shut the door on him, “Oh- yep! I’ll see you in a bit!”

The speed at which I moved through that hotel room was sure to rip the carpet up off of the floor. I kicked off my sandals, sending one right into the window. It made a loud clanking noise, which I flinched at, before landing on Sam’s bed. But then I was already moving onto my sundress, tearing it off, ripping my swimsuit down my legs, over my head. Once those were off, I jumped in the shower, grateful that I didn’t need to wash my hair so I could do a quick rinse.

I was back out of the shower as quickly as I’d gotten in, doing my hair up into a claw clip, pulling on an outfit that didn’t require much thought, but was still concise enough to be cute. I barely had my phone and purse in hand before I was shooting across the hall, like a chicken crossing the road.

Oliver opened the door before I could even take a breath, tugging me in by my hips.

He had my back pressed up against the door, one of his spare hands already holding the base of my throat like a goddamn rosary. His dark eyes stared down at me, hungry, like he was about to consume every inch of my flesh. I went to say something, brows already lifted on my face in their devious position. In the process, my hands fished for him, grabbing at his shirt.

In one easy moment, Oliver grabbed both of my wrists, stretching my arms up and above my head. He squeezed my throat, ensuring my eyes were on his. My back arched from the movement, my chest pushing through the air as a small whine escaped my lips subconsciously.

Oliver drug his eyes down my body, smirking pleasedly at the movement he drew from my body. “We have five minutes. Shut the fuck up and be a good girl for me, yeah?”

“Okay.”

We weren’t really being realistic about how much time we would get together.

Two minutes later, Oliver was on his knees below me, his large hands bruising either one of my thighs, my hands were entangled in his hair, my underwear were somewhere far across the room, and his breath was ghosting my core. Just as he inched painfully, teasingly closer, someone was knocking on his door.

It was my turn to hide as Adam and Cyrus ushered Oliver from his hotel room, excitedly telling him about some new song they’d just heard. After ensuring in the bathroom mirror that I didn’t look disheveled, I watched through the peephole as they neared the elevators. Oliver peered over his shoulder, the smallest of smiles on his lips. I rolled my eyes. Of course he’d find it funny- he was winning again.

Then, when the hallway seemed clear, I quickly left his room and tried to casually make my way down to the dining room.

Oliver was trying not to laugh, I just knew it- his lips were pressed together, a humored look in his eyes as he pretended to be occupied with the potatoes he mashed around with his dinner fork. I glared at him as I approached the table.

Then, Sam was talking to me, asking me and Max about our busy day and I had to pretend like their best friend hadn’t just been on his knees for me.

This was killing me.

Surely, I thought to myself as dinner came to a close and everyone began heading to bed, surely we would find the time. Surely our luck wasn’t that bad. We’d get some time alone- we just had to.

So, as the elevator that Sam, Ronnie, and I caught closed, and carried us to the fifth floor, I quickly texted Oliver. I crossed my fingers behind my back, hoping, praying, wishing this would work.

Daisy: soon as Sam goes to bed, i can be over

A heavy heat of anticipation sat right on top of my chest, shooting off butterflies in my stomach, making me breathless when I said goodnight to Ronnie.

I waited, patiently, for about an hour- no, exactly an hour and ten minutes. I waited an hour and ten minutes for Oliver to text me back. I stared at the numbers in the top middle of my phone screen as I pretended to read a book. Then, when Sam lay down and shut off all the lights, I rolled onto my side, the dim glow of my screen filling my corner of the room. My eyes glazed over numerous times while each little number morphed into the next. Slowly but painfully surely, the delightful anticipation began to dissipate.

I really wanted to be chill, to be normal and casual and just…go to bed. Accept that maybe he had fallen asleep, maybe his phone had died. Pretend like there wasn’t a small hole sinking in my stomach.

But, I saw him begin typing forty minutes in.

And then he stopped.

And I still waited another half an hour for him to respond.

He never did.

The next morning, I was able to forget about it.

I focused on the productive conversation we’d had in the bus, the one where he set a boundary with me, where he told me he couldn’t really offer me much in terms of connection or romance. The one where I practically begged him to just have me in whatever way he could.

And, I forced myself to stop worrying about the fact that he never responded. The world, after all, did not revolve around me. I needed to be reminded of that and have patience with him. Besides, I wasn’t going to allow myself to feel that- disappointment. Small bits of heartbreak. This meant basically nothing, right? We were just hooking up, hanging out. It wasn’t that big of a deal, like we discussed.

I’m chill with that.

I ate breakfast with the band, discussing with Ronnie some of the best tourist attractions that she suggested I seek out. Oliver was a little late this morning, feet dragging a bit. When I saw him round the corner to the dining room, I sat up just a bit. He seemed tired as he took a seat at the opposite end of the table, hoodie up, as per usual. He didn’t really touch any of his food, but instead nursed a cup of tea. So, I ignored the sinking feeling that came when he didn’t even look at me.

He showed up. That’s what really mattered.

I tried not to be distracted as Ronnie told me about some sort of monument, but it was a struggle when my concern for Oliver was as relevant as it was. There was just something off about him…and it almost felt like it had to do with us, with me. Or maybe I was just reading into things a little too much. Again.

Everyone else finished up their breakfast before me. So, the group broke off before long, a few headed out the door to the venue, some up to their rooms to grab last minute items. I watched as Oliver straggled behind Adam and Cyrus, towards the elevators. When he first stood to follow them, I tried to meet his eye, tried to shoot him a reassuring, encouraging smile. He evaded my gaze. My shoulders dropped a little.

When they were out of sight, I took my phone out and grappled with texting him. I felt like I should, just to see if he was okay. But, then, the part of me that knew there was nothing serious between us fought against that want. It wasn’t weird, right? If I texted him, just to see how he’s doing?

But, then, come to think of it…he never even said good morning to me. So he probably just wanted to be left alone. I should probably just read the signs he was clearly giving and just provide him with some space. He didn’t need me up his ass at every waking moment, constantly expressing my concern for his every move. Especially not after the conversation we’d just had.

I felt a little insecure, a little worried, going back over every interaction we’d had like I was responsible for a grown man’s feelings. I pushed aside the overthinking my brain was ruminating on and decided to just get up, to just get started with my day.

This thing between us was not going to work out if I overanalyzed his every breath, if I let it all get to me. I needed to chill out- just be chill. Cool.

I headed for the elevators, purse slung over my shoulder. The doors were already opened, so I stepped inside. When I faced forward, Oliver was there, following me in, my name barely a greeting off his lips.

“Daisy…”

“Oliver, hey-”

He interrupted me, lips on mine before I could even take a breath. I was taken aback, just briefly, before getting swept up in his soft touches, his hungry mouth. My purse slid off my shoulder. Oliver’s fingers caressed my cheek, my hip, pushing into me until my back was against the wall.

We kissed until the bell dinged, signaling that the doors were opening up to our floor. Oliver pulled back, quickly distancing himself from me. His chest heaved a little, out of breath from our encounter. His pupils were shot, wide, blown up. I furrowed my eyebrows as I carefully eyed him. I was trying to read between the lines here, but I couldn’t.

And he was gone before I could ask for any answers from him.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, rubbing moisturizer into my freshly clean face. Taylor Swift was playing softly on my phone, a subtle soundtrack to my evening routine. It had been another long day of perusing across Europe. My feet ached from the 10 miles I’d walked, my stomach was full from the delicious dinner I caught on the way home, and my brain was buzzing with all of the sights and sounds I’d taken in. I was going to cherish these evenings for the rest of my life.

I had even managed to stop worrying about Oliver, had let the pitiful racing thoughts that had been taking up space in my mind fall away. I was going to be cool about it. I was going to be the chill, casual girl.

What we had, what we were doing, was just hooking up. We hadn’t explicitly agreed on keeping any strings to ourselves, but Oliver had told me he couldn’t really offer any in the first place. And that was okay! It’s not like I needed to be in a relationship anyways. I was going back to school in the fall and I’d probably, honestly, never even see him again after this summer.

Casually hooking up with someone would probably be good for my development, anyways. It would teach me to become more comfortable with my body, to be more patient, to be more understanding. To just chill the fuck out, honestly. Yeah, I’d totally gotten rid of those racing thoughts…ha.

Anyways, even though I wanted to text him, to see what was going on, to see if he was okay, I just wasn’t going to. I was gonna tuck myself into bed, get a goodnight’s rest, and prepare myself for another long day. Focus on me, my happiness, my health.

My plan was going well, too. I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Then, at around midnight, I woke to my phone buzzing on my nightstand.

I lazily brought the device to my ear, murmuring some sort of greeting through half-lidded eyes. “Hello?”

“Come over.”

“What- hello? Oliver?” I sat up in bed, a little jolted by the situation. I spoke in hushed whispers, eyes on Sam’s figure to ensure that he was passed out still.

Oliver’s voice replied in an exhausted tone, “I can’t sleep. Come over.”

I took my sweet time, not wanting to seem desperate, not wanting to be at his beck and call. I pulled a hoodie down over my torso before slipping out of the room. I guided the door shut, flinching when it clicked a little louder than expected. Once I was sure the hall was clear, I headed towards Oliver’s door.

He must have been watching from the peephole, waiting for me to arrive, because as soon as I made it, the door was open and he had his hands on me again. His touch was more desperate than ever before, fingers harsh, tongue rough.

I could barely gasp for air as he gorged on my lips, overfeeding himself. I was growing more concerned for his mental health, considering it seemed like he was displacing whatever he was feeling onto me. I probably already knew what was going on- the stress of the tour, of making the next album, it was all getting to him.

He barely had any time to himself anymore, barely had any chances to breathe, to execute self care. He was overworking himself. He was just exhausted.

I felt guilty kissing him, touching him. It felt exploitive and dirty.

So, when his hands traveled down my body, up under my hoodie, to my pants, I brushed them off of me. I took a big step away from him, reaching out my own touch to keep the distance between us.

“Oliver-” I took a deep breath, trying to ground my dizzy head.

His eyes were bloodshot. He hadn’t tasted like alcohol, so I assumed he must be high. Or he had been crying. I didn’t really know which one.

Whatever exhaustion pooled in his gaze dissipated as it was replaced with worry. He took a small step towards me, palms out in a wary manner. “I’m so sorry- what is it? Are you okay, darling? What did I do?”

My jaw was a little slack, concern drowning my features and tone. “No, no- nothing! Sorry- nothing! You’re good. We’re good. I promise.”

He breathed a sigh of relief as his shoulders slumped a bit forward. “Thank fuck. I thought I hurt you or something.”

“I mean you were being a little rough, but that’s okay,” I managed a breathy chuckle.

Oliver ran hand through his hair, glancing around the room, to his feet, back to me. “Why’d you stop, then? Everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” I emphasized, “I’m more worried about you.”

Oliver sighed, loudly, posture dropping a bit more. He wiped his face as he looked away from me again. “Why?” He sounded annoyed with me.

“I’m not gonna pry, cause I know it’s not my business, but…”

“It’s not,” he cut me off.

I reared my chin back. I thought carefully, choosing my words delicately, as I crossed my arms over my chest, “I know. I know it’s not my business. I just- just want-”

“What?” He spoke impatiently.

“Just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Oliver didn’t respond. He stared at the floor beside my slippers, as though he could bore a hole with his eyes, sink into it, and slip away from this moment. I looked past his head. I didn’t want to pressure him with pervasive eye contact.

Then, after a minute or two, I heard him sniffle. I still didn’t move too much, but ran my eyes over his face. He wiped away a few tears. Oliver bit into his bottom lip, which wobbled around a bit. He didn’t want to give into the emotions overwhelming his nervous system, but he was going to have to.

I couldn’t hold myself away from him any longer. He needed connection, touch, gentleness. So, I walked right up to him and hugged him, tugging his head down into the crook of my neck. I felt his arms squeeze my entire self into him, like an anchor at his shores, calming his seas.

For the next twenty minutes, we stood there, my heart sitting just underneath his own, beating into one another. He didn’t really cry too much, probably unwilling to. I didn’t like to cry in front of others either. It was vulnerable, too vulnerable.

We just hugged each other. I caressed my fingers through his hair, hoping to soothe him, to provide solace. He just squeezed me back, tight as ever. It felt really good. I wasn’t going to pull away first, but he eventually did.

He let out one of those embarrassed laughs, wiped the tears clean off his cheeks, and moved to sit on the bed. I offered a kind smile, but still didn’t say anything. He would come to me with whatever was on his mind whenever he felt ready to.

“Sorry…about- that. Probably, uh- probably weird.”

“Not at all,” I waved him off, moving slowly towards him.

He looked up to me, his palms resting on the edge of the bed, and motioned for me to sit. I did.

“I’m just…just tired,” he shrugged.

I knew it was more than that. I knew that he harbored a lot of negative feelings towards himself, something he had confirmed for me just last week. He held himself up to a crazy standard and, of course, never met those expectations. No human being ever could.

I wouldn’t convince him of this fact, not in just one moment together. But, I could tell him one thing that he probably needed to hear. Something he’d value and treasure for longer than just a moment.

“I’m proud of you,” I spoke softly, turning my head to meet his eyes.

He didn’t say anything. He just swallowed, rubbed his lips together, thought long and hard. Then, he glanced away, brought his eyes back to mine and nodded, just once. I saw the words slot themselves into his mind, stored away for just him to hold onto. I knew he valued my opinion, so even though it wouldn’t fix his issues, it would provide some support. Support was the only way to get to recovery, to healing.

Oliver set his hand on mine, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “When I first met you, you told me you were trying to discover life this summer. To find deeper meaning. The more I get to know you, the more I disagree with that.”

“Oh?” I furrowed my brows. “And why’s that?”

“It’s just not accurate,” he shrugged, “you have so much meaning. You’re…you’re so sweet. And kind. And intentional with everything you do. You put so much goodness out with even just your gaze. I just…”

I stared up at him with, I’m sure, these big dopey eyes. Words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. “I really like you, Oliver.”

He frowned slightly as he brought a hand to my face, thumb brushing the apple of my cheek. I searched his eyes and couldn’t find the answer needed for what I had said. So, the distant smile on my face twisted upside down, worry lacing my features. Had I gone too far?

“I know, darling,” was all he said.

Moments of silence passed between us.

I knew he couldn’t give me much, but maybe now that my feelings were out there, clear as day, written in the sand, maybe it would help him feel more secure about whatever this was. Maybe he’d jump in with me. After all, I was scared, too. Hell, as of this morning I wasn’t looking for a relationship. But- we could be good together. He could be good for me. I know I would be good for him.

Maybe we could l-

“I don’t know that I communicated this to you well enough,” Oliver went on.

“It’s okay…”

Oliver glanced away, seemingly ashamed of whatever he was gonna say. “I can’t be in a relationship with you, Daisy. I just…I’m not good. I’m not ready. I don’t want to hurt you. I think you deserve better. We’re on different paths- I have a million excuses.”

I don’t know how I managed to avoid the tears because I could feel them threatening me from behind my eyes. But, I did. I put on this facade, acted out the role. Stood, nodding slowly, painting a sweet smile on my face.

“It’s okay. I understand. I’ll just…I’m gonna leave,” I headed for the door.

But, Oliver was grabbing my hand. “I don’t want you to. I know it…it’s so selfish of me, but I want you anyways. We have two more months before you have to go home- so who says we can’t just be casual, have fun for the rest of summer? I’d…I know I can’t ask that of you, but…I’d like that.”

I would hate him for this. I would hate myself for it, too.

But, having pieces of him was better than nothing.

I could push aside my feelings- fuck, I was already getting good at it.

I would be the cool girl, even if it killed me.

Even if it killed us.

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