I’d decided.

After pushing the boundaries of Oliver’s temper, there was no way I could continue living on.

Continuing to sit beside him, be his desk neighbor, after all I’d said, was a surefire way to death, and I wasn’t going to idle by and let that happen! Before I turned into his next victim full force, I was going to ask — no, beg — for a change to our seating arrangement. 

I was terrified of Oliver! 

He’d totally ruined my shirt by pulling me from its collar, and he had even lifted his fist right at me. That he hadn’t punched me then and there was a miracle, to say the least.

Because he didn’t want to get caught fighting on school premises? Or because he waited for an even better opportunity to knock all my teeth out? Or was it more fun to him, perhaps, to watch me tremble in fear, wondering when it would finally happen? 

Determined, I stomped into our classroom, followed by Matt whom I hadn’t told anything about the troubles I had, and approached our teacher, ready to beg on my knees for a change to my seat. Usually, the seating arrangement wasn’t supposed to change during the year, but given my situation, I was sure they would make an exception for me. 

“Mrs Fletcher—“ What I saw disrupted my voice, and I stumbled forward, gulping all the harder. 

Why did I try so hard to convince myself of that bad-boy-image he had, of those rumors I’d heard, when he proved time and time again that it wasn’t him? Sure, he was aggressive. Sure, he frowned and glared at me every chance he got. But he was quiet, and I’m sure he simply tried to survive this year without failing again.

We all had our own troubles, after all. Oliver wasn’t any different, I was sure. 

The Oliver I saw right now was nothing like the Oliver of his rumors. There he sat, hugging his pencil case, his gaze out of the window as he watched the morning birds chirp, and the rainy clouds cover the sky. A peaceful glimmer, his eyes carried, as he was lost in thought. Every now and then, he’d chew on his lower lip, his gaze flickering about. As if he was nervous. 

Beside him, on my side of the table, a bag of gummy bears awaited their owner. A yellow sticky note was glued to the front of the bag, something written atop it, and my heart jumped a little higher. Confused, curious, anxious. I’d long forgotten the endeavor I had decided on this very morning, and all the sudden, I wanted to continue sitting beside him. 

“Finn?”

Right. My teacher. 

“Oh, it’s nothing, Mrs Fletcher,” I stuttered. “I had a question about the analysis we should write, but I think I got it.” I rushed over to my desk, and saw Oliver’s eyes move towards me, only for his body to flinch and turn further towards the window. 

He saw me, but pretended he didn’t. In response, he even lifted the hood of his sweater, hiding himself within it. 

“What’s this…?” I asked as I sat down beside him, the bag of gummy bears rustling as I grabbed them. The sticky note atop it made my heart jitter, my cheeks flush, and I couldn’t believe what it was I read just now. 

In wobbly handwriting, that one word stared right at me. A giggle escaped me — I couldn’t help it, as I blushed, to chuckle and look over at Oliver, who continued to hide beneath his hoodie. 

“Just take it,” he buzzed. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.” All the sudden, Oliver wasn’t scary at all. He was clumsy, awkward, shy, cute.

I couldn’t help but lean in. “You’re apologizing? To me?”

When Oliver heard my voice too close to his ear, he flinched and slithered further away from me. “If you don’t want it, then—”

I giggled. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just teasing you. I didn’t think you’d actually apologize.” 

Oliver grumbled in response, still hiding from me. With a grin, I observed him hunch over, hug his pencil case, and my smile grew and grew and grew as I stared at the sticky note he’d written for me. Just one word, and yet, it was so powerful in lifting my mood. 

Already, I opened the bag of gummy bears. I loved them too much to wait any longer. Sure, it was early in the morning, but … whatever. 

Even as class began, Oliver continued to wear his hood and hide himself from me, and everyone else. He opened his notes, his book, barely participated in class, until I nudged him. 

He jerked backwards as if I’d slapped him. Too surprised, his eyes widened and stared right at me, now, as I pointed my bag of gummy bears at him. 

“Want some?” I asked, already stuffing myself with three more. 

His gaze flickered up and down between my eyes and the snack I offered. Too perplexed to understand, he blinked multiple times, his hood beginning to slip off his head, revealing red ears and uncombed, short hair. 

Ever so gently, I smiled at him, only for him to avoid eye contact completely, and finally accept my offer. With cautious fingers, he reached for the gummy bears, grasping a single one with his big hand. One pineapple-flavored gummy is all he took, all he chewed on, enough to satisfy him. 

Once again, I couldn’t help but chuckle. 

I didn’t take long for his mood to drop, though, when Mrs Fletcher wanted to see the homework we had had. All color disappeared from his face, and he rushed to grab his workbook and realize he had completely forgotten. 

Why did I decide to help him? I didn’t know. Because he’d brought me my most beloved snack? Hell, who knew. But I opened my own workbook, nudged him once more. 

“I know how to do it,” he hissed, but this time, I wasn’t scared of it at all. 

“You’ll be faster copying. Hurry up, before she sees.” 

Oliver’s eyes rushed across my face as he gulped, and finally, he gave in, and copied the few notes of homework he’d forgotten. 

Just in time for Mrs Fletcher to arrive at our table, he finished, which Mrs Fletcher commented with a surprised and rather confused look, as if she didn’t think he would have done it at all. She said nothing, though, and we got away with the quick scribbles he’d done. 

For once, there was no need to be on edge during school hours, with Oliver sitting beside me, as he was much calmer, much nicer, but as avoidant as ever. He’d apologized, without much detail or further explanation, and since then, we hadn’t made much progress. 

Until school ended, that is, and I rushed over to Matt to walk home with him. In a group of friends, we talked, and I explained them a few things they asked me about math, only for my friends to turn quiet, and stare at something hidden behind me.

“What is it?” I asked, only to turn around and flinch so hard, my heart could have stopped at any moment. A giant stood right behind me, his chest filling my vision, backpack dangling off one shoulder, awaiting for me to notice him. 

“Y-You! Oliver, you can’t just sneak up on me like that!” Why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he nudge me, ask for my attention, instead of standing behind me and waiting so ominously? 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. That word, again. Why did I find it so cute, coming out of his mouth like that? 

Oliver’s fingers fiddled with his phone as he awkwardly stood there, clearing his throat, only to press that very phone into my direction. 

“Your number,” he said in a quiet, raspy tone. “Can I have it?”

“Huh?” I chuckled awkwardly, took his phone into my hand, and stared at it. The display was cracked in more than three places, long scratches running along the screen. He had no phone case, and even his camera was shattered. 

“Aren’t you in our group chat?”

Oliver stared, blinking at me as if this was the first he heard of such a chat, and I felt partly responsible. I should have invited him at the start of the year, but he’d been too scary to do so. 

“You should have asked someone to invite you,” I whispered, and began typing in my phone number for him.

“You said no one liked me.” Like a slap in the face, his words hit me, and I couldn’t help but turn bright red as I regretted ever having said those words. Why did he have to remind me of my explosion the other day? Even Matt beside me gasped, as if he couldn’t believe I’d dare to say such a thing. 

“I-I’m sorry. That was, um—” I had no way to defend myself. Instead, my fingers rushed across his screen and pressed his phone back against his chest, my number saved as a new contact within. “Here you go. I’ll invite you to the group chat later, too.” 

Oliver stared at his phone. “Okay. Thanks.” 

Dragging Matt with me, I decided to flee.

“What the hell was that?” he asked me. “He’s being so weird.” 

“I—I kind of told him off the other day, and I thought he’d beat me up, but now it’s the complete opposite,” I mumbled, cheeks bright red.

“Maybe it’s his first time someone stands up to him. Was he bullying you, Finn? What was going on?” 

“No, I just … I don’t know. I thought he hated me for some reason, so I got angry. I was tired of being glared at like that all the time.” 

On the way home, Oliver’s messages reached me. 

[16:09: Oliver: thanks for the help in English]

[16:09: Oliver: sorry for being a dick]

[16:09: Oliver: I don’t hate you]

How talkative he was through text surprised me. As if it was a completely different person. I giggled, though I didn’t know how to respond, and his messages made me happy. I guess I had nothing worry about, and Oliver, despite his rumors, was rather shy than anything else.