A/N: a bit of filler before we move back to Haruto moments and I figured I should introduce their mothers soon. :)

Ollie's POV

The sun's rays through my window woke me up none too gently the morning after the Winter formal. I hadn't closed the blinds or curtains, and it just so happened to be the only window on this side of the house that got morning rays. With sinus pressure and the pain throughout my body, I wondered if someone had managed to spike the punch, given how shitty I felt. Not that I had had a hangover, but witnessing the team and other popular kids after those parties, I could only imagine this was what it felt like.

And like most cliched-hangover-mornings, the events of last night, the emotions, and the fact that I was still in that rain-soaked suit—which was mostly dry now—only made it worse.

My eyes were crusted, my face raw and blotched from the crying. I didn't know when I had stopped crying and knocked out, but my face probably looked like I had gotten stung by a swarm of bees.

As much as I wanted to lay here the entire weekend, I needed to get out of these clothes, maybe even burn them, so it didn't remind me of what happened. I there the covers back, forcing myself to a sitting position before groaning again. I'd have to wash the beddings and probably take some supplements to prevent catching a cold from sleeping in wet clothes, but that seemed like a problem for another day.

Rubbing my eyes, I glanced around the room. My things were still on the floor; my phone on the nightstand, most likely dead. I didn't remember closing my bedroom door, but I guess I had during my stumbling mess to the bedroom. I grabbed a simple black shirt and pants before heading to the shower. With the water set to just shy of scalding, I let it pound against my back, wondering how the fuck I was supposed to go to school on Monday after that incident. I'd have to avoid both Mason and Benji; I guess sitting at the theatre or student council table wasn't all that bad, or better yet, in one of my classes.

Even though I was now fully dressed, starving, and in need of some studying for the upcoming finals week, going back to sleep sounded splendid—even though I did have way more than eight hours of sleep.

That was until I heard the microwave beep from downstairs. My heart raced; panic set in. Mom was most likely still on her business trip, and even if she was back in town, she was probably working on some case anyways. Then there was, of course, dad, but we had a restraining order in place. He wasn't even allowed in this city; he couldn't possibly have the house key or dare to come near here.

The only person who knew where our house key was hidden was Benji, but he couldn't possibly be here. And Mason would be a fool to enter my house if he managed to find the key hidden under the rock near our driveway.

I gulped before tiptoeing my way down the hall. The person downstairs moved rather quietly on the kitchen tiles, gently setting one of our bowls on the counter.

Before I made it to the final steps, I sucked in a breath, seeing the back of who it was.

"Mom?"

"Hey, kiddo." Her head whipped to the stairs, almost spilling the coffee in her mug. Her lips pursed in that poker face I never could decipher—the face of an attorney, she had called it. "You're up?"

"What are you doing here?" I shook my head. "Don't you have work?"

The corners of her lip raised in the faintest of smiles. "I managed to get the weekend off, surprisingly. I see you didn't have a great night; I figured I'd make you some breakfast."

"Thanks," I said before pulling out the seat. Mom had prepared oatmeal, toast, eggs, and bacon; a feast, really.

"Did you," she said against her mug before pausing. "Want to talk about it?"

About last night, she meant. I didn't want to, and I know she wouldn't pry, but I also didn't want to lie to her. That and well, it was nearly impossible to lie to my mother, anyways.

"Not really," I mumbled before shoveling a spoonful of oatmeal.

She nodded before taking another sip of her coffee. "Well, I know it violated your privacy by entering your room, but I noticed you were still in those clothes, and that you had been crying. I just wanted to check up on you."

Twirling the spoon in the oatmeal, I nearly laughed at that. Mom had always been like that, insisting my room was an off-limits room; even though this was her house, and she had as much right to barge in anytime. My friends had found it odd, but I appreciated it, as weird as it may sound to others. She had entered my room before multiple times, but she always made it a deal to ask first.

"I'm okay, mom. Really," I told her. "Now, anyways."

"I'm glad." She took a bite of her toast. "You had me worried."

"Sorry." I gulped before looking up at her. It had been a while that we spent breakfast together, too long.

"Don't be." She sighed. "How's school?"

"Good," I told her. If you meant academically, yeah, doing just splendid. "And work?"

"Fine, dear." She set the spoon down rather abruptly, making a clinking sound. "Are you sure everything's alright at school? Most teens wouldn't cry themselves to sleep after a dance still in their suit."

I set the spoon down, glancing down at the bowl. "It was overwhelming in there with all the lights and music. You know how I am with crowds."

I could tell by the way her lips pursed that she knew I wasn't telling her the whole truth, but I wasn't sure how I was supposed to explain it all to her without her flipping out. The last time I had told her someone had shoved me in middle school, she had contacted the school, threatened to bring the cops into it and everything, even though Benji had taken care of it on his own.

"And," I added. "Well, finals are coming up, so I probably was just feeling stressed out."

She didn't say anything, and it took everything in me to not just word vomit all the embarrassing details of last night. The downside of having an attorney like your mother was that lying was futile, even if she asked for the truth.

She didn't push the subject, didn't pry about it, even though I could feel her analyzing me from across the counter. The silence carried on as we went back to our food. Even if I had mentioned what happened with Mason or the formal itself, she hadn't known about Benji. I hadn't even tried to talk about our falling out.

"It wasn't your father, right?" She said finally. "Did he message you or try to see you?"

"What?" I tilted my head at her. "No, he didn't contact me."

"Good."

My brows furrowed. "Why, did he contact you?"

"No," she said in a tone that meant there was more to it. "Well, he's tried."

"Again?"

She scoffed. "Your father just never learns. He's tried emails, calls, texts, even called my work phone."

I shook my head at that. He was so insistent on trying to be in our lives again when he was the reason mom had to work all sorts of hours, why we were still in debt because of the stupid gambling and shady accounts he created. That, and after mom had heard the things he said to me after I came out to them, it was the fastest I had ever seen her prepare a case in my life. She had divorce papers the following day, bought boxes so he could move out, and had all the necessary paperwork ready for him to sign within a couple of days.

She cleared her throat. "Oliver, I know I haven't been the best mother and that I'm not here most of the time, but you can tell me if anything happens, okay. I might not be able to respond or be here physically, but I'll listen."

"I know."

"I'm sorry I haven't been spending as much time here," she continued, squeezing my hand in hers. "But know that I do love you. And I'll never treat you differently or awfully like that piece of shit."

I smiled at that. "I know. You're nothing like dad, and you are there for me. You always have been, especially after what he did."

"I'd never let him back here even if he managed to pay what he owed. Even if he groveled on his knees, I would never forgive him."

A smile spread across her face as we both imagined him begging for forgiveness. "I still can't believe that you would kick him out in the middle of the night."

"I still can't believe I married someone that ignorant."

"Thanks," I mumbled. "For that, by the way. I don't think I've said it enough, but thanks for—for listening to me and being there."

She sighed. "I'm your mother. That's what we're supposed to do; listen and be there for our children. Protect them, accept them, all of it. I'm not perfect, and I know I should be here, physically more."

"No, your work is important too, mom. I get it."

She shook her head, and as much as we could argue about it all day, we both knew that the bills and mortgage were too high for her to work less and less.

"Well, I was thinking, since I've finally got a couple of days off, maybe we could invite the Adams over for dinner. That is if you're up for it. I know you're probably going to need time to study, but a homemade meal is the best fuel for studying, in my opinion. I would've killed for some homemade meals during law school."

I resisted the urge to swear and immediately shut the idea down—dinner with Benji and his mom. No, I didn't want that. But our moms were friends, and if I said no, there's no doubt that mom would figure something out. If I were lucky, maybe Benji would decline, leaving me with just our mothers to deal with. His mother, Carol, I could deal with; Benji, not so much anymore.

But then again, Benji was a master at faking it; after all, he had practically faked our entire friendship; he'd probably act like we were best friends again if he showed up for dinner.

"That's okay with you? You're welcome to excuse yourself once we start yapping away so you can study." She smiled before turning to grab another serving of black coffee. "If not, we can always watch a movie together. Maybe laugh at those silly Christmas movies that always airs."

I smiled at that; it had been years since we got to enjoy those cliched movies. We often joked that she would've been a movie critic if she hadn't passed the bar exam instead. But as much as I wanted to enjoy the weekend away with my mother, I didn't want her to worry about everything going on with school. She already had enough on her plate with dad and work. It was obvious he was still making things difficult,

"We can invite them over," I told her. "And we should watch a movie later; it's been too long. I bet there are some new ones we've yet to critique."

She flashed one of those rare smiles of her. "Then I'll give them a call."