Chimney Swift
i am confusion
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TL;DR Romir somehow sleuthed out Oliver's address and that is fucking terrifying and raises several questions. Nevertheless, firefly hunting.
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tl;dr
Oliver Dreyfuss
How lonely it is, to be drowning in a place where everyone can swim
Oliver seemed quietly uninterested in the fact that Romir hadn't brought a car. The shorter boy was more than used to walking. Once they were several blocks away, he side-eyed Romir and waved him over a little closer. "I Googled sh-this. Seems... I, uh-- it's easy enough. I brought things..." He struggled with the zipper on his backpack for a moment, eventually pulling it open and drawing out a small mason jar. A series of holes were poked in the canvas lid, and the jar itself contained nothing but a wet paper towel and an apple slice. "If you want to keep any." He spoke quickly, with a syncopating cadence. Despite the distance they'd traveled from the apartment complex, he still seemed furtive and cautious, glancing over his shoulder and staying a few steps behind Romir. "Two to tsh-three days. Also--" He turned sharply to face Romir. "You can't... can't tell anyone where I live. And if you're ever there again... ever th... ever... wait outside. In the back. Always." The fact that Romir had somehow found Oliver's address on his own was still grasping at his mind. Someone else knows. At least one other person. Who knows how many, and how many they're told already. They could have told anyone by now...
Oliver didn't have much choice over where his mind went. He couldn't just decide to think about something else and make himself shed the thought. That wasn't how his brain was wired to process. He just had to let it play out and find his way back to something less nerve-wracking.
Someone knew where he lived.
Well, he knew that Winnie knew. At some point he'd told her, one day when he was in such a rough time that he gave her that information and didn't even realize. But Winnie was as good as her word, so if she said she hadn't told anyone else, then Oliver believed her in full faith.
But that still left the possibility that someone else had overheard, or followed her all the way back...
The latter was incredibly unlikely, but not impossible. Oliver never wrote anything off that could still be a possibility, even if it was highly unlikely.
It was also possible that someone in his family had told, though they wouldn't have mentioned Oliver by name. He wasn't even supposed to be out right now. He wasn't supposed to be known.
But Romir knew.
It was okay that Romir knew, as long as he didn't do anything he wasn't supposed to.
That would be bad.
Very bad.
Oliver just had to home that he'd keep his mouth shut if anyone asked.
They came to a stoplight, but Oliver slowed his pace only to look side-to-side for cars before jaywalking the street, expecting Romir to follow after. Despite how he was fearfully quiet around everyone and painstakingly cautious moving through his home, Oliver seemed to be fairly confident in breaking a very small and negligible law. "I don't want to keep any fireflies." Oliver started again, unexpectedly. Without any preamble, Oliver had found his way back to that topic and started talking again. "They won't-- won't come that clos-se to me. It's fine." Insects made Oliver incredibly nervous. So did spiders, crabs, lobsters... all arthropods. He could never accurately describe what he was feeling or what it was about them that he was afraid of, and that uncertainty scared him much more than anything else.
And yet, despite the phobia, he seemed to spend a lot of time learning about them. He could rattle off insect facts in much the same way that he could about turtles, just with much less enthusiasm.
Learning about things was how Oliver dealt with confusion and fear. It's easy to fear what one doesn't know, and that was especially true for him.
He actually seemed fairly excited about hunting fireflies. This was really the first time he'd met up with Romir in person, and he felt obliged to learn as much as he could from his joke boyfriend. Whatever Romir was interested in, Oliver would put in his time getting to know about it. Even if it was bugs.
Mutual interest-sharing was the root of Oliver's ability to communicate and befriend people. They'd listen to his interests, he'd listen to theirs. He might not have ever been the best at jokes or small talk or predicting and adapting to social situations, but he was a good listener.
And Romir was nothing if not fascinating.
There was quite literally nowhere else Oliver would rather be tonight.
code by valen t.