Seeking Solace

It was just before 6 AM when Oliver was woken by frantic, incessant knocking on the door of his apartment. He groaned, kicked off his sheets and shuffled over to the door wondering who the hell would be there so early. He was only more confused though, when he looked through the peephole and made out a figure that looked like Connor Walsh. It had been weeks since he'd thrown Connor out and he hadn't heard from him since.

He took a deep breath, "You can do this," he told himself internally. Then he pulled his door open and put on his best tough-guy face. "What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to sound as indifferent as possible.

"I-I was in the neighbourhood,"

"It's 6 AM" Oliver countered, coolly.

"Well, the early bird gets the worm, right?" Connor chuckled a dark kind of chuckle. He looked dishevelled and nervous. His hair was falling around his forehead in greasy streaks, he kept shifting anxiously from one foot to the other and his eyes were wild. He'd never seen Connor like this before, he was always so put together, with every single hair in place and his cocky swagger up like a wall of defence all around him.

"Are you on something?"

"No. I wish."

He noticed the smell of burning in the air and realised it must've been coming from Connor, "God you smell, what is that? Smoke?" He didn't really care why Connor smelled of smoke, he just didn't know what else to say. Clearly something was up, but Oliver wasn't sure if he wanted to ask what it was, wasn't sure if he wanted to let himself care… wasn't sure if he could handle caring again.

"I screwed up, Oliver" his voice was low and was filled with fear. And with those four words, Oliver knew he still cared. He thought they were probably the most honest words Connor had said to him, they were pure, with no thought behind them, no filter to make them sound suave or sexy like they usually had. Those words were straight from his heart and Oliver could only stare in wonder and confusion. "I screwed up so bad… I scr- I screwed up." Connor repeated the words over and over, sobbing, pacing as if not knowing what to do with himself. He fumbled for support from the wall beside the door of Oliver's flat and slid down it to floor gasping for breaths between his sobs.

Oliver's gaze just followed his movements, fixated on him, confused and worried. He bent down and placed a single hand on Connor's shoulder. He didn't know why, he didn't know what comfort it would offer, or even if he wanted to comfort Connor after how things had ended between them.

Connor pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself defensively, now a wreck in tears. He'd always had to do that, defend himself, there'd never been anybody else's arms to fall into, but today there were.

Oliver couldn't stand this. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew he wanted to stop it and take this pain away and make it better - and a part of him hated himself for still caring. He grabbed both of Connor's arms and began pulling him up, "Get up," he instructed, and it came out more forcefully than he'd intended, his frustration with himself coming out in his words. "Please," he added.

Connor lifted himself up off the floor, attempting to pull himself together by trying to steady his breathing. Then Oliver hugged him, and a part of him felt like everything was better, like he was home.