Author's Note: For the "disability" prompt for the Ghost Hunt HQ Fanworks Weekend 2020

When Oliver first heard the term 'social distancing' he thought it was a fantastic idea. Everyone would be mandated by the government to stay at least two metres away from him.

Brilliant.

He very much wanted to give a socially distant measure of appreciation for whoever came up with this idea.

But that was three weeks ago.

And three weeks of complete isolation had changed his mind.

The government had mandated that the only reasons to leave the house were for food, one piece of exercise a day and to go to work if you could not possibly work from home.

As a university researcher who taught one undergraduate course, Oliver had no reason to not work at home. He taught his classes online with a webcam and the whiteboard in his home office. He could remotely access the supercomputers to run code. He could email all of his colleagues.

To begin with, it was bliss. His brother, as a doctor, had chosen to stay with one of his fellow doctors who lived closer to the hospital to reduce chances of transmission. So Oliver had the entire flat to himself. It was peaceful. It was quiet.

He got so much work done.

For about a week. New ideas were harder to come by when you were stuck in the same space all the time. Oliver decided not to stress about it. He did not need new ideas to do good research. He could run better validation studies on his existing work.

That got him through a few more days.

He had plenty of tea of course. He had not stockpiled specifically because of the pandemic. Oh no. The flat never had less than a year's supply of tea in it. Just in case. Some people — Mai — had made fun of him for it, but who was laughing now? Hmm?

Not Oliver.

Usually, he had classical music playing as background noise. But YouTube had autoplayed onto a video with another person talking one afternoon and Oliver let it play.

It was nice to hear someone else's voice. At least, someone that was not the news reporters or politicians.

It took Oliver another few days to realise that he actually missed his brother. After this realisation came a few others, all equally as painful.

His brother was healthy. He was young. He would be fine.

And then a healthy twenty one year old died.

His brother was in contact with the ill and the infected all day every day.

What if…

But Oliver could not bring himself to think about it.

That was the point where his work really took a nosedive. Lectures were fine. They were structured. His students needed him. They were relying on him for something almost like normality.

But even they realised something was up. It was probably the 'be careful out there' at the end of the lecture stream.

One student had even emailed him and asked if he was okay.

Of course, I am fine. Thank you for your concern, he had replied.

Spoiler alert: Oliver was not fine.

Second spoiler alert: Oliver refused to admit he was not fine.

It was not like he had gone so far as to phone his mother or anything. He might have thought about it. Once.

Maybe twice.

She was also at risk… So was Martin...

NOT THINKING ABOUT THAT.

And so three weeks in, Oliver found himself staring out of the living room window at the greatly reduced traffic; police cars, ambulances, delivery vans and the few people venturing out because they absolutely had to leave the house for some reason.

A small light caught his attention. It was his phone. He had left it on the table.

Oliver picked up the phone and unlocked it.

You have 1 new message.

He clicked on it.

Mai: Hey, do you have a minute?

Of course, Mai was alone too. Masako had moved for work only a few months ago.

Oliver: Technically I am at work, but I am due a break. What do you need?

'Due a break' was a bit of a lie; he had done nothing but stare out of the window, being jealous of birds for the last half an hour.

Much to Oliver's surprise, his phone began ringing. Not just a regular phone call, either. A video call.

Mai wanted to video call with him.

A few weeks ago, he would have thought this odd, but now… He understood.

He accepted the call and Mai's pixellated face appeared on his phone. Oliver hurried to the living room and took a seat.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi," Oliver replied.

"I'm sorry for bothering you. I've just had a rough day and needed someone to talk to and…" she trailed off, unsure how to finish.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sick of being alone? And I've been clinging to every work video call that I can. I've accepted meetings for no reason other than wanting to hear peoples' voices. And this afternoon, I was on this call…"

This would be the thing that has upset her, Oliver knew.

"Go on," he prompted.

"It was supposed to be the wellbeing group call, right? And this guy made this racist joke about this whole coronavirus thing and it really pissed me off. But I was so angry that I just couldn't speak! And the whole point of the call was about mental health and wellbeing. Like…" Oliver saw a single pixelated tear run down her cheek. "Gene is out there every day trying to help people… And this stupid white man is making a stupid racist joke. I can't stand it!"

"There will always be stupid people in this world, Mai."

"I know that!" she snapped, then softened. "I'm sorry. I know. I'm… I'm struggling."

"I can tell," Oliver said. "You got so desperate as to call me."

"I missed you."

The bluntness of her statement shocked Oliver a little.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I miss hanging out with everyone. I miss just normal human interaction. I hate that I go to the supermarket to buy food and I'm constantly avoiding people. I found myself scowling at people who got too close."

"Well, social shaming is a good way of—"

"I know, Oliver, I know. Psychology degree, remember… I just... I went for a walk the other day, just around the park. And I served around a couple and then had a crisis over whether or not that was racist because they were black. Like normally, that would be racist, right?"

"But you were serving around everyone else?"

"Of course! But still, it felt so wrong."

Oliver sighed.

"You really have been alone too long, you're overthinking."

"Yeah, tell me about it…" Mai forced a laugh and wiped her eyes. "How are you holding up? Did the change in routine screw you over?"

"Not as much as I expected, if I'm honest. I adapted to the new routine quite well. It's… It's like you said. Everything is not as it should be, that's been bothering me more. I almost called my mother the other day."

"Why didn't you? I'm sure she'd like to hear from you, especially given what Gene's up to…"

"Because she'll be all… All Luella about it. And…" Oliver struggled for words. "Hearing her talk about it will make it more real."

"Gene's going to be fine, you know?" Mai said. "He's healthy and—"

"So were those other people his age. Healthy with no underlying conditions. They still died."

"Oliver…"

"You just don't know that he's going to be fine."

Oliver looked away from the phone, breathing heavily.

"I… I have to believe he's going to be okay," Mai said softly. "I have to…"

Oliver heard her voice break. He understood her anguish. He felt it himself. Though he could not put it into words. 'Believe' was so intangible.

"There," Oliver said stiffly. "I've made you cry over something you're being over-emotional about. Just like normal."

"You jerk," Mai said, laughing in spite of herself. She wiped away more tears.

"I thought you said you missed me."

"I did. I'm reassessing that though."

Oliver smirked.

"Oh, that reminds me," Mai suddenly perked up. "You know the first hour of the supermarket opening times is supposed to be for old people? It's for disabled people too. So you can take advantage of that. It's a lot emptier, so a lot less stressful."

"Mai, that time is for people with real disabilities, not people like me—"

"Don't start with that crap," Mai interrupted. "I won't hear it. You have every much right to use that time as anyone in a wheelchair or anything else. Don't be a butthead about it. Society is helping you for once. Let them."

"Fine. I'll think about it."

"Good," Mai stated.

There was an awkward pause.

"You know, a part of me wishes we'd banded together and all isolated together…"

"You've been reading too much fanfiction," Oliver said. "I know how those things end."

Mai's mouth fell open.

"I have no idea what you mean! I just meant so we weren't lonely!"

"Oh really?" Oliver asked. "So no… What was that meme thing? 'They were roommates' or whatever? There was a quarantine version, or something?"

"What do you think is going to happen?!" Mai asked, mouth still gaping. "It's not like you've only got one bed to share at your place!"

"So you've been thinking about sharing a bed with me? That's very forward of you..."

"No!" Mai covered her face with her hands. "I regret calling you."

"Really?"

"No."

"Good."

"Could I call you again?" Mai asked hesitantly.

"Hmm, let me check my very busy schedule," Oliver said. He play-acted checking his calendar. "Yes, I suppose I could squeeze you in somewhere."

Mai smiled.

"Thanks, Oliver."

"We can continue talking now, if you want? I have nothing pressing to do."

"I mean, you could call your mother," Mai teased.

"I could, but I also value my sanity."

Mai rolled her eyes.

"How's work been?" she asked.

"Fine. I managed to do about a months worth of work in the first week. No distractions allowed me to focus."

"And lectures?"

"Oh, lecturing is much better. I can mute the students that annoy me."

"Oliver!"

"What? It allows me to focus on actually teaching."

"You can't just mute students that annoy you."

"I can. And I do."

Mai facepalmed.

"How is your work?" Oliver asked, knowing he ought to reciprocate the question.

"Fine, I guess. I don't feel I've been doing as much from home. Everything seems to take longer."

"I've read that is quite common."

"Yeah, doesn't make it any less frustrating though," Mai mumbled. "Eugh, enough of work. I've been baking."

"You and the rest of the country."

"Cooking is the only hobby that I feel up to doing," Mai muttered. "And I like cake."

Oliver opened his mouth to snap out a retort, but he stopped himself as Mai's words sunk in.

"I…" he began tentatively. "I have also not felt up to much. I would normally read in the evenings but I've been struggling to focus."

"It's normal, we're going through a traumatic event…"

"Normal, but not any less frustrating," Oliver said, throwing Mai's words back at her.

"Very true," she said with a reluctant smile. "Fuck, someone from work is calling me. Okay, I have to take this. But we can talk again soon, yeah?"

"Of course, let me know when you're available and I will make time."

"In your busy schedule of sitting at home being a brooding genius?"

"Well yes, but I must make time for the plebs at some point."

"Oi!"

"You'll miss your call."

"Talk soon, Oliver. Thank you."

Mai hung up before Oliver could reply, so he let his gratitude fade away unheard. He put his phone down on the sofa and sat back, closing his eyes as he did so.

He felt better for the conversation with Mai.

He could not explain why; it had been no different from any other conversation he had had with her really. They had almost flirted. She berated him. He teased her…

Perhaps it was the familiar-ness of it. The comfort of familiarity.

After a few deep breaths, Oliver stood up, a slight smile on his lips and he returned to his desk. There was only another hour or so left of the workday. He would finish up replying to some emails and call it a day.

And maybe, maybe he would call his mother. Just this once.