Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Oliver let Miles’s words sink in. Let them grow roots inside of him.
Chance put his hand over Oliver’s and squeezed. Miles leaned over and kissed his forehead. Both of them offering support.
Oliver’s pulse echoed with a loud thump in his ear. His chest got heavy with the weight of the truth Miles had just spoken. The truth he’d likely known but wouldn’t admit to himself.
Miles was right. Oliver knew he was right. Maybe part of him had already started to resent Matt, which was why he’d unleashed the other night and said all the things he did.
And Matt…he was lost beyond what Oliver had known before this visit. Until Matt faced those things, he would never be able to fully give himself to anyone. He would never truly be happy.
“Wow…that was some deep shit, Miles. I seriously just had a come to Jesus moment,” Chance said and as much as Oliver didn’t feel it, as much as he felt like his whole universe had just altered, he couldn’t help but laugh.
Like always, Chance said exactly what needed to be said to break the tension.
The subject was dropped after that and they all knew it. There was nothing else to say. Oliver knew what he had to do.
From there, Chance turned on one of their favorite episodes of Queer as Folk. They watched it together, Oliver only half into it. You knew shit was serious when his favorite show couldn’t help.
Later that night, when he was alone in his house, he lay in bed, his sheets still smelling like Matt because he hadn’t washed them. The lights were out, the glow of his phone the only thing illuminating the room.
And he dialed.
He wasn’t surprised when Matt didn’t answer. He could hold a grudge like no one else, especially when he was hurt. Oliver had hurt Matt much like Matt had hurt Oliver.
The second the voicemail beeped for him to leave his message, he spoke. “Hey, Matty. I just…” Oliver closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. “I just called to tell you good-bye. It’s about time I did that, huh? I’m not telling you good-bye when it comes to our friendship, but you know that. I’ll always be your friend, but that other shit? Loving you and wanting you and waiting for you…I have to let that go. I have to move on. It’s better for me…and better for you too. You’re right. I would have always tried to be your savior, your hero but the truth is, you have to be your own hero. You’ll get there. I know you will. Take care of yourself.” And then he hung up and whispered, “Take care of yourself, Matty,” before he rolled over and tried like hell to go to sleep.
*
Good-bye.
Oliver was finally telling him good-bye.
It was likely something he should have done a long time ago but still, even knowing that he couldn’t believe the words. No, he knew Oliver was serious. Oliver didn’t speak unless he was sure of what he was saying but…how did they come to this?
Matt lay in bed and listened to Oliver’s voicemail for the third time before he dropped the phone. The message of course, didn’t change…no matter how much he wished it could.
Good-bye.
Take care of yourself.
You’ll get there.
Those statements wrestled with things Oliver had said to him during their fight. He knew that nearly every single word Oliver had spoken was true. Matt was fucking up. He’d always been fucking up. He hated his life and everything he stood for—and had for too damn long—yet he didn’t do anything about it.
He just kept forging forward and shoving everything else to the side.
Matt looked around the room he’d been sleeping in—the spare room in his and Parker’s apartment. The sun beat through the window. It was around noon and he hadn’t been out of bed yet. He wore a pair of white underwear and a button-up shirt left open because he’d planned to go out with Parker last night but had changed his mind and then didn’t have the will to undress completely.
Ollie had actually told him good-bye, and Matt couldn’t blame him for it.
“Get your ass up,” Matt mumbled to himself. His mouth was dry, and he needed coffee something fierce.
Matt climbed out of the bed, brushed his teeth and then made his way into the living room.
Parker was at the door, in his underwear, kissing good-bye whomever it was that he’d brought home last night.
As Matt started to make the coffee, Parker closed the door, walked over and said, “You look like shit. Somehow, I have a feeling you didn’t look that bad when we broke up. You’ve always been in love with your LA boy; have you figured that out yet?”
Yes…yes, he had. “I’m not in the mood.” He waited for the coffee to brew, inhaling the scent and hoping it helped.