[ Love Poems by Rudy Fransisco]

Thank you guys for not being rude about no update, here's the 'reward'

I PULLED A FRANK OCEAN ON YOU GUYS AND I AM SO SORRY.

THE REASON I'VE BEEN MISSING: I'VE BEEN TWEAKING THE ENDING SO MUCH AND UGH, I FINALLY GOT IT WHERE I WANT IT THEN IT GOT DELETED LIKE TWICE AND UGH (THERE'S THIS CHAP, A NEXT ONE AND THEN AN EPILOGUE [no sequel, sorry but it has been replaced with a spinoff story that i will have you vote for at the end of this chapter])

| 31.| fornication and forgiveness

I was sitting in Biology, bored out of my fucking mind and stressing over my boyfriend's mental breakdown when I'd heard rumors. Of course, I knew that I'd have to go talk to Oliver but I also know that my mother would kill me for skipping the rest of the day -especially since I'd had three tests- I prolonged seeing him until the end of the day and although it sucked, I knew he'd be okay without me.

Tapping my pencil on my binder, I closed my eyes, trying to rid my mind of how bad I fucked up but nothing would stop the replay of his words in my head.

Loved. He loved me, past tense, I'd broken his heart and I was a bitch for that.

That was only confirmed when I'd heard people talking about what had happened all through the rest of the day, the main rumor circulating having to do with Oliver hitting me. Everyone that saw our argument knew that he didn't but there were also people in class who had no idea what had happened and every time I heard something, it was a variation of the same thing. Oliver was crazy, Oliver went violent and hit Phoenix, Oliver hit me.

But what I heard in my bio class was different. After homework was passed out, my yes her had busied herself with leaving the classroom to talk to another teacher across the hall, assuming that we were mature enough to handle no supervision. How wrong she was.

I felt eyes on me as I pulled my phone out my pocket and checked for messages, twelve new ones but them all being friends and people I associated with... asking about the fight.

Not Oliver.

Putting my phone back in my pocket, I groaned almost inaudibly and closed my binder before shoving it in my bookbag and sifting around for my headphones. I was gonna listen to a few new songs to distract myself from thinking, Oliver had sent me his favorite playlist a few days before and I hadn't had a chance to listen.

That was until I'd heard Jacie Morgan from three rows over, gabbing to some friends.

She'd flicked her long brown hair over her shoulder with manicured fingernails, expensive looking watch shining in the light and when I was about to roll my eyes and get back to what I was doing, she'd turned towards me. I was going to ignore her, take the high road when she smirked.

"Even with a downgrade, he couldn't hold onto a girl, huh?" Licking her matte brown lips, she flashed me a pearly white smile that was filled with malice, "shouldn't have gotten involved with a freak."

Rollin my eyes, I scoffed, the sound in the room quieting down and I was done with her. She didn't deserve a response. When it came to me and Oliver, I never really gave much thought to rumors, I never really cared what people thought and neither did he so naturally, I ignored his ex girlfriend. Looking for my headphones, I wasn't going to give her any attention until she spoke up again.

"They should've locked him up for good the first time after he killed that kid." That kid. Oliver had told me about his late cellmate, Charlie. The kid was only fourteen, Jacie had no business talking about it, wasn't any of her business. Breathing in sharply, my throat had almost closed up.

Then, without thinking, I fired back quick. "Don't bring that up." It was so out of line for her to talk about that, "You know he didn't do that, Jacie. You, of all people, know that Oliver's not crazy, you're just mad he dumped your sorry ass."

"Didn't he just dump you?"

"Context, babe." I bit back, happy she was off the topic and back on me. It was too heavy of a subject for her to use it in a quip against my relationship with Oliver. "He's upset about something and he has a reason, we are in a relationship though, we do love each other."

"It's sad you're so pretty since you want my life." I remind.

"I want your life?" She laughs.

"You've slept with all my exes, all my friends' exes. And you assume that I am beneath you in conversation, which is a projection of your own personal insecurities."

"Excuse me?"

"If you want to be me, say that. If you have a vendetta against me because you still like Oliver, that is also not my problem. Do not throw stones from a glass house."

Leaning back in my seat, I crossed my arms and help out a hand, looking over the manicure I'd recently gotten with my mom, "I feel like in another world, I probably like you."

She furrowed her perfectly arched brows. Jacie Morgan was pretty, I had to admit that but she was a horrible person. "Fuck you."

Laughing that off, I realized she didn't have a comeback.

"You lost." I mouth.

Smirking at her dropped jaw, I turned back around in my seat and popped in my headphones.

⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄

"Oliver." His mother had let me in after school.

Instead of walking home, I'd bypassed my house and headed to his. Apparently his mother liked me enough because as soon as she'd let me in, I'd been enveloped in a hug, attempting to ignore the look in Eli's face as he pushed further into the couch.

His hand was clenched around 'Pride and Prejudice' his Pre-Calc book siting on the table and I tried not to pay attention to the contrast of his ripped band-shirt that showcased The Ramones and the advanced work of literature he was reading. I'd forgotten Elliot was smart -as shitty as that may sound- being told he was in Junior Lit but now seeing the math he was in, I was happy for him.

But I could tell he was definitely not happy to see me.

He'd been seething and I had a feeling Oliver wasn't doing too well. That was when I'd carried myself down the hall, as fast as I could to see my boyfriend on the floor, a million holes in the wall and his room a wreck.

He'd stood as soon as he'd seen me, shuffling back and occupying himself with the CD spindle on his bedside table. Oliver's room, although scattered with mismatch and miscellaneous materials, was oddly music-y. The walls were normally littered with posters and band-tees and green paint but now, I could see the white underneath with all the chipping from the punches and all his things laid on the floor. A few of the records, that were originally tacked on the wall, were laying broken on the ground although his dark-green Crosley record player was sitting pretty beside his CDs and I knew that he'd never go that far to destroy it.

Accidentally stepping on a Green Day poster, I stared at all the destruction. His Psychology book was on the ground, open with pages ripped, right where he'd say before.

"I don't want to talk about it, Emerson." I hadn't noticed him again until he'd spoken up, his breath on my neck and voice shaky as I faced the destruction. I felt his fingertips graze my hands, small sting at the contact and I briefly sank back into him, hoping he'd wrap his arms around me and let me explain.

But he didn't... He simply sighed before he ripped back as if he wasn't supposed to be there. Closing my eyes, I attempting to ignore the hurt in my chest at the pain in his voice.

He didn't want to talk about it but we needed to and I tried to make that clear when I'd turned around at a safe distance so my feelings wouldn't be hurt if he stepped back.

"We have to talk about it." Keeping my eyes on his, I attempted to not look down at the damage on his fists or the rigidness in his body. Or the fact that he was shirtless... No, Emerson, nope; he's upset with you so now's not the time to admired his upper body... Or the concave of his skin, or the dents in between his abs that has lessened to a degree lately. Or his eyes-

"Get out," that snapped me out of it, my eyes snapping down to my feet as he spoke, softly but harshly. Continuing in a smaller tone as if to not hurt my feelings, he whispered but kept his distance, not wanting to get too close and I could feel him pulling his walls up again just how he'd done on our first encounter, "please get out." It felt way too dramatic for what it was worth but with what I was feeling, I couldn't imagine what he was feeling so I forced myself to quiet about how unnecessary this all was.

He was hurt and I couldn't be insensitive now.

"No." I wouldn't do this to him, I wouldn't save him again especially seeing the damage he'd done to his room. He was getting better, he didn't relapse as harshly and I could see it in him. I needed to be by his side, help him through and even if we didn't work out, he'd be safe. He'd love himself as much as he claimed to love me, "No, because last time some shit happened between us, I walked away I'm not doing that again. I care too much about you."

"Is that why you get so uncomfortable when I tell you that I love you?" By now, he was just looking for answers that I couldn't provide. His hands clenched around the bandages they were in, my eyes betraying my mind and flickering down before quickly averting back to his face, and I couldn't focus on anything else besides the small amount of blood dotting the gauze. His voice was empty, eyes trying to dissect the situation at a visual point of view and accusations being thrown. "Do you feel bad for me?"

Was he asking if the reason I was with him was because I felt sorry for him? "No." But I could see that he was convincing himself that I was pity dating him and I could only try and tell him differently. I was complete shit at treating him how he needed to be treated, I was also shit at recognizing my own feelings but I wanted to get better at it, "It's not like that, okay? I just- I don't feel the same way yet. Or maybe I do... I don't know, I don't wanna say it and not mean it."

Rolling his eyes, Oliver scoffed and I realized the situation was bigger than me, it was bigger than us. "You won't mean it... Why would you ever mean it?" He didn't think he was worth being loved and I didn't really accomplish proving otherwise, "I'm dangerous. I'm a fucking psychopath," Oliver muttered as his face stayed empty and cold. His ear piercings were gleaming as were his grey-green eyes.

"You're not."

I simply grimaced before smiling at him, flicking his nose, and said something that I knew would piss him off. He wanted me to believe that, I was gonna give him what he wanted.

Mentally rolling my eyes, I acted completely out of character, as if I were one of those girls who stayed in toxic situations... Oliver wasn't toxic.

"And I still like you." He looked down as if he wasn't prepared for that answer and something in his mind wasn't adding up. As it shouldn't... "Is that what you want me to say? You want me to agree with you?"

Snapping his gaze back to meet mine, he chewed on his bottom lip, right where his lip ring once was. And he waited. He waited for me to explain myself, "You're not a psychopath, you think you are... But you're not and whatever issues you have, you're getting better."

"No." "I'm not getting better. I'm-I'm never gonna get better."

I was channeling my father, thinking of things he'd say to his patients and applying that to Oliver's situation. "You are but its not gonna be all rainbows and sunshine instantly, it's gonna take time."  Hesitantly stepping closer, I'd reached for him, gripping his cheeks in my hands when he didn't stop me. His eyes had instantly fluttered shut, lips parting and I took a moment to let him feel the affection I held in my fingertips, "You're stronger than this, Oliver, I know you are you just- you can't let your anger take over."

He wasn't pushing me away, eyes screwed shut as he reached for my right hand with his left, "I blacked out when I got home."

"It's okay." And I tried not to be hurt when he pulled my hand off of him, my other following when it was clear he didn't want me to touch him. Still, I continued to question him, I couldn't let my feelings get in the way, "How long was it?"

What I didn't expect was for him to shut his eyes tight and shake his head so harshly as if he were trying to forget. Gripping his inky locks, he let out a strained hiss, muscles in his arms tightening and his jaw clenching. Oliver was breaking, more than I'd seen in a while, and I was brought back to that time in the boys' bathroom... The first time he'd ever had control over himself.

He was realizing his stance on things back then but now, he seemed to be overanalyzing everything. "Goddamnit, Em, just be done with me." His voice was cracked, chewing back on his bottom lip and drawing blood, he sucked in sharp breaths.

"How long?"

Sighing shakily, he attempted to calm down, shaking his head as if I'd asked him the hardest question in the world. "Elliot said it was just a few minutes."

And that was significantly... "Better." It was so much better than where we started, Oliver's blackouts were less frequent -despite the slip where he literally almost killed Ceaser- he was learning. I just wished he'd stop doubting his progress.

Damn, I sounded just like my dad.

Shifting away from me, Oliver had opted to sit on the edge of his bed, his arms were pulled into himself, eyes staring straight at the floor. His leg was shaking nervously as he breathed softly and it only took me a second to sit beside him, reaching out and twining our hands together.

He didn't move but there was a tick in his jaw and an itch in his palms as he fidgeted with my fingers. Oliver was thinking hard, I could tell from the way his brows were furrowed and he reached up to tangle his free hand in his hair. Hunching over, he'd closed his eyes and mulled over his thoughts and ever so defeated, he mumbled out his conclusion. "I'm crazy."

"You're not." I was losing count of how many times I had to tell him that before he could believe it. "You gotta trust me on this."

And we sat there in silence, the clock on his wall ticking repeatedly and I listened intently to his breathing. How it would intensify whenever I felt his eyes on me and my heart would beat faster. When he was calm, his breaths even, he'd scooted closer... Slowly, as if testing the waters, and turned to face me. I didn't look at him until his hand slipped to my thigh and grabbed at mine, his eyes centered on the hole in his wall.

I didn't expect him to say anything and he didn't for at least another ten minutes.

Somewhere along the comfortable silence and when his face had ended up in the crook of my neck, he breathed out hollowly, "Wh-why... Why did you do it?"

Playing with his fingers, I leaned my head on his, "What?"

"What was the dare and why did you do it?" Shrugging, he turned his hand around and slid his fingers through mine and suddenly -as if I'd gotten through to him- all was well. I knew that we needed to talk more about this but as for right then, we were content. "I don't believe that you would do that to me. You wouldn't hurt me like that..."

Opting to stay silent so I didn't make him more mad, I focused on the back of his hand underneath the pad of my thumb.

Shifting so I couldn't ignore him, he laid on his back on my lap, eyes meeting mine and his were brighter than before. He was willing to listen, he was waiting for me to explain and I couldn't lie to him, "I'm not going to yell at you."

"It's okay if you do, I won't blame you-"

Shaking his head, he bit at his lip again, pulling the flesh into his mouth and exposing the hole underneath. Lifting our hands, he fiddled with them again, "I'm not raising my voice at you again. I just want to know why you did it." Letting go of him, I raked my hands through his inky hair, it was soft and lacked product that day. He must've showered after his breakdown earlier...

Breathing in slowly, I attempted to explain, looking straight into his eyes so he'd know I was telling the truth. "It was just a stupid little dare to talk to you at first but then..." And I shrugged, "Sid saw that I was interested although I denied it, but you're hard to ignore. I started to enjoy being around you but I didn't have the guts, I guess, so they told me to be your friend for a week but... I started to like you and eventually, I forgot it was a dare. I didn't even get the stupid five bucks for it."

It was silent again but silences were quite frequent in our relationship so I wasn't bothered, "Were you even gonna tell me?"

"I forgot, Oliver, I swear." Smiling down at him, I tried to convince him and from his facial expressions, I could tell he was understanding. "You mean so much to me, okay? I'd never play you like that."

And I was expecting another question of my feelings for him but he just grimaced, resigning and leaning future into my touch, prompting my hand to start moving again. "Okay." He'd said before pausing and nodding, small smile slipping onto his face, "Okay. We're gonna work on this, on listening and not assuming the worst in each other."

"I don't want to break up." I didn't and I feared we would so I had to voice it. Oliver was one of the best things that had ever happened to me, I couldn't lose him.

Rolling his eyes, he sat up before sliding off his bed and crouching on the floor. Picking up a few of his ripped posters, he sighed before sitting them in a pile beside his bed. Looking around at the mess he'd made, Oliver met my eyes once again, "You think I do?"

"A little." Getting up to help in picking up some of his smashed records and turned over books, I noticed the titles. There was the standard book we got in Psychology but amongst them were other books on sociology, others on psychopathic tendencies, some autobiographies from people diagnosed with depression. And they were all obviously read to some extent, folded pages and bookmarks that had fallen out and one with some sort of stain on it, probably from something he'd been drinking.

From those books, I could tell... He knew he wasn't a psychopath but maybe he didn't understand what he was dealing with and he wanted to.

Deciding to make that a conversation for later, I placed the in some order on his bookshelf before busying myself with rehanging some posters.

And I felt his hands on my waist, his lips on my shoulder, I could feel his smile through my sweater. "I'm mad but I'm not stupid."

"I'm sorry."

And helping me tack a salvageable poster to the wall, he kept his eyes on where it was placed, "It's alright."

But it wasn't, I hurt him constantly and that was gonna change. I couldn't be one of his problems when I supposed to help him. "It's not."

I stepped back a bit as he pushed a thumbtack into the wall, "It will be." Briefly glancing at me, he smiled before leaning down to pick up another poster and angling it the way he wanted. "We're gonna get past this and I'm getting help and I think I'm gonna start taking my pills again."

"Kiss me?" I couldn't help my heart swelling and my eyes most-likely glazing over. Oliver was back and throughout the past hours without seeing him smile genuinely, my heart fluttered at the return. I smiled back.

As if challenging me, he finished placing another poster back on the wall before turning towards me. I had to look up only slightly to meet the amused glint in his eye. "Why don't you kiss me for a change?"

Smiling up at him, I flashed my teeth, squinting. "Because if I lead, Princess, you might get a little too excited."

"Oh whatever." I felt my skin warm as he gripped my wrists and pulled me towards his body, wrapping his arms around me, them resting on my shoulder blades and his lips pressed firmly to my hair. I hadn't straightened it in a while just like I knew he liked as he played with the honey brown strands that laid on my upper back, "I love you."

And I didn't know what to say to that so I opted to bury my make-up free face in the plain black shirt he'd recently pulled on, wrapping my arms around his waist and fisting the fabric in between my hands. His chest was warm and his shirt smelled of jolly ranchers which wasn't surprising since it was one of his candies.

Smiling softly, I looked up, detaching myself a little in order to reach up and pull his face towards mine. Licking my lips, I was about to make a smart remark about him smelling sweeter than he looked when Elliot's voice rang through the room. "I thought you came in here for forgiveness not fornication."

Groaning, I thought about the fact the I should've locker the door or maybe thrown my shoe at his head. Throwing my head back, I met Elliot's baby/blue eyes, giving him an unimpressed look. I must've really trusted Oliver because not once did he drop me as I crossed my arms in almost a backbend but he did let out a shocked noise. God, he was stronger than I thought. "Get out, El."

Oliver had pulled me up before I could lose my balance. Giving me wide eyes, he gripped my hips before turning me around. Smiling at his surprise hat I would put my whole life in his hands and trust him not to drop me on my head, I smirked at Elliot and raised a brow. Why did he have to interrupt my first cute moment with Oliver all day? "It's my house, Em."

Rolling my eyes, I stomped as Oliver held tighter before resting his chin on my shoulder. "Eli."

And Elliot chuckled at that, seemingly forgiven me for hurting Oliver in the first place, "I came to tell you that mom said send Emerson home because it's getting late."

At that, Oliver's arms had tightened even more and he'd started whining, "I don't want you to gooooo."

"Jesus Christ, man." Elliot's voice was disbelieving as he finally took a look around the room, "mom's gonna kill you."

"Damn right."

Laughing, I detangled myself, kissing his lips before picking up the backpack I'd absentmindedly discarded by his door, "I'll text you, babe."

"You better."

And dodging a gawking Elliot, we made our way out of his room and into the hallway. Walking in silence, I admired the family pictures on the walls as we made our way to the front of his house and once we were in his living room, we'd stopped. Turning once again to kiss his lips, I made sure his mother wasn't in the room before asking, "Can I come over tomorrow?"

"For fornication?" Raising his eyebrows, he chuckled, lips pulled in that cute little closed-mouth grin of his. "God, I knew you were obsessed with me."

Rolling my eyes, I chewed at my bottom lip, eyes on his playful ones. At that moment, I could see the green in them, the excitement and happiness, I was so falling in love with him. "Oh whatever. I might just be coming over for your Netflix."

"And no chill?" There was a pout on his lips and I pecked at the hole underneath his bottom one. God he was cute.

Slipping a hand to his ass, I pinched it while laughing, almost out the door. "Maybe a little bit of chill, white boy."

A/N:

okay so I was inspired by foreversmilin to do this really cool thing, right?
so you know how this story is coming to an end, right?
well, i recently got into photoshop and I've been practicing and I figured "why not?"

So I've created instagrams for both Oliver and Emerson (full credit going to the real actor/model: Rory Torrens and Vanessa Morgan.)

I don't know, I just feel like you guys would enjoy getting to know the characters on a more personal level, yeah?

Go follow, babes.

-

SPINOFF WILL HAPPEN AND I HAVE DRAFTED AND WRITTEN A BIT OF EACH BUT I ONLY WANT TO DO ONE AND I CANNOT DECIDE:

I'M GIVING YOU GUYS THE CHANCE TO VOTE, COMMENT BESIDE THE ONE YOU WANT. I'LL TALLY THEM UP AND CHOOSE AT THE END OF PSYCHOPATH

1. Elliot's story (Pyromaniac):

Living up to a sibling's rep is hard, living up to their achievements even worse and when Oliver Remmer graduated, he left behind a legacy.

A legacy that his younger brother Elliot just had to top.

2. January and Jackson's story (Sophomore Boys):

January never understood the infatuation grown men had with teenage boys.

That is until he got a taste of Jackson Riley.

And well, Jan's just plain greedy.

Updated: Wed, July 6th