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MAX COSTELLO

PAST
NOVEMBER 2019

Oliver's head was firmly down the toilet, choking up red liquid. Splashing directly into the bowl and coating the rim of the seat. Never in my life have I seen someone throw up so much, especially considering Oliver's small frame. There wouldn't be anything left of him.

My hand circles his back softly as I hold a bottle of water in one hand, on standby in case he begins to choke on his own vomit.

His puking activities begin to slow, now only throwing up mostly bile and water.

"You've got it," I say supportively, continuing to move my hand in slow motions across his t-shirt. "Once it's all up, we can get you clean, in bed and sleep it all off. Hmmm?"

More bile is thrown from his throat and down into the toilet water.

"Oh baby," I sigh as his body gags over and over. "Come on, you've got this."

Oliver sits up and slumps against the wall, his eyes shut but he raises his wrist to wipe the corner of his mouth. "Owww," he grunts as I shuffle forward to place the bottle of water against his lips.

"What's the matter?" I question.

"I r-ruined it," his throat cracks, brushing his hand through his hair.

I frown and move closer across the bathroom floor. "Ruined what?"

Oliver exhales a long, dramatic sigh. "Tonight," he whines. "I promised you sex, I promised you such good sex. And the world's best blowjob!"

His drunken red eyes open to take one look at me, I couldn't help but laugh. "We can have sex any time Oliver," I stoke the side of his face carefully.

He frowns deeply and shakes his head. "But when we have drunk sex, it's proper freaky," he begins to press his hands to his chest, all of a sudden feeling himself. "I say real dirty things to you, things I would never say when I'm sober!"

His slurred words couldn't stop the smile that grew on my face. "What dirty things would you have said?" I challenge with a smirk.

Oliver's green eyes flick between mine with a slight delay. "Well," he leans off the wall and points, his body swaying in the direction of the toilet. I grip his wrist and stabilise him. "Oops," he chuckles. "Anyway, I would have said how pretty your dick is."

A bright grin etches its way onto my face. So big that it hurts my cheeks.

"My dick is pretty?"

Oliver hums in agreement. "Soooo pretty!"

"Well that's nice to hear," I nod with pride. "What else?"

He bites down on his bottom lip and smiles. "I'd ride you, hold down your neck and ask if I'm yours."

"That's your good dirty talk. Huh?" The amusement is clear in my voice

Oliver narrows his eyes at me. "I can be dirtier."

"Go on then."

"I'd get down on my knees and take your cock from your pants, I'd look up at you and say, 'I want you to use me, fuck my mouth, shoot your load straight down my throat. Fuck me until I'm gagging.'" Oliver's eyes light up as he speaks.

I had to admit, my cock did twitch. I'd love that but Oliver wasn't in the right frame of mind. He probably wouldn't even remember this tomorrow.

"What do you think?" He asks when I don't respond.

"Yeah, that would be hot." I agree.

"Shall we make it a reality?" Oliver shuffles onto his knees, a little uncoordinated than he expected.

I shake my head and rest my hands on his shoulders. "No way," I breathe out.

His expression falls instantly. "Why?"

"Because you're drunk," I shake my head and cup his cheek.

"But we're together, I consent," he mumbles.

"Not happening," I say curtly.

Oliver whines and falls back onto his ass. "You're being a nice asshole."

I can't hold back my laugh. "You're drunk, you've thrown up your entire bodyweight and I know for sure you won't remember this in the morning. There is no way I'm going to take advantage of you like that."

"Ughhh," Oliver tilts his body forward and his forehead hits my chin. "Yep, nice asshole."

"Should I add that to the list of compliments too? Pretty dick, nice asshole?" My lips purse to fight back my own laughter.

Oliver pushes himself up and gives me a death glare. "That's not what I meant, I barely get to see your asshole anyway."

"I know," I nod with a grin. "Right, let's get your teeth cleaned, into bed and lots of water. Hmmm?"

"Fine," he grumbles, pulling back with a sassy eyeroll.

I grip onto his fragile body and pull him to stand, facing us against the sink. He leans forward to grab his toothbrush and I take the toothpaste, squirting it onto the bristles and watching as he places it in his mouth.

Once he begins to brush, I follow his lead and clean my own. Oliver gags a couple times and I'm on standby for leading him to the toilet, but he recovers and I guide us into his room.

I strip his shoes and his clothes until he's in nothing but his boxers, gently I put him down in the bed and roll him under the covers. "Wait," he calls out when I begin to leave the room. "Don't leave."

"I'm only going to get you some water and some ibuprofen for the morning," I breathe before Oliver settles back into the sheets.

"Okay," he grumbles. "Hurry back."

Once I have a pint of water and tablets, I make it back to his bedroom. Dimming the lights, stripping myself of my own clothes. I slide in right beside Oliver and take his hands in mine, he soon snuggles himself into my neck.

"Thank you for the best night," his words begin to slur.

I trace my fingers down his bare back. "Glad you had a good time, I did too."

"S-Sorry I'm such a mess," he sighs.

My head begins to shake. "We all get like it."

"You never do."

"I have the liver of steel."

Oliver smiles into my collarbone. "One day I will see you drunk Max, even if it kills me."

"It'll definitely kill you if you try to keep up with my drinking standards," I press a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

"Hmmm okay, then you drink to your limit and I'll drink mine. Maybe next time we need to give you a double and I get a single."

"Great plan baby," I chuckle into his head. "Go to sleep, work off that drunkenness."

He grunts.  "Fine, goodnight."

"Goodnight Oliver," I whisper. "Sleep well."

PRESENT
OCTOBER 2021

After we checked out of the hotel just past noon, we went back to the hospital to ask for a doctor's note. Anything to help get Oliver extenuating circumstances for his current work, that and the fact he physically cannot pick up a paintbrush.

If he gets a few months taken into account, he will be able to pass his final year instead of having to retake it again next year. With the evidence of his coma, his prescriptions and hospital visits, they have to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He's been through hell and back and they'd be heartless not to extend his work period.

I knew how much this meant to him and I'd do everything in my power to make sure that he graduates this academic year. I will do anything because I want to see him happy, to see him smile in that graduation gown. To move onto the next chapter of his life with his brand new degree.

Once we received the letter from the hospital, we make our way to the university. Oliver wasn't saying much but I appreciated that he was probably tired, as tedious as this chore was, it needed doing. We both knew that.

At the art faculty reception we ask for an extenuating circumstances form and I fill it out for Oliver as we sit in the foyer chairs, giving as much detail as possible in hope they'd be more lenient with Oliver's deadlines.

I could hear his stomach growl as I hand the form and the hospital letter back to the receptionist. "Want to go grab some food?" I ask as I guide us out of the building.

Oliver hums after a few moments. "Not sure how I feel about being spoon fed in public," he says dryly.

My lips frown but I nod. "I'm sure we can find a quiet café and sit in the back. Least we won't have to make the food."

"Okay," he breathes out after a few moments.

"Great," I smile before wrapping my arm around his shoulder and pulling his body into mine. "We can find somewhere quiet."

It doesn't take long to find an empty café down the road from campus, I hold the door open for Oliver and he slips through. Finding a seat at the back, away from the prying eyes of the window shoppers.

Oliver's wrist flicks open the menu and he takes a glance down at the laminated paper. I follow his actions and find my eyes floating towards the full English. I was pleased that I had kept some money in my account, enough to buy food and travel. If they had cleared me out, I would have been panicking.

But being here with Oliver, knowing he's safe makes my brokenness worth it.

We order our meals and I take one glance at Oliver, he's glancing away but I could tell things were occupying his mind. My hand slips across the wooden table and I take his bandaged hand in mine.

"I'm so sorry about what happened Oliver," my voice is quiet. Oliver keeps his eyes down and I release a tough sigh. "I never wanted you to get hurt, this was what I was trying to avoid. If I knew they would have done what they did, I would have tried to settle it. But I thought it went away."

His throat clenches as he listens to me. Then eventually he flicks his green eyes up to mine. The topic clearly triggered him. "Guess you didn't shake them off when you went to Australia." His voice catches me by surprise.

"I've sorted it now, I got them the money and told them that was it. Nothing more needs to happen, they don't need to come after you, or me. It's done, it's over now." I brush my thumb against his wrist gently.

Oliver's eyes gravitate down to my actions. "Let's hope you're right." There isn't even a glimmer of optimism in his tone. I didn't blame him, he's shit scared. Anyone would be.

"I'm sorry for getting you into this, this is what I feared," I lower my gaze. "I completely failed you Oliver and I am so sorry. I will never forgive myself for getting you into this mess."

He shifts uncomfortably and moves his hand away from mine, the coldness in my heart starts to build. I glaze over his expression but he's unreadable.

"I don't even know what's going on in my head anymore." He clenches his eyes shut like he wanted to forget. "I don't know what I want."

The back of my neck spikes with heat, and then my heart. That feeling of when you check your pocket for your phone and you think you've left it. My heart skips ten thousand beats like I had lost ten thousand phones.

I scoot closer in my seat and rest my forearms onto the table. "What do you mean with me?"

"With everything."

My eyes blink at his sudden tone. I open my mouth to speak but I wasn't sure what to say. I completely understood if he was annoyed at me, hated me. I put him in this mess, I almost got him killed.

He's confused and you could read it on his face.

I chew down on my lip as he avoids my gaze at all costs. My throat clears and I resist the urge to grip his hand again.

"You want a break from me?" The words struggle to form in my mouth.

Oliver looks up at me, glancing over my expression. After what felt like an eternity, he shakes his head slowly. "I don't want to be apart from you but what happened has terrified me and I'm so fucking scared to even sleep or do anything. I'm constantly looking over my shoulder."

Tears threaten his eyes and I had to tell myself not to touch him, not to invade him.

"What can I do Oliver?" My voice wobbles. "Tell me what I can do and I'll do it. I don't want you to be scared, I don't want you to distrust me. Fuck, I love you. Please, tell me what I can do to fix this?"

"Nothing," he shakes his head. Two tears leak from his eyes as he blinks. "Everything is just fucked."

"Fuck," I lean back and ignore the water lining my lash line. "Please don't end things with me. Please, Oliver."

He uses the back of his wrist to wipe at his damp face. "I think... I just–" he pauses to swallow his cry. "--I need some more time to think everything through."

I stare back at him, hard. I knew that I couldn't bombard him with my thoughts, feelings. He needs space, I will give him space to think. Respect his wishes before I push him away for good. It's the least I can do for him, I have to accept his wishes.

"Okay," I swipe a shaky hand through my hair. "Okay. I'll give you all the time you need. Whatever you want."

Oliver nods and looks down to the table. "Thanks," he's so quiet that I barely hear him.

As I sit across the table from his weeping eyes, my heart crumbles inside my chest as I watch him fall apart before me. I just wanted to make everything better. I wanted to protect him but maybe I've ruined that, he can't trust me because of what I allowed to happen.

Never would I forgive myself for this. Not if I lose him for good.

. . .

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Hello my loves, what did we think of this chapter?

I think it's fair that Oliver has some time away to think about what he wants, what he went through is so traumatic and I don't blame him for being severely confused.

Seeing Max broken is so painful because he really doesn't know what he can do to fix this because nothing can:((((

Hope everyone is okay! See you all on the next one, love Sav x

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