Too Close to Leave
I shouldn't have stayed.
I knew that the moment I stepped inside.
And yet
—
I didn't leave.
—
"Come in," Oliver said, his voice calm, like nothing was out of place.
Like this was normal.
—
I hesitated near the doorway.
"I was just about to go," I said quietly.
—
He smiled.
Not surprised.
Not even questioning it.
Just… smiling.
—
"You just got here," he replied.
"That would be rude, wouldn't it?"
—
I didn't answer.
—
Because somehow
—
he was already right.
—
Or at least
—
he made it feel that way.
—
"Sit," he added, turning toward the dining room without waiting for me.
—
And I followed.
—
I don't know why I always do that.
—
The table was already set.
Two plates.
Two glasses.
—
Like he knew I would stay.
—
Like I was never really given a choice.
—
"I and mom made something simple," Oliver said, placing the food down in front of me.
His movements were calm.
Controlled.
Too controlled.
—
"Thank you," I murmured.
—
We started eating.
—
At first, it felt… normal.
—
Too normal.
—
"So," he said after a moment, resting his elbow lightly on the table, his gaze fixed on me, "how have you been?"
—
"I'm fine."
—
"You always say that."
—
I looked down at my plate.
"…I am."
— He hummed softly.
Like he didn't believe me.
—
"Classes going well?"
—
"Yes."
—
"Friends?"
—
I hesitated.
Just for a second.
—
He noticed.
Of course he did.
—
"Hmm," he said, tilting his head slightly.
"You've been… busy lately."
—
My chest tightened.
—
"I guess," I said.
—
His eyes didn't leave my face.
Not once.
—
It made it hard to breathe.
—
Dinner ended slower than it should have.
Every question felt like it meant something more.
Every silence felt heavier.
—
And when I finally stood up
—
"I should go
—
" — "Stay."
—
The word was soft.
But it wasn't a suggestion.
—
I froze.
—
"Dessert," he added, like that explained everything.
"Let's go to the living room."
—
I didn't want to.
—
I didn't say that.
—
I just nodded.
—
The living room felt darker.
Quieter.
—
Too quiet.
—
I sat at the edge of the couch, my hands resting in my lap, fingers slightly curled.
—
Oliver sat beside me.
Not far.
Not close enough to question.
—
Just
—
close enough.
—
"You've grown," he said casually.
—
I didn't respond.
—
His hand brushed against my sleeve.
—
Light.
Almost accidental.
—
But it lingered.
—
My shoulders tensed.
—
"You're always so tense," he murmured.
—
"I'm not," I said quickly.
Too quickly.
—
He smiled again.
That same calm smile.
—
"You are," he said softly.
"You just don't notice it."
—
His fingers moved slightly.
Not enough to be obvious.
—
But enough that I noticed.
—
My breath felt uneven.
—
"I should really go," I said again, quieter this time.
—
"Why are you in such a hurry?" he asked.
—
I didn't have an answer.
—
Or maybe I did
—
—
I just couldn't say it.
—
His gaze shifted slightly.
Studying me.
—
"…There's someone," he said.
—
My heart stopped.
—
"Isn't there?"
—
I looked away.
—
That was enough.
—
"It's him," Oliver continued, his voice still calm.
"The one you've been spending time with."
—
My hands tightened in my lap.
—
He leaned closer.
—
Too close.
—
"What was his name again…" he murmured.
—
I didn't answer.
—
"…Jackson?"
—
My breath caught.
—
He noticed.
—
Of course he did.
—
A quiet pause followed.
—
And then
—
—
something changed.
—
Not in his voice.
—
But in his eyes.
—
Something sharper.
Darker.
—
Jealousy.
—
He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering just enough that it felt like it was only meant for me.
—
"Be careful," he whispered near my ear.
—
My body went still.
—
"He won't understand you the way I do."
—
A pause.
—
His voice softened again
—
almost gentle.
—
"He'll leave."
—
My chest tightened.
—
"And when he does…"
—
Another pause.
—
"…you'll come back anyway."
—
I couldn't move.
—
Couldn't speak.
—
Because a small part of me
—
—
hated how certain he sounded.
—
And a smaller part
—
—
was afraid he might be right.
—
"I'm leaving," I said, finally finding my voice.
—
This time
—
I stood up.
—
And I didn't wait for him to answer.
—
But even as I walked toward the door
—
—
I could still feel it.
—
His gaze.
—
Following me.
—
Like I had never really left at all.