Dragging Oliver from his truck and into my house seemed like a good plan in a sense but when I realized that I was a thin girl with little to no upper body strength, I doubted my ability.

"Jan meet Oliver. Oliver, this is my best friend, Jan," I'd growled out after I'd gotten the brick-like boy past the threshold. He stumbled a bit, almost falling but catching himself with his good foot.

Of course I hadn't noticed the silence nor did I actually care about what made him nearly fall but as I looked up at him, his eyes were trained on Jan in disbelief. Trying to avoid looking over at my best friends in fear I'd lose my balance, curiosity won the best of me and I scanned my friends' faces.

Katalina was rushing to the kitchen, grabbing some paper towels as Sidney cringed at the dried blood. Of course, Kat being the mother-like figure in our group when it got serious, brought the paper towels over to Oliver, tilting his head back.

And then I saw the look January was giving Oliver, his eyes wide and pretty pink lips parted, eyebrows furrowed. Of course, I dismissed it but when Jan excused himself to the guest bathroom and Sid looked after him in concern, I knew there was a secret.

There seemed to be so many damn secrets lately.

"Dammit, Olive..." Sidney cursed out the nickname she'd given him when Kat had asked her to bring more towels and she took a detour as Kat pressed the bloodied tissues to his face, not knowing what the fuck she was doing, "You're beaten up pretty bad."

"I've had worse," he shrugged, smiling slightly, his face screwing up in pain when he'd done so. He mumbled a quick 'thank you', Kat pulling away to go wash her hands and Sidney assisting me in bringing Oliver to mine and Jackson's shared bathroom.

"That's a lot of blood..." She murmured, catching sight of his matted hair, grimace settling on his face.

And his next words sent shivers down my spine, "It's not mine."

He'd beaten someone, he'd beaten them so they were losing blood, and he had the blood all over himself, "Oh," Sid had muttered quite uncomfortably, never being one to like talking about things like this.

He seemed so calm about it, like that sort of thing happened all the time and I briefly did worry about his sanity. I couldn't imagine nearly killing people an not feeling remorse for more than a second. I couldn't imagine blacking out and not knowing what you were doing or who you were fighting and frankly, that part of Oliver shook me to the core.

I'd tried to be the type of person who didn't judge and wasn't afraid of anything and for a while I thought I was... But I still found myself questioning whether or not I lied to Oliver.

Maybe I was a little afraid of what he was capable of.

"Did you blackout?" I'd found myself asking after we'd stood in silence in front of the sink. Sidney had excused herself and I could hear her laughing an Kat and her conversing as they watched tv.

"Yeah. This one was really bad too, I uh..." Oliver had trailed off, and I wasn't expecting him to grip my hips, lifting me effortlessly and sitting me on the counter. He'd stood in between my legs, not speaking until he'd pulled out the bandages, alcohol, and cotton balls that he'd memorized the placement of. And as he was shuffling through the medicine in the bottom, he spoke, "I can't really remember anything except that it was behind a grocery store and Elliot drove us home."

I'd instructed him to take two aspirin after he'd said his head was pounding and after he'd swallowed them raw, I began brushing his hair out of his face, "you have to take a shower."

He shrugged at the, trying to make a neutral face so I could assess the damage and deciding to start on cleaning up the blood, I got a rag. Most of the blood was on top of bruises and it was dried so I'd have to press pretty hard, "This is gonna hurt."

"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered, clenching his fists on the counter when I'd pressed a little too forcefully. His lip was pulled into his mouth, eyes screwed shut as I pulled away quickly.

"Sorry!"

⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄

It'd been a half an hour and after a lot of thigh-smacking when I'd accidentally hurt him and a shit load of pain hisses, I was finishing on washing the matted blood out of his hair, "Done."

"Thanks, Em," he smiled, checking himself in the mirror. His damp hair was sticking to his face but at least he was free from someone else's evidence. I grimaced at the red rag in the sink as I drained the water.

I felt Oliver cup my face, turning me to fact him and he leaned in, my head turning away at the last second, ponytail lightly grazing his face.

It's not that I didn't want to kiss him cause, God, I wanted to kiss him.

I just... I didn't want to be unsure of anything when we kissed. I mean, I was still questioning whether or not he was okay in the head and I'm sure that would piss him off.

"Oh," his mood had deflated as he released me, picking at his tattoo subconsciously with hurt in his eyes.

'love yourself so no one has to.'

I gulped before turning to him, "do you feel any remorse?"

His eyebrows furrowed as he gazed down at me. He wast that tall, just around 5'10 to barely pass my 5'7, "For what?"

"I just-" I didn't want to ask but I had to know. Sucking in a breath, I spoke, "do you feel bad about having blood on you that's not yours?"

He rolled his eyes, "I was protecting my brother, Emerson. I'd never feel bad for that..." And when he say the look on my face, he sighed, "Wouldn't you do anything to protect Jackson?"

"Well yeah, but that's not the same thing-"

"Why?" He gritted his teeth, looking offended that is even argue about it, "because I'm crazy, right? I'm the psycho that puts people in the ER for no good reason; I get a kick out of beating people half to death."

That wasn't what I meant. At least, I convinced myself that I hadn't meant that.

I tried to speak again, "Oliver-"

His voice came in like a gunshot, abrupt and cold as it darted right through my sentence, "I get it."

We were silent and I started to regret everything.

I'd promised that I wouldn't judge him and I fucking did exactly that. I accused him of things and I assumed without knowing his story.

But that was it: how was I supposed to not judge if he made it so easy to?

Still, I'd sucked up my pride, trying to understand as my fingers tried to lace themselves through his, him letting me but his hand staying slack, "I'm sorry, alright?"

"Why?" He'd spat, his temper getting the best of him but his hands staying glued to his side. He didn't lash out or break away from me, guilt coursing through my veins at the fact that I thought he'd be violent.

I sighed, trying to phrase my words in a way that he wouldn't misunderstand, "I'm sorry for judging you but you have to understand that it's hard, okay?"

"To be my friend?"

Friend. There was that fucking word again and like normal, I'd started to hate that he'd called me it. It hit me that I didn't want to be his friend, I wanted him to put his lips on mine.

I tried getting back to the conversation, succeeding when I'd seen his scars, "To not be concerned when you blackout in a fight and someone else's blood is on you," I sighed, tightening my hold on his hand, assurance registering when he's squeezed it back, "I like you but I don't like that I get worried that maybe you're not who I think you are. I mean, you say you're protecting Elliot and I'm trying to believe that but what were you protecting him from that hurt you this badly? You can't even walk on your own."

He nodded, letting me finish, my throat fighting not to close up at the frustration I was feeling.

"That's a problem and it's also a problem that I keep forgetting that I know nothing about you. I don't know what you've been through and I don't know what you're going through. Yeah, maybe it's not my place or you don't trust me or whatever but I want to at least know why I'm patching you up every other week."

Closing my eyes when his hand left mine, I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding when I was pulled into his chest. His arms laced around my body as he held me there, my eyes pricking with unwanted tears, "I'm sorry."

My voice was muffled by Jackson's shirt that he allowed Oliver to borrow, "For?"

He sighed, "For hiding things from you and for assuming the worst in you," I felt him suck in a breath, "I just- I can't tell you all this stuff yet, okay? I don't know what the hell I'm doing when I black out and I'm trying to control myself. My mom said she can get me some pills to chill me out but I don't know if I can do that, Em."

He was steering clear of what he did and why he did it but I let it slide. I seemed to be letting a lot of things slide lately.

I felt the tears pass thankfully but my nose was stuffy and my lips were pursed in an attempt to hold in my suppressed sob, I was such a kid, "Okay, just please assure me that you're not some serial killer, alright?"

He laughed lightly, breaking away from the hug at my attempt at a joke, "I'm not a serial killer."

I could see the nervousness on his features as he looked at me, taking in everything I was saying as I wiped at my nose, "Thank you. And I'm gonna support you no matter what you choose, pills or not. You can trust me, Oliver, okay? You can tell me things."

"Promise?" He'd asked, raising his eyebrows like a little kid and I'd been unable to hold back my smile.

"Promise."

He grinned then, tucking his hand behind my neck, his ears impossibly red, "you're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."

"The feeling's mutual."

He took a breath, biting his lip before kissing me.

And not to be cliché but frick I felt sparks and moth-like creatures swarming my stomach.

"You're pretty," he'd mumbled onto my lips, making me smile and my heart to pound erratically against my ribs.

And Oliver's lips... I can't even begin to explain how perfect they were. They were soft yet slightly chapped and the cut on his lip might've been gross and rugged but I hadn't cared. My hands had almost automatically reached for his shoulders, pulling him closer.

⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄

We were on my bed later that day, Oliver hovering over my body as his lips caressed mine, the smell of cigarettes not bothering me. I felt his hands grip my hips, his knees on either side and for the life of me, I couldn't explain how we'd gotten there. Oliver was a good guy though, you could tell by the way his hands stayed firmly in place and he hadn't once insinuated anything but kissing.

His shirt was the only thing I could hold onto as Oliver's bruised lips pulled away from mine, taking my bottom lip with him. And with a smirk, he let it go, it snapping back against my teeth.

He was perfect.

Tugging his shirt off, I sat up before switching positions so I was straddling his lean legs. His lips were red and swollen, lazy smile on them as my fingertips traced his abs. Hesitantly, his hands moved down to my ass, looking for reassurance the entire time.

"This okay?"

I nodded, circling my hips on his and I'd be lying if I said there was anything hotter than a sexually frustrated Oliver Remmer lying underneath me, "Just like that, shit, Em."

I felt him brush against me, my back arching in response as he groaned, "Okay but, I-is this heaven?" he'd asked rhetorically, me agreeing as I continued my movements. This was completely unlike us and I knew that.

And I don't know what possessed me because all of a sudden, I'd been bold, pressing a kiss to his neck. Neither of us had cared to mention the fact that he was hard as a fucking rock underneath me.

My thumb circled on his hip as he gripped me tighter, head thrown back so I could suck and bite gently on a little space on his porcelain skin.

He groaned before grabbing my hands, pulling me a little forward so I was sitting upright on his waist instead of his hips. My hands were latching on his as I admired my work.

"Um, Em, I think I should go -uh- handle myself."

Too caught up in the moment, I bit my lip, eyes tracing down his torso and to his abs, counting each one and thinking about how it'd feel to glide my tongue across the v disappearing into the waistband of his boxers, "I could-"

His eyes went wide as he stiffened, I could basically hear his heart beating. Blood rushed to his face, his cheeks redder than ever, "I'm not letting you do that, alright?"

"But-" I'd gotten someone off before, it wasn't bad, actually kind of enjoyable and from the outline in his jeans, comparing him to Ceaser wasn't even necessary, Oliver was bigger.

I'd have absolutely no problem even with my jaw aching afterwards.

He shook his head, voice stern, "No, buts."

"Fine..." I resigned, knowing good and well that Oliver didn't approve of me rubbing my thigh against his situation as I got off of him with a wink, "you can use my bathroom but wash your hands after."

He looked like he was about to blow any second as he groaned, head roller back. He cursed lowly as he stood to get off my bed, rushing across the room and out the door, "I'll be back in a little bit."

"Don't moan too loud."

His eyes went wide and I could see the twitch of his funzone as his ears turned red.

"Dammit," I'd heard him mutter when he'd made it into the bathroom and I was a little more than slightly happy to hear a chorus of breathless 'Em's sounding from the bathroom.