It’s all I’ve tried to do since he came back. Repeatedly, I stamp down on my impatient urges and my own neediness, and I give him time while still being there, ready for him.
The semester starts and Oliver gets quieter, more thoughtful, and for a while I simply chalk it up to him being back at the university. I am dealing with my own ennui, after all. Having all my evenings free isn’t something that I’ve ever dealt with in Darrow, and it’s strange to suddenly have so much unscheduled time. I miss Keynote sometimes, but I know that I made the right choice. Besides, I know that I’m welcome to pop in any time, and they’ll always make space for me there.
Eventually, I get the sense that whatever is troubling Oliver goes beyond simply starting up school again. He doesn’t seem upset, really, so I try to give him space to work through it. I give him time, but I am getting close to asking him about it.
After dinner, Oliver brings our tea and pastries and I am distracted immediately by a sticky bun, tearing it apart and licking my fingers in a way that Mafalda would have smacked my hand for.
“How did you know that I was craving one of these?” I ask him, cheeks hollowing around the tip of my thumb to clean it before reaching for my tea.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2023-09-26 05:57 am (UTC)It’s all I’ve tried to do since he came back. Repeatedly, I stamp down on my impatient urges and my own neediness, and I give him time while still being there, ready for him.
The semester starts and Oliver gets quieter, more thoughtful, and for a while I simply chalk it up to him being back at the university. I am dealing with my own ennui, after all. Having all my evenings free isn’t something that I’ve ever dealt with in Darrow, and it’s strange to suddenly have so much unscheduled time. I miss Keynote sometimes, but I know that I made the right choice. Besides, I know that I’m welcome to pop in any time, and they’ll always make space for me there.
Eventually, I get the sense that whatever is troubling Oliver goes beyond simply starting up school again. He doesn’t seem upset, really, so I try to give him space to work through it. I give him time, but I am getting close to asking him about it.
After dinner, Oliver brings our tea and pastries and I am distracted immediately by a sticky bun, tearing it apart and licking my fingers in a way that Mafalda would have smacked my hand for.
“How did you know that I was craving one of these?” I ask him, cheeks hollowing around the tip of my thumb to clean it before reaching for my tea.