Rage sparked in gray eyes, an almost sterling silver, and Oliver Remmer let out a heavy grunt swinging the mallet forward with all his might. The clash was loud, booming through the tiny room and echoed out into the hallway. He swung the blunt object in his hands again, and again each collision harsher and sloppier than the last.

Pale skin stretched over taut biceps, exposed by a muscle shirt and when he'd gotten enough, he let out one last scream it almost painful, dropping the mallet onto the floor and tugging his goggles upwards to rest on a shaggy head of black hair.

The busted fridge sat against a graffitied wall, the dent where Oliver had unleashed deeper than the others and Emerson Riley bit back a smirk at the satisfied look on her boyfriend's face.

"Holy shit!" That was Elliot Remmer, his eyes blown wide.

Somewhere between a slightly manly squeal and a guttural laugh, he was bellowing over loud music. Head banging in time with the pulse, a sudden rush, he was barreling towards the damaged kitchenware, brushing his gloved fingers over the dent in the tagged fridge.

In seconds, that excitement had boiled over, the youngest brother reaching for the pile of discarded tools on the floor. With all his might, he was spinning around a baseball bat, slamming it forward into a lamp and knocking it off the table with a grunt.

Behind thick goggles, he watched it shatter against a brick wall.

Oliver laughed, it heavy and boisterous, almost falling to his knees when his brother nearly slid to the floor at the exertion.

His face flushed, eyes screwed shut and he grabbed for his abdomen, Elliot Remmer ducking back from the mess and raging out to some shitty song.

"You look so fucking stupid." That was Sidney, the final of the four, leaning over onto her best friend's back.

Initially, they'd made plans to actually go on that double date - Oliver, Emerson and Elliot that is but when Jovie Nichols cancelled unexpectedly due some family thing that he was fully convinced didn't actually exist, the younger Remmer's tune had changed.

Instead of a nice -yet reasonably priced- dinner date that he'd finally scrounged up enough to pay for -not really, he was planning on getting the cheapest thing for himself and seeing how the night panned out.

Well, the night planned specifically for the cheerleader, instead they'd ended up sitting in the Riley's living room and watching MasterChef Junior on cable.

When Sidney had swung by hours later, moping about missing her boyfriend who was busy packing to venture back to France for the summer, hanging out at Emerson's house turned into a big pity party. Growing tired quickly, Oliver stood and yanked his brother up by the arm and the younger Remmer stumbled forward complaining about adolescent, growing bones.

He'd told his brother to -albeit, in nicer words- stop being such a pussy. In which Sidney had reminded the newest addition that "we only use gender-neutral insults, Crusher."

She suggested a Rage Room somewhere in South Carolina, January and Jackson refusing to tag along due to some drama that was exclusive to them and no one cared enough to delve into an argument that was likely about what Streetfighter character was the best or which new NBA player had Mamba potential.

That was how they'd all piled up in Oliver's beat up old Jeep, a Friday night hang out turned road trip.

"Don't be mean to me, I'm loveless." Elliot's voice was whiney and he tugged at the sleeves of his Whitney tee.

"Oh shut up." My boyfriend's lips had curled up into a nasty frown as he brushed inky hair back. I watched it naturally part down the middle, something that reminded me so much of Mid-90s heartthrobs. How Leo DiCaprio wore his hair, Shawn from Boy Meets World style.

14 year old Emerson was blushing.

Something about this era of Oliver felt so reminiscent of those crushes. He was so much more expressive now.

It felt like he was going through his own style evolution. He'd been changing a bit to try and figure out what kind of things he liked. Some weeks his outfits were borderline goth but the next kinda skater boy and it was getting hard to keep up. But he looked so fucking good in everything he tried.

He was wearing this extremely worn-in oversized short-sleeve Biggie t-shirt, striped shirt underneath, silver rings and chains all bunched up on his wrists and hands. His ash green eyes were complemented by the recent chocolate brown he'd dyed his hair weeks prior.

He had a blond streak in it that I absolutely hated.

And he'd gotten his nose pierced. The phase would die out soon, I was sure, the month prior he was dressed like a young Johnny Depp with the hair to match.

But regardless of my boyfriend's recent go-with-the-flow mentality and very fluid, very confusing style... I was just happy he was smiling more and he was sitting with me in the mornings, taking his antidepressants and his Valium with no complaints except for the pulp in my orange juice.

Amidst a ton of psychotherapy sessions where he admitted so, so much, they'd deduced it down to a few words: intermittent explosive disorder.

And he was coping well, finding ways to keep himself on track. Sometimes he lifted weights, he'd been taking up the guitar, we tried to meditate weekly. I needed it too, some peace, my schedule was often so hectic trying to get a freelance photo business off the ground.

He had a journal that sat next to our bed in our little one bedroom apartment a few blocks from our parents, He would write all his thoughts down, seldom he shared them but I didn't mind.

Because he was so energetic and sappy and still so fucking sweet.

Oliver licked his lips when he'd caught me watching, winking when my eyes drifted back up to catch his. My stomach churned, all butterflied and I tried to ignore how absolutely lovesick I felt.

The mallet he'd been holding was set onto the floor in a second and we locked eyes, a stupid little cat and mouse game ensuing. I stifled a smile at the sound of Elliot whining.

Oliver darted forward, catching me off guard. twining his arms around my waist and lifting me lightly off the ground. It was still new to him, taking time

"Put me down." He was nuzzling his nose into my cheek now, pressing kisses all over me and onto the exposed skin of my neck. Sometimes he behaved like a fucking golden retriever. "Oli-ver!"

Laughter was spewing through my lips, legs twining around his black-cloaked body and I was sure we looked like we were from different realms from the outside.

We fit together so seamlessly.

"Please."

He faked like he was contemplating. "Kiss me first."

My hands were on his cheeks now, the coldness of my rings making him shiver. I watched his eyes get darker, turn that deep grayish-green that never failed to shoot through my body and right between my legs.

I pulled his face closer, his arms now wrapped under my ass and holding me up— for support, of course.

It was a slow kiss at first until he bit my bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and he was never good at making sure I wasn't wet in public.

Everything about Oliver screamed sex and he drove me so insane especially when I could feel his smirk against my lips. He pushed me back into the table behind me and I pushed him off very quickly before his brother got a show that he didn't ask for and definitely did not need to see.

"Relax." But my voice was breathless and he was laughing, still chasing my lips.

"Gimme another."

He was always so pouty when he didn't get what he wanted; I leant forward to peck his jutted out bottom lip. He frowned.

"Now will you put me down?"

"I want a real kiss." My arms were tossed over his shoulders, twined in the back, I'd forgotten where we were completely. He smelled so good, he looked amazing.

Maybe I didn't hate the blond.

"You should get highlights." We'd match even more in the hair department and lighter hair made him look so much more lively.

His eyes were on mine and I was imagining getting old with him. It was insane. "Tug my hair, dammit." His eyes rolled then narrowed and I mimicked him with a giggle.

"Tug my hair damnit— Boy, fuck you," he'd raised a brow at that, hand squeezing at my ass and I genuinely wanted to kick him off me or we'd be in the backseat of his car in 2.5 seconds.

"Is that an offer-"

I rolled my eyes then, Elliot's barking laugh reminding me that we weren't alone and I shoved him back gently, smacking his chest with little force. "Put me down."

"As you wish, sweetheart." And that was a joke but he was always a bit submissive in nature, maybe it had a lot to do with him being so intimidating in general, he wanted to lose some control.

I loved that about Oliver, that he could completely tire me out but liked to be dominated a bit. He was frustrating sometimes with how bluntly he said things but was so genuinely willing to please me in intimate ways and in everyday situations.

He was a gentleman, he held doors, he always paid the check in full, and he treated me like a fucking lady.

His hand was held out, helping me off the table with a "mi lady," and I wrinkled my nose.

"You're so fucking cheesy."

"You love it."

And I did. "I love you." More than anything.

Sometimes it scared me, really, the idea that I could fall so in love with someone. Honestly, it scared me the minute he said it because of how quickly he could take it back.

And Oliver was amazing, he was so good, genuinely good and he was so good to me and my parents, my friends loved him.

He fit in my life so perfectly, the hopeless romantic buried deep in me would call it kismet.

And the normal me would gag, loudly.

Elliot's voice pulled my attention away, my eyes still taking over my boyfriend's face. I wondered how he didn't feel uncomfortable when I found myself staring. "We could have what they have."

With a hefty eye roll, Sidney was snorting. "Y'all are so fucking irritating." Eyes on the boy next to her, they narrowed into slits and the fingers, loosely curled around her shoulder, were shrugged off. "Get off me, Runt."

"You know, Sidney..." Elliot had always been a bit smooth though, something he definitely did not learn from Oliver. He was nifty and it was comedic as he slid in close to my best friend.

He sighed, gazing over at her with his most false, yet most believable lovesick look and I was sure one day he'd break hearts. "I'm sure in another universe we're already together so why not just skip the formalities..."

"In your dreams, Casanova."

"Every night-" A pair of goggles had smacked the side of his face, his head whipping to the side with a glare. "Oh, fuck you, Oliver!"

"Stop being a creep." While he was preoccupied, I took my time to unlatch his arms from around me, moving over to grab my phone. "Hey, where are you going?"

"I want a few pictures."

•

Phoenix hadn't gotten enough of bothering Oliver. With only two days until graduation, he still found a way to pop up in our lives. Sidney said it was because he was a fan, I said it was because he was determined to make a fool of himself. But Oliver...

Oliver didn't care either way.

Maybe it shouldn't have been as hot as it was: his being indifferent... but it just was, Oliver had changed in a big way. He didn't let things bother him the way they did before, and that alone made me love him more.

Maybe it was optimistic of me or maybe I'd fallen into a cycle of being in love with him but realizing that I loved him was still kind of weird.

I started to notice weird little things about him like the way he smiled slightly different when someone's said something kind of funny. He'd taken a liking to my friends and they seemed to be more than welcoming. Maybe I should've expected it, because of the way my friends were nearly extended family.

It was still kind of weird though.

But I was getting used to it, it was a good weird, a welcomed change. Our lunch table got bigger, our weekend plans more adventurous and Oliver smiled more.

He was on some tight regimen of medication now. It was still a learning curve, understanding what did and didn't click from a hormonal point of view. He was more interested in his own health than he'd ever been and I wasn't sure exactly how things were going to go but it was more than okay for now.

Even if we fought sometimes, even if my constant checking was near nagging. He always kissed me afterwards, placed soft, reassuring lips on my forehead, thanked me for caring even if he didn't need to,

And he told me that he loved me.

Tightening my hand around his, I pressed my cheek into his clothes shoulder, faint scent of cologne there.

Catching a fry in his mouth, Sidney cheered, somehow they'd become the best of friends and that had to have been the weirdest part of it all. Chewing, he looked over to press a closed mouth kiss to my cheek, licking over his salty lips after.

Turning to push another fry into his mouth, he pursed his lips for another kiss and I was loving this affectionate nature he had.

"I don't want your salty kisses."

"Don't fib, lovey."

Pet names were another thing he'd been so fond of and I wasn't all that into it. But this one was cute.

Still, I had to bully him, of course. "You're not British, it doesn't work."

He pouted, rolling his eyes and wiping his mouth when I deadpanned. And then he was stealing another kiss mid-laugh, my hands pressed to his neck, thumb brushing over the tattoo on the back.

"Is that right, lovey?"

"...You're annoying." The most annoying man I'd ever met if we were being honest.

"You love me, lovey." He spoke through kisses, forehead on mine.

"Mhm."

And he pulled away, arm around my shoulder and pulling me closer, teasing ensuing, Jackson gagged. That is until the table had quieted down. "S'up, Psycho?"

"What?" His kind smile had turned flat when Phoenix Meyer took the liberty to sit down across the table from me and I was starting to rethink the progression. "What do you want?"

Oliver Remmer was still calm, his green eyes centered boredly on the boy in front of us. He said the medication kind of exhausted the part in his brain that felt angry, that was such a weird explanation and I wasn't sure what to reply when he'd told me but it didn't seem to matter.

Oliver was never the type to want answers when he talked especially because he understood I wouldn't have them. He'd told me that one night as well, my body curled into his on his couch during a Criminal Minds binge, it was one of his favorite shows.

He'd pressed a kiss to my temple, lips lingering and I cuddled more into his side in silent reassurance.

This was all new and everyone around could see, Oliver wasn't reacting quickly, almost as if the impulse fraction of his brain was cut out and even Phoenix looked surprised,

"I wanna know why my girlfriend has been crying for the past week."

"What makes you think that that has anything to do with me?" Honestly, I didn't understand it either. So many other people at the table and he targeted Oliver as the reason why a seventeen year old girl was sobbing.

"Either you or her."

Blue eyes were intense shifting to me and Oliver's teeth clenched. "Don't even try."

"Your girlfriend has probably been crying because she realized her boyfriend definitely peaked in high school."

Sid coughed, "pussy ass bitch."

Shit.

Jackson's laugh was audible there, so loud it made tables over stare. It'd been months since Oliver had made any kind of scene so no one really checked for him. Maybe the constant audience he had realized that they too needed to graduate...

Or maybe they genuinely just didn't care but people were staring again, and our table was the hotspot.

Phoenix's cheeks blushed a dark red and he was frowning so much I was sure he'd get wrinkles. Once upon a time he was actually very cute to me but realizing that he was a -and I quote- pussy ass bitch, that cuteness was all discarded.

"Or maybe she's crying because you said some shit to her," he tried, tone pointed at Sidney. Maybe he actually loved Kat, he had to,

You didn't go in front of a fully equipped firing squad completely unprepared and Sidney would definitely air this bitch out with the quickness. "I mean, you are always talking shit."

And I wasn't sure why but Luca's voice was there, maybe Sidney had wiped off of him a bit. It felt like I was watching a goddamn soap-opera. "D-do not speak to her l-l-like that."

Everyone was surprised but Sidney looked like she was almost cringing and she pushed ringed fingers through his curls.

"Baby..."

"No." I think that was the first time I'd ever seen Luca disagree with her and the fact that it was in regards to Phoenix respecting her was actually really, really sweet. "Men do-do not just get to-to... speak to you in that way. De mauvaises manières, non, he sh-should not speak to women that way."

"Et pas my girl."

Phoenix rolled his eyes so harshly then, laughter almost a bark. "You are about as intimidating as a French bulldog."

"That one took a lot of brain power, huh?"

Ignoring Sid, his eyes stayed concentrated on the French boy, gaze unwavering. Luca's confidence was so surprising. "You know, ICE is a call away, they specialize in deportation in case you didn't know."

And that was ridiculous, so, so ridiculous. I wasn't sure why I didn't expect it but Phoenix was a bigot, some part of me thought that stopped at homophobia.

Kat was Cuban, and she wasn't born in America either. I wondered if she really knew what kind of guy he was.

"I-I am on an exchange pr-program."

"My dad's a lawyer." It only got worse from there, smirk and narrowing eyes into slits. "I think they'll take his word over yours when I tell them you've overstayed your Visa." And he was bluffing, he most definitely was.

"Oh, fuck you and your dad—"