Timeless [h.s]

Thirty seven

Stuart

As I sat in a very uncomfortable silence with Oliver, I almost hoped Ayla would call to end my misery. All her revelations were swirling inside my brain, the idea of Gaston lurking in the shadows of my life for almost two years made everything worse.

I felt violated, much like I did when I received my naked pictures inside Harry's room. I wanted to believe Ayla, I truly did, but I was afraid of doing so and ending up dead, along the people I loved most. I could feel Oliver's eyes on me, discreetly watching and perhaps wondering when I would finally have a mental breakdown.

"Your silence is driving me crazy." He finally admitted, after almost an hour of intense monitorization. I wanted to smile at him, but my lips barely curved upwards. He was sitting in my plush chair, having a perfect view of me, sprawled on my bed. If we weren't in such dire circumstances, the entire situation would be slightly tense, considering how intimate his presence inside my bedroom felt.

"I don't have much to say. Everything I imagined about my life was a lie and I honestly don't know who to trust." My eyes were closed but I could imagine the crease forming in his forehead, the way his blue eyes intently watched my every twitch, trying to assess my mood and say something helpful.

"I think it all comes down to how you felt about Ayla back then. Did you think she was a trustworthy friend?" He questioned, tone gentle.

"Yeah, but it's not like she fucked Gaston behind my back or anything." I countered back, feeling bitter about the entire situation. I wanted to pretend it didn't bother me, but it stirred old sentiments, things I didn't even remember. I was not jealous, I was angry that I had been blind sighted by my own lady.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you are jealous." He answered, a hint of surprise lacing his tone. I could understand where he was coming from. I wasn't able to reciprocate his feelings but somehow I felt wounded when I found out my abusive, cheating husband went behind my back with one of my best friends.

"It's not that." I said, finally sitting, crossing my legs and facing him. "I feel diminished. No one cheats on the queen with her best friend. I am angry because they somehow found a way to hide it from me." I shrugged, knowing I was petty but proud of myself for admitting it.

"Old habits die hard, huh?" He teased, probably remembering my not so great moments when I acted as a spoiled brat and threw tantrums.

"I guess so." I smiled at him, feeling slightly more at ease. I loved Harry but I had to admit he and I were still discovering each other, which was the opposite of Oliver and I. We spent centuries apart and he still remembered details about me, which was comforting; knowing someone actually understood everything I had been through was a blessing I hadn't foreseen.

"Are you going to tell Sienna and Arthur about today?" He spoke again, this time starting to roam through my room and sitting down in front of my bedside table. I watched his curiosity with amusement, wondering how much he'd snoop around.

"I have to, but I really don't have the emotional stability to do so." I admitted. The last thing on my mind was answering endless questions about Ayla. They had every right to be curious and try to understand the situation completely, but I was tired of my life revolving around this issue. I wanted a couple minutes to myself, moments in which I could just breathe and try to tidy the mess inside my brain a bit.

"I could talk to them if you'd like." He offered, opening one drawer and starting to sort through my hidden chocolates. His mischievous smile was infecting and I reciprocated the gesture, watching as he read the labels.

"I don't want to impose." I said, watching his features soften and his smile becoming tender.

"If you haven't noticed, I'd do pretty much anything for you." His tone sent chills down my spine, meaning much more than simply explaining things to my family. I could see the longing in his eyes and I turned away, not bearing to watch his not so hidden expectations materialise.