Arrow Imagines

Missing You ~ Oliver Queen

The silence in the apartment is suffocating. It's not the kind of silence that comes with comfort, but the kind that feels like something is missing, something you both used to know, but no longer do. Oliver's working late again, locked in his office with his mind somewhere else. It's been like this for weeks. Every day, the gap between you grows, and the conversations that once came so easily now feel like a struggle. 

You sit on the couch, absentmindedly flipping through channels on the TV, but not really watching anything. You're not even sure what you're doing here anymore. A part of you wants to confront him, to ask what's going on, to finally face the truth. But the other part of you is too afraid to find out. The weight of the unspoken words hanging between you both has made it hard to breathe.

The door to the apartment creaks open, and Oliver steps in. He looks exhausted, his tie loose around his neck, his sleeves rolled up, but even in his disheveled state, there's something about him that makes your heart ache. His eyes meet yours, and for a brief second, you swear you see a flicker of regret, of longing, but it vanishes almost as quickly as it appears.

He doesn't sit down immediately. Instead, he stands there, his eyes searching you, like he's trying to figure out where things went wrong. And maybe he is. You both are.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he says, his voice rough with the exhaustion that's more emotional than physical. He doesn't look like he believes the words he's saying. "I didn't mean for things to get this way."

You swallow hard, your throat tight, and you try to hold it together. It's been so long since you've felt like you could talk to him without an argument getting in the way, and the thought of it makes you sick. But you nod, biting your lip as you try to find something to say.

"I know," you whisper. "I know. But I don't even know how we got here, Oliver. It feels like we're just... ships passing in the night. You don't even look at me anymore."

His jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think he's going to turn away, to retreat back to his office. But he doesn't. He walks toward you, slowly, deliberately. The air between you both crackles with the tension that's been building for so long. When he reaches you, he doesn't sit next to you—he stands right in front of you, looking down at you with a mixture of guilt and something softer, something that still has the power to make your heart race.

"I miss you," he admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I miss the way we used to be. I don't know how to fix this, Y/N. I don't even know where to start."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but in the best way. You want to say something, to explain how much you've missed him too, but the lump in your throat won't let you. So you just nod, the tears you've been holding back threatening to spill. You've been too proud, too afraid to show him how much his distance has hurt, but now it feels like it's all pouring out at once.

"I miss you too," you manage, your voice barely audible. "I just... I don't know if we can go back to what we had."

Oliver's eyes soften, and his hand reaches out slowly, like he's afraid of making the wrong move. But when his fingers brush against yours, a spark of something familiar ignites between you both. The touch is tentative, almost like a question, but the moment it happens, it's enough. Enough to make you realize that maybe—just maybe—there's still hope.

He slides onto the couch beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body, but not quite close enough to close the gap between you. You both sit in the quiet for a long while, neither of you willing to speak just yet. The room feels small now, like it's closing in around you both, but it's not uncomfortable. It's familiar, safe, in its own way.

Then, slowly, almost as if he's waiting for you to pull away, Oliver's hand rests on your knee. The gesture is small, but it carries so much weight. He doesn't say anything, but you feel the truth in it—he's not ready to give up. Neither of you are. The tension between you both is still thick, but there's something different now. Something fragile, but real.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Oliver speaks again. His voice cracks, portraying the emotion he's hidden for so long.

"I don't want to lose you," he says, his eyes locking with yours, pleading without words. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

His words hit deep, and you feel the wall you've built around yourself start to crumble. You want to say something in response, but you don't know how to put everything you're feeling into words. So instead, you do the only thing that feels right.

You lean in, slowly, your heart pounding in your chest as the distance between you narrows. His breath catches when your lips meet, a quiet gasp escaping him, but you're both desperate for it, for the connection that's been missing for far too long. The kiss is slow at first, tentative, almost like you're testing each other again after the long time apart. You feel the warmth of his lips, the soft pressure that reminds you of everything you've missed.

But then it deepens. His hand slides to your back, pulling you closer, the touch grounding you both in the moment. Your body presses against his, the familiar scent of him, of cologne and something distinctly him, filling your senses. Your heart beats faster, your hands move instinctively to thread through his hair, tugging him closer, deepening the kiss as it escalates.

You can't remember when it happened, but somehow you've moved, and now you're straddling him, sitting on his lap, the heat of his body radiating against yours. His hands are on your hips, strong and steady, but his touch is gentle, like he's afraid of hurting you. The intensity of the kiss spikes, your body reacting to the closeness, to the way his lips feel against yours, the way he holds you like he never wants to let you go.

Your hands slide down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt, the familiar muscle of him that you've missed so much. His chest rises and falls beneath you, his breathing just as erratic as yours. When you pull back for a moment, your lips are swollen, breathless, and your eyes meet his, both of you trying to steady yourselves, against the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you.

But there's no need for words now. His hand trails up your back, resting on the back of your neck as he pulls you in for another kiss, deeper this time, more urgent. The kiss is hungry, filled with all the unspoken things you've both been holding back, the need for each other that's never truly gone away.

As you both finally pull back, your foreheads resting together, the weight of everything that's been unsaid seems to melt away. You can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm, and the softness of his breath against your lips.

"I'm here," he whispers again, and this time, it feels like a promise.

You smile softly, your hand brushing against his cheek, a gentle caress that feels like home. "I'm not going anywhere either."

And for the first time in a long time, it feels like you have found your way back to each other. The crackling tension in the air is gone, replaced by something stronger—something unspoken but certain. The spark between you two has reignited, and this time, nothing is going to extinguish it.