Immovable Object Ch. 06

A/N: Hello Literotica! I'll start by saying thank you so much for your kind reception, I read every comment and see each and every person who favorites this little passion project of mine and it means so much. I'm so glad so many of you have fallen in love with Jackson and Ollie as I have.

For my new readers, I'm coming to Literotica from another website. Chapters 1-5 of Immovable Object, Unstoppable Force were uploaded in such short succession because I was moving them from that website to this one. This chapter is the first one that lives exclusively on Literotica, and going forward (for any readers from that website who have followed me here) anything I write will only be posted here. This does mean that my upload speed will be slowing down significantly, as I now need to actually write the future chapters. I wish I was a prolific enough writer to maintain the chapter-a-day pace, but I am not.

Thanks again for all of your continued support, and a special thank you to Fantasy Weaver and Zero for giving me the strength and creative verve to keep going.

<3, Jamie

XXXXX

It was Monday. Time for class. And Jackson still hadn't heard anything from Ollie. He didn't know why he cared, honestly, it's not like they were lovers, they were barely even friends outside of the context of a simple group project, but still, Jackson caught himself checking his phone over, and over, and over again.

Thinking about Ollie over, and over, and over again.

For a while he toyed with the idea of texting again. Of asking how he was doing. Of asking if everything was alright, but he dismissed the idea.

It disgusted him, in a way. Almost... frightened him?

He had never been the type to double-text. It was embarrassing, desperate, the college-student version of getting on your knees in front of a girl and begging. He was against it. On principle.

He was the one who made girls double-text him, not the other way around, and certainly not the other way around for someone who was only a friend and nothing more.

And so, the pair's text conversation had remained silent, and Jackson remained anxious, especially as the idea of class fell from the realm of fantasy to reality.

When Jackson entered the classroom, he and Ollie's shared desk was empty. Sure, maybe Jackson had gotten there a little early, but in the pair's joking arms-race to see who could get to class earlier, Jackson was more than a little surprised not to see the back of Ollie's head, his freaky buzzcut, his smiling face as he turned in anticipation of who had just entered the classroom.

Jackson sat at the desk in silence, opting to keep his earbuds in and drown out any incoming thoughts with the hard guitar riffs of The Clash.

Eventually, there was a flash of movement in his periphery and the man he could not keep out of his head sat down next to him.

"Hey," Jackson said, when Ollie didn't start the conversation as he typically did, "You okay?"

Ollie looked up from his bag to make eye contact with Jackson and Jackson wasn't sure if it was just the anxiety in his gut curling its tentacles but it really, really felt like something was wrong.

Ollie's eyes were always dark, yes, but it was as if some secret light in them had blinked out, nothing but blackness left behind.

It was probably a trick of the light. Something to do with the reflections on the lenses of his glasses.

Jackson wanted to believe that was the truth.

"Yeah," Ollie muttered curtly, turning back to his bag just as quickly.

Jackson wanted to interrogate him, ask where normal, kind, joyous Ollie had gone, but the professor beat him to talking, announcing the beginning of class.

And that was when something else happened.

Something much rarer than Ollie seemingly becoming fed up with Jackson's endless shit, an event Jackson had honestly expected.

Ollie was... silent.

Well, silent wasn't entirely true. He talked, yes, but rarely compared to his traditional habit of raising his hand in response to every question. Every time he spoke Jackson watched his eyebrows furrow in an expression of confusion and concern that looked almost foreign on his features. Mouth rounding around words that never came.

His comments were not the insightful, intelligent, and well-organized things they usually were; they were messy and confusing things that even their professor couldn't parse.

Halfway through class, even Ollie's few and halfhearted attempts at adding to discussion stopped, and Jackson knew something was wrong.

Was it him?

Was his presence, as a halfway frat boy so disturbing to Ollie that he couldn't even make it through a class with Jackson next to him?

Jackson wanted to ask, but at the same time he never wanted to know the answer.

He didn't bother raising his hand, the thought didn't even cross his mind, without Ollie's encouragement he reverted to Old Jackson, checking out and allowing himself to worry rather than paying any attention at all.

As class came to its end, Ollie nearly jumped out of his seat as if he was allergic to the wood below him. Jackson looked up, taking a breath and starting a sentence, but Ollie was already gone, approaching the professor with his bag still sitting in his chair.

Jackson considered taking the hint and leaving, but he was dead set on getting Ollie to talk to him and decided that was not going to change without a fucking fight. All the other students filtered out of the classroom, leaving Ollie with the professor and Jackson, standing aimlessly by their backpacks.

The professor smiled and made a hand motion as if he was brushing off Ollie's concern, but it did not seem to make Ollie's brows furrow any less. Ollie walked away, looking shocked when he briefly caught eyes with Jackson and registered that he was still there, waiting for him, yet when Ollie returned to his seat to pack his bag, he didn't acknowledge Jackson's choice to wait, or Jackson at all.

"Hello? Ollie? Are you good?" Jackson asked, in a state of both anxiety and deep annoyance.

Ollie seemed to come back to himself at Jackson's comment.

"What?" He asked dazedly, before taking a moment to process what Jackson had said, "Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm-- I'm good."

Ollie returned to his bag-packing task, seeming particularly interested in it and pointedly uninterested in Jackson.

"Do you wanna..." Jackson asked before trailing off, it was as obvious as a heart attack that Ollie did not want to talk to Jackson, but he refused to take no for an answer, "Do you want to study together today?"

Ollie didn't even look up this time.

"Can't. Busy."

Ouch. Even Jackson had to take that hint.

Ollie slung his leather backpack strap over his shoulder and walked towards the classroom door without saying a word.

"Bye, see you Wednesday," Jackson called behind him, in a petty attempt to guilt the man for his silence.

"Right, bye," Ollie mumbled over his shoulder, but he was gone before Jackson could say anything else.

All Jackson could really do was jam his earbuds in his ears in frustration and let out a silent scream. What a dick. What an absolute mother fucking dick. Leading him on like that? Promising friendship and then... nothing? All over what? Some fucking frat party? Jackson knew everything he'd thought about the man from day one had been right. He was uppity and he did hate Jackson.

He saw red, and his rage carried through the next day.

XXXXX

Jackson hadn't had plans with Hyeon, but after succeeding to cut off all of his friends, both AGR and Ollie, in a singular night, he was feeling a kind of loneliness that even vodka seemed not to be solving.

The moment Hyeon saw him, her face took on a look of deep concern.

"You look like shit, Young."

"Aw, thanks," Jackson replied sarcastically, but he couldn't even deny it was true. The amount of alcohol he'd consumed in the last few days had stolen his ability to take care of himself. He was sure his blood was fifty percent ethanol by this point.

Dark circles under his eyes, knotted hair, only made worse by his ever-present split ends, and the kind of pasty appearance that implied sickness.

"I mean it," Hyeon said, "Are you okay, Jackson?"

"I'm fine," Jackson brushed off, not wanting to litigate his friend problems with Hyeon. He felt stupid for caring so much about someone he'd known for such little time.

Hyeon gave him an incredulous look.

"You're fine?" She repeated back to him, disbelieving.

"It's not a big deal," Jackson muttered, acquiescing to the notion that he was very obviously not fine, but still not wanting to talk about it.

"'Not a big deal?' Jackson, you look worse than you did when we broke up."

Jackson flushed, but he couldn't let the comment go unacknowledged.

"To be fair, I wasn't really that torn up when..."

Hyeon rolled her eyes.

"Okay, you weren't, but that's not the point. What's got you looking like... this?"

Jackson sighed and rubbed his eyes in exasperation. He wasn't getting out of this; he was sure of it at this point.

"I-- fucking Ollie," he muttered into his hands.

"You two fucked?" Hyeon asked in surprise.

"No! Not-- Fucking, like--" Jackson floundered but stopped when he noticed Hyeon giggling across from him.

"Jackson, I'm joking," She clarified, through more chuckling, and Jackson felt his entire body get hot and prickly, "I know you two didn't have sex. No self-respecting gay guy would be into" --Hyeon waved her hand in Jackson's general direction-- "this."

Jackson rolled his eyes and threw his middle finger out at the still laughing girl. Still feeling odd and unsettled from Hyeon's joke about he and Ollie fucking.

"Do you want to hear about my problems or not?" Jackson eventually asked after settling himself.

"I do, I do, sorry," Hyeon replied, settling into her listening mode that Jackson had become familiar with over the years, "Did something happen Friday when you two hung out?"

"No," Jackson quickly responded, before pausing and reconsidering the night, "Er, yes? I mean-- I don't know."

"No, meaning yes, meaning you don't know?" Hyeon repeated back at him and Jackson was hit with a distinct understanding of how stupid he sounded.

"Something happened, but I thought we'd figured it out," Jackson explained, "But now he's been giving me the cold shoulder and so I guess we didn't figure it out?"

Hyeon sat, nodding and remaining silent, and Jackson filled the open space with his own anger.

"You know what? I was fucking right about him all along." More silence, more time for Jackson to get even more angry, "For once I wasn't the perfect specimen of a human he expects everyone around him to be and now this dick-sucking, pretentious douchebag asshole can't even say out-loud he doesn't want to be friends anymore? God, he's such a fucking--"

Jackson stopped in his tracks when he realized what he was doing. No one had ever made him this angry, his eternally nonchalant attitude ensured that no one could ever make him this angry. And yet...

Hyeon finally piped up.

"Got it out of your system?"

Jackson sighed in defeat.

"Yes," came the monotone reply.

"Okay then, let's start here," Hyeon responded calmly, "What happened on Friday?"

"Friday," Jackson repeated back to her, "Let's see... we played cards, me, him, Taylor, and Amira. And then Amira and Taylor went to bed, and he asked me why I wanted to come over."

"Oh no," Hyeon muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Jackson to catch it.

"Oh yes," Jackson replied, "AGR, being nothing but helpful once again."

"You told him!?" Hyeon asked, this time sounding really surprised instead of just joking.

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" Jackson asked in desperation, "I tried to avoid the question, and he told me not to bullshit him, and I'm not gonna lie!"

"Okay, okay, fair enough," Hyeon replied, "So you told him that you're besties with the boys over at AGR and he did the sensible thing and kicked you out?"

Jackson resented the venom in Hyeon's voice, but he was not unused to it by now, that was the nicer of the two tones she took when talking about those boys.

"No, Hyeon, he did not kick me out, despite how much you'd have wanted him to."

"Okay, he didn't kick you out," Hyeon parroted, "So what did he do instead?"

"We talked about it," Jackson replied, trying to make the affair sound more casual, "I explained to him how I became friends with them, what happened last Friday, all that bullshit."

"And what did he say?"

"He told me it was okay," Jackson replied, "He let me sleep over after I told him, and the next morning he asked me to stay, I'm the one who decided to leave."

"He asked you to sleep over and told you to stay Saturday morning? That doesn't sound like an angry man to me," Hyeon replied, confused.

"Exactly!" Jackson replied, "But by the time I texted him I was home he'd decided to ghost me, I don't understand."

"What was he like in class yesterday?" Hyeon asked.

"Weird," Jackson replied. Hyeon opened her mouth to respond, but Jackson beat her to her comment, "And not just Ollie's regular brand of weird, he was acting weird for him. Didn't say shit to me, was super quiet and distracted during class, and when I asked to hang out, he told me he was busy."

The pair sat in a thoughtful silence together, before Hyeon spoke up quietly.

"Could it just be that something else is going on?" She proposed, "I mean, family emergency, stress, illness... his weirdness doesn't have to be directed at you."

Jackson had considered that possibility, but the timing just felt too coincidental. Right after he exposes one of his reddest flags to Ollie, the man has an entirely separate emergency that makes him act weird? No way was that possible. He explained as much to Hyeon.

"Look, I see what you mean, but consider that as a possibility," Hyeon pushed Jackson, "Or at least consider the possibility that you weren't one hundred percent right about him all along," --Jackson scowled at the suggestion, but Hyeon was not so easily thrown off-- "Sure this behavior might be a little... dick-ish, but I don't think it's grounds for however you're feeling about him right now."

Okay, Hyeon might have a point there. Jackson's emotions about Ollie were akin to Foucault's Pendulum, swinging from positive to negative in seconds and knocking dominos all over the place in the process, the truth of the situation was most likely more nuanced than Jackson had been giving Ollie credit for, and all of this anger suddenly felt like nothing more than a shallow attempt for Jackson to protect himself.

"I mean, even if you're right, what the fuck should I do?"

"What do you want to do?" Hyeon replied.

Jackson hated when she did this, he'd always come to her asking for advice and she'd always respond with cryptic riddles and annoyingly poignant questions.

What did Jackson want to do, though? He thought the answer was an easy one, but as he sat with the question, every possibility became more confused. He wanted to cut Ollie's pretentious douchebag face off, but then the thought of sitting through the rest of a semester of Queer Lit without Ollie floated through Jackson's mind... and stopped the threat of violence before it left his mouth.

"I-- I don't want to lose this friendship I've built," Jackson finally managed to admit, "I don't want to cut him off, and I don't want to be mad at him anymore."

"Then it sounds like you gotta talk to him," Hyeon advised.

"That's it? That's all you have? Talk to him?" Jackson replied exasperatedly.

"Well, what else do you want me to say?" Hyeon replied, "I'm happy to text Taylor and see what she thought about Friday, but this isn't about Taylor, or me, or anyone besides you and Ollie. I can't solve your problem for you Jackson."

Fuck. He hated when Hyeon was right. Mostly because she was always fucking right.

"Why do I have to suck at this?" Jackson sighed sarcastically. But Hyeon took the comment he'd meant as a joke and ran with it.

"Suck at what?"

"No-- I-- I was joking," Jackson sputtered.

"I know you were, but I'm not," Came the curt response, "Suck at what?"

"Friends, communication... not being an absolute dick?"

Hyeon sighed.

"Are you sure you want to ask your ex that question?"

"No."

That elicited a laugh from both Hyeon and Jackson.

"You don't suck at it, Jackson," Hyeon eventually replied, "But you should try being honest with yourself every once in a while."

"Hey!" Jackson exclaimed, ever so slightly offended, "I'm honest with myself."

"You're getting there."

Jackson decided not to continue to fight the unwinnable battle and dropped it. Besides, he knew he was honest with himself and that's what mattered. He was honest with himself. He was.

"Do me a favor and still text Taylor for me?" Jackson asked, "I want to make sure I didn't commit and entirely separate social fuck up on Friday."

"Will do," Hyeon replied with a smile, "Knowing you, you committed about four social fuck ups on Friday, but Taylor has too much patience to care about any of them."

"Aw, you're so kind," Jackson snarked back as he jammed another spoonful of mediocre mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Hyeon chuckled.

"That's why you love me."

XXXXX

Jackson was resolved to talk to Ollie on Wednesday no matter what, but when the rest of Tuesday evening and Wednesday morning passed by without a word from Taylor or Hyeon, he began to fear he really did make some separate mistake that was completely irreparable.

After so many hours spent getting drunk with frat guys, who knew what morally reprehensible things he could say without giving it a second thought. But there was something going on, Jackson was more than sure of it now, and in the spirit of self-honesty, he admitted to himself that he wanted to fix whatever the fuck was wrong.

Just like the first day and every day since, Jackson showed up early to class, and just like the first day, Ollie was not yet there. Only a minute before class, Ollie stumbled through the door, looking just as disheveled as he had on Monday-- one tail of his shirt untucked, peeking out from under his sweater, a slight breathlessness from running to class, and the worst crime of all, a brown belt with black shoes. Somehow, the mixing of brown and black leather felt an action so careless it was antithetical to Ollie's nature. It felt as if Ollie had broken the rules of the very universe. Newton's fourth law: Ollie Gardener never mixes brown and black leather.

It was even clearer than ever for Jackson; something was immediately and severely wrong.

As Ollie practically collapsed into his chair, Jackson decided to try his strategy from Monday once again.

"Hey," Jackson started, extending the syllable, "How are you?"

Jackson danced around the words, walking along their hot coals with sufficient caution.

Ollie looked up, seeming almost surprised that Jackson spoke to him.

"I'm fine?" Ollie replied, confused.

"Okay," Jackson sighed, it was going to be hard to get a serious conversation out of Ollie if he continued to fall back on two-word sentences, "I was just asking because--"

Fuck. The professor started talking. Any hope of discussion drowned out by the instructions the class was being given.

Class, predictably, seemed to run just as disturbing a course as Monday. If anything, Ollie seemed more sleep deprived and more confused than before. As Jackson watched him fumble through his words, he looked at the man up close and hated the details he discovered upon inspection: dark circles under his eyes, a face that was smattered with a healthy dose of stubble, and eyebrows that seemed to come to rest in a concerned furrow.

And as class wound on in a meandering fashion that gave Jackson too much time to think, he considered the idea that something else really did happen to Ollie. This kind of physical reaction seemed disproportionate to the harm that cutting Jackson off would cause. There was no way Jackson could elicit such kind of pain in the man, it just wasn't possible.

But the timing...

The other half of his brain was protesting. Maybe it was narcissistic. No, it was narcissistic, but Jackson refused to believe that his action played no part in this change in behavior.

Class was almost over, and Ollie was already preparing to run away just like Jackson thought he might, pre-emptively gathering his loose papers in his notebook and sliding his pen back into his backpack. But Jackson wasn't about to let him off so easy.

Class dismissed.

Ollie hurriedly stuffed his possessions into his bag.

Students filtered out the door. Ollie moved to join them.

"Ollie," Jackson started, trying to get the man's attention.

Ollie didn't turn around.

"Ollie!" Jackson tried again, a bit louder this time. Any person not trying to ignore Jackson would've heard the shout. It was plenty loud enough. Ollie, however, still stubbornly refused to turn around.

Almost all the students were gone from the classroom. Ollie, too, was almost gone.

"Yo!" Jackson yelled, loud enough to make all the students around Ollie turn to face Jackson. Ollie had no choice. He turned.

God, that eye contact was deliverance. Punishment and paradise. It burned through those glasses as if the lenses weren't there. The swirl of emotions trapped in those pools of brown seemed to match the whirlwind currently raging in Jackson's heart, and it was at that moment Jackson was sure. This behavior had something to do with him.

"Ollie," Jackson said, a command.

Other students turned away, shrugging off the scene as a moment that was not meant for them.

Ollie didn't turn away. He walked back towards Jackson. They were the only two left in the room.

Jackson hadn't planned this speech, but there was an outline in his head. Point number one in the outline? Don't be angry, it'll only make Ollie defensive.

"What. The. Fuck?" Jackson found himself demanding before he could stop.

Okay, so, no dice on the 'don't be angry' thing.

"What do you mean, 'What the fuck?'" Ollie replied, the pool of emotions in his pupils now dried up and hard.

"What the fuck happened? You just stop talking to me? Out of the blue? I deserve more than that."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Ollie's voice was disingenuously stable.

"You don't know what I'm talking about? Jesus Ollie if you're gonna ice me out at least be a fucking man about it!" Jackson was yelling now. It wasn't a choice he was making as much as it was a bodily instinct, "Is this about AGR? Is it?!" He demanded, "Because if it is just tell me! Give me some goddamn closure, please!"

There was silence for a moment.

Ollie's body had hardened further.

"Have you ever thought not everything is about you, Jackson?" Ollie spat back.

"I thought we established we weren't bullshitting each other."

"Oh, that's rich. You have no fucking idea what you're talking about." Ollie never raised his voice, yet his anger still seemed to seep through every word.

"THEN FUCKING TELL ME!"

The tension drained from Ollie's body as quickly as it had come, and Jackson nearly reached out to support his weight, as it seemed one light breeze would knock the man to the ground.

"Fuck, Jackson," Ollie sighed, the words almost a part of the breath itself, "I'm sorry."

"God Ollie," Jackson rolled his eyes, almost snorting at his instinct towards selflessness, "I barely even give a fuck about an apology right now, I give a fuck about making sure you're okay."

"I--" Ollie started and stopped, trying to find the words he wanted to say. Eventually, he sighed in defeat, pulling his glasses off his face with one hand and pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. Jackson stood there waiting for more, he felt terrible for the man, but he wasn't going to let Ollie off easy. Not now.

"What?" Jackson asked before he could stop himself. In an ideal world, he would've chosen a slightly less confrontational tone of voice, but Ollie seemed used to his blunt attitude by now.

"Let's not do this here," Ollie finally declared after another long period of silence, "Come back home with me."

Jackson felt his stomach lining twist at the thought. In some way, Jackson rationalized, this must be a good sign, but his less logical side protested losing home-field advantage. Again.

"Okay," Jackson finally acquiesced, deciding that Ollie's comfort was more important in what was clearly a vulnerable moment.

The pair left the classroom.

Silence engulfed them in a way dead air should not be capable of. Seemingly pressurized, weighing against Jackson's back.

"So... Are you going to explain now?" Jackson tried after a few minutes of silence so excruciating it should've been considered a crime.

"No."

"Remind me why the fuck I'm going to your house, then?" Jackson snapped back, feeling his anger begin to spill over his tongue once more.

"I will explain when we get to my house," Ollie replied, measuring each syllable on his tongue before vocalizing them, "I don't want to talk about it now."

"Okay," Jackson responded quietly, feeling a little ashamed of his quick tongue.

More silence.

Only the sound of two pairs of booted feet slapping wet pavement followed the men.

Jackson found himself falling into his old Sunday School patterns, reciting Hail Marys under his breath in time with their footsteps.

Hail Mary

Step. Step.

Full of grace

Step. Step.

The Lord is with thee

Step. Step.

Blessed ar--

"What were you listening to on your way to class today?"

Jackson almost slapped himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Did Ollie just talk to him? Unsolicited? In a sentence more than two words long? He was definitely dreaming.

But when Jackson looked up to inquire, Ollie only looked back expectantly, as if it was nothing but natural that he had asked Jackson a question. Jackson decided to hold his tongue about the choice, initiation was progress from Ollie, and he didn't want to screw it up by saying something stupid like he always seemed to.

"I, uh, I was listening to Boygenius."

"Boygenius?" Ollie asked back in surprise.

"Yeah," Jackson admitted, chuckling, "I definitely don't listen to them all the time, but... I was in the mood this morning."

Translation? Jackson felt like shit, and they had great wallowing music, but he didn't want to say that part out loud.

"Oh, no judgement," Ollie reassured, "You just don't seem like the type."

Jackson shrugged, it's true that he did not give off those vibes.

"I'm full of surprises," he joked before allowing a silence to fall over them again, slightly less uncomfortable than the previous one.

"Uh..." Ollie intoned before trailing off again.

"What?"

"I, uh, I was just going to ask how you would feel about listening to Boygenius with me on the walk back, but it's-- it's stupid."

"It's not stupid," Jackson found himself saying before he even understood why, "I was listening to The Record, we can pick up where I left off."

Jackson pulled his earbuds from his pocket and offered one to Ollie as he placed the other in his ear, stepping slightly closer to the man so as to not overstretch the wire between them. Pressing play, the sounds of guitar riffs and the three band members singing together filled the pair's ears and Ollie smiled over at Jackson. The first smile Jackson had seen on his face since Saturday morning.

As the next song started, "Not Strong Enough," Jackson started to feel as if the lyrics were speaking to the two of them alone. The story-- someone who's scared of commitment, making excuses for themselves, trying to protect themselves from vulnerability felt so... uncomfortable.

Whatever Ollie was feeling, however, Jackson couldn't tell. His face was still, forward, unwilling to acknowledge Jackson's presence. Jackson was okay with that. He didn't much want to be acknowledged right now.

They came to the same tree-lined path Jackson recognized from his prior visits. The song ended. Ollie offered his earbud back to Jackson as they came to the door.

"You know, the guitarist, Julien Baker, was an addict," Ollie said, too casually, as he stared at the deadbolt.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Ollie offered, quickly glancing towards Jackson before refocusing on the all too important task of unlocking his door, "Seems like she's been through a lot."

"Seems like it," Jackson replied ineffectually, watching the door swing open into Ollie's home.

Silence engulfed the pair, broken only by the sound of boots being removed and jackets being unzipped.

"Ollie?" Jackson heard Amira's call from down the hall.

"Hey!" Ollie yelled back. Jackson jumped at the sudden change in volume from his companion and Ollie noticed, mouthing an apology before yelling at Amira again, "Jackson's here with me."

"Hey, Jackson!" Amira called out, chipper as ever, and Jackson allowed himself to wonder if whatever was going on with Ollie really did have nothing to do with him.

"Let's head to my room," Ollie suggested softly, "I want some privacy."

Jackson nodded, any words he wanted to say getting trapped behind his tongue and followed Ollie into his room. Ollie sat on his bed, Jackson sat on his desk chair, just like the first time they'd been in this room together.

"So..." Ollie attempted before trailing off.

"So," Jackson sighed in response.

More silence.

Jackson couldn't take it anymore.

"So have you been intentionally icing me out or am I just collateral in whatever fucked shit you've been dealing with?"

Ollie chewed on his lip in thought, mirroring Jackson's own habit with his piercing.

"So... I'm sorry," Ollie started, and Jackson wondered if Ollie had even heard his question, "I won't say I haven't been intentionally icing you out," Ollie explained eventually, "But if it's any consolation, it's only partially your fault."

"Partially my fault?" Jackson asked in disbelief, "What does that even mean?"

Ollie sighed, lifting his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose once again, his hand snuck to its resting place at the nape of his neck while he explained himself.

"So, the AGR thing..." Ollie started. Jackson felt his eyes instinctually roll back into his head despite trying to stop them. Ollie, Jackson knew, had every right to be put off by his association with these douchebags, but that didn't make it hurt any less. "It's not fair to you," Ollie continued, acknowledging Jackson's annoyed expression, "To judge you over something like this, especially when you explained the whole situation so well, but I can't sit here and lie and tell you that it didn't get to me when... it did."

"I mean," Jackson started, "It's not really that unfair. I told you that story expecting you to hate me."

"Right, but I don't want to hate you," Ollie replied, a puzzled expression appearing on his face as he tried to sort out his next words, "I just have a complicated history with frats."

"More complicated than Greek life fucking QSU over?" Jackson asked.

Ollie barked out a short laugh, but it sounded more like pain than humor.

"Much more complicated."

"So that's why you decided to stop being friends with me?" Jackson sarcastically asked, selfishly hoping that it would make Ollie feel a little bad. But when Ollie's face twisted into an expression of remorse, Jackson immediately wanted to take the words back.

"That's part of the reason I was... shitty towards you, yes," Ollie replied, quietly, "But something else happened Saturday that messed with me."

There was silence for a moment, Jackson debated simply not asking the question Ollie had left, but they'd come too far to stop now.

"What happened?"

"Jay texted me."

"Jay like..." Jackson searched for a softer way to ask his question and came up blank, "Like Jay, Jay?"

"Like Jay, Jay. Yes."

"That's--" Jackson found himself at a loss for words, not even fully understanding how Ollie would feel in a situation like this one, yet fully noticing the pang of jealousy that cut through his own gut, "Shit man, that's... something. What did he say?"

"The usual stuff... he--"

Jackson cut Ollie off mid thought.

"The usual stuff? Is this, like, a common fucking occurrence?"

Jackson found himself getting angry, although he didn't know where it was coming from this time. Ollie certainly seemed unphazed by Jay's common attempts to re-enter his life.

"Eh, about once a month, once every two months maybe?" Ollie offered, "Some night where he gets so drunk he forgets everything he hated about me."

"Goddamnit Ollie, why don't you block him already?"

Another one of those harsh laughs, abrasive against Jackson's ears.

"You sound like Amira."

"Yeah, well maybe Amira's right," Jackson exclaimed, "He messes with your head, and you let him!"

Ollie turned his gaze sharply towards the floor, it almost looked as if he'd been slapped. Jackson reflected that maybe slapping would've been less painful than whatever he just said to Ollie.

"I-- I'm sorry."

The words felt unfamiliar filling Jackson's mouth.

"You don't let him do anything. That wasn't the right word."

"No," Ollie suddenly disagreed, much to Jackson's surprise, "You're right. I let him. You just don't understand what it's like to love a person like that."

"You're right. I don't."

Jackson had never thought of himself as lucky for having Hyeon as an ex, but Hyeon seemed worlds better than whatever the fuck Ollie had to deal with.

Jackson had more questions, but Ollie didn't seem like he was going to offer any more information up without prompting.

"So," Jackson started, "Are you mad at me or Jay?"

"I'm not--" Ollie cut himself off, "Jay. I'm mad at Jay."

"You iced me out because you're mad at your ex? Maybe I'm the dumb one but explain the logic to me, Gardener."

"Jay was in a frat, Delta Tau Delta."

Ollie said the sentence so fast it came out as a single word.

"Jay was in DTD?" Jackson asked in surprise, making sure he heard the man right.

"Yes, Jay was in DTD," Ollie sighed defeatedly, "I asked him to drop, more times than I can count."

"And he never did?"

"And he never did."

"Is that why you broke up?" Jackson asked.

Another short, barking laugh.

"I mean it was one reason. One of many, many reasons," Ollie paused, but this time Jackson could see him thinking, as if he wanted to say more, "He became a different person every time he walked through those doors. He'd be the man I loved for a whole week and then... he would just disappear. I don't want to watch that happen to you, too."

Jackson felt Ollie's final sentence cut right through his ribs and pierce his heart. It had happened, Jackson could admit, it had happened more times than he could count. What was his Friday ritual-- the stripping of his nail polish, the removal of his jewelry, the changing of his clothes-- if not a process of becoming someone else? Someone who was cool with his friend's homophobic jokes, someone who rolled over and took it every time his boundaries were crossed, someone... he wasn't proud of.

"I know what you mean," Jackson finally responded, "I don't want it to happen to me, either."

Jackson could almost see the weight lift from Ollie's shoulders.

"Look, what you did last Friday? Texting me and asking to come over? Do it whenever you want," Ollie declared.

Jackson chuckled.

"Probably not the sleeping over part though, right?"

"Including the sleeping over part," Ollie replied, "I'd have you sleep at our house for the rest of time to keep you from ever going back to AGR again."

"Careful," Jackson joked, "Or I'll actually take you up on that offer. Your couch is comfy."

Ollie laughed. Not one of the strange barking laughs, but a true, real, joyful laugh.

"That good, huh?"

"Best night's sleep I'd had in a week," Jackson replied with a smirk.

Ollie chuckled again and slid off his perch on his bed, walking over to his crate of records.

"I'm going to put some music on," he offered, "If you don't mind?"

"Of course not," Jackson replied.

There was quiet for a moment as Ollie looked through his collection, before he scoffed.

"Jesus, I'm a mess," he muttered to himself.

Jackson knew the comment wasn't for him, but they'd moved beyond social formalities.

"You're a mess?" He replied incredulously, "What the fuck does that make me?"

Jackson watched the back of Ollie's neck turn pink, before the man stood up, record in hand.

"That's not-- I didn't mean-- I--" Ollie sputtered around his own words, "It's just that I promised myself I'd spend my senior year forgetting Jay, and yet here I am, holding his favorite album, fucking up my friendships over him, again."

Jackson looked at the album in Ollie's hands, he recognized the purple cover, So Tonight That I Might See by Mazzy Star. He hated that he owned the album too.

"His favorite album, huh?"

"Yeah..." Ollie sighed, almost wistful, "We used to listen to it together all the time."

Jackson felt another pang of jealousy, even harder to ignore, and couldn't help but wonder why he was jealous over a relationship that didn't fucking involve him in the slightest.

"Ya know something?" Jackson exclaimed, not wanting Ollie to see the emotion he was sure was in his eyes, "Every time I'm trying to forget an ex, I just fuck someone!"

Ollie smirked and rolled his eyes.

"Funny joke, but I'm not much of a rebounds person."

"It's not a joke!" Jackson insisted, "C'mon you're telling me there's no guy at this entire school you're interested in fucking?"

Ollie took the record out of its sleeve and placed it gently on the turn table.

"There's one..." Ollie muttered to himself.

"Who? Who!? Whoooooo?" Jackson pestered like a little kid as Ollie rolled his eyes.

"Nobody."

"You can't tell me you want to fuck somebody and then not say who..." Jackson whined.

"I--" Ollie stuttered over his words, "I don't want to bring him into this. I don't have a chance anyway, he's straight."

Jackson rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.

"That sounds like an excuse to me."

"It's not an excuse Jackson," Ollie scolded, "I'm not going to go for a guy I have no chance with, I've learned my lesson there."

"Okay, fine," Jackson conceded, "But if you really want to forget about Jay, the least you could do is block him."

The needle dropped onto the record, and Jackson heard the telltale crackle of vinyl against metal before the soft notes guitar filled the room. He hated to admit it, but Jackson had always loved Fade Into You, and knowing it was a song on Jay's favorite album had not changed that.

Ollie swayed to the soft melody as he moved towards his bed. He hesitated for a moment, before deciding to plop himself on the floor instead. Jackson felt odd sitting over the man and slid off the chair to sit beside the man.

"It's good, isn't it?"

Jackson snorted softly and shook his head. He felt that mysterious jealousy rise again and let his hair fall in front of his face for a moment, shielding what he knew to be a displeased expression from Ollie's eyes.

He finally mustered the courage to look back up at the man, who was openly turning pink.

"Block him, Ollie."

The pink on Ollie's cheeks intensified to red.

"Can I ask you something stupid?" He finally managed to mutter.

"I think we've both done stupider things today than ask each other questions," Jackson replied with a laugh.

Ollie chuckled along with him.

"If I hand you my phone, can you block him for me?"

Jackson had done this for Hyeon once before. He'd always been good at preaching casual apathy to lovers.

"Of course I can."

Ollie tapped through his phone for a few moments, before handing Jackson an open contact page.

It took everything in Jackson's power not to press the button on the screen that would take him to Jay and Ollie's texts, not to investigate the words that had caused Ollie to ghost Jackson for almost a week, but he didn't. It wasn't his place.

He scrolled to the bottom of the page and hit the "block" button, before handing the phone back to Ollie.

"And don't you dare undo it," Jackson warned as Ollie took his phone from Jackson's grip.

"Don't worry, I'll have Amira monitoring me at all times," Ollie joked, "You've successfully achieved in an hour what she's tried to do for a year."

Jackson chuckled, before processing the gravity of the compliment.

"Wow, I'm honored," He replied, half in jest, half sincere, "What makes me so special?"

"I haven't got the faintest clue," Ollie replied after a moment of thought, his pensive expression turning mischievous as he continued, "I'd say your general aura of... obstinance has something to do with it."

Jackson mocked offence.

"Well, I'd say your general aura of... being a fuckass nerd is..." He desperately searched for an end to the insult.

"Is why you love me so much?" Ollie filled in with a grin.

Jackson didn't just feel his cheeks turn red, no, he felt his whole body turn red from the inside out. Love... He didn't love Ollie, as a friend or-- No. He didn't love Ollie.

"Ew, nerd," Jackson joked his way out, but he felt as if he'd been pushed ever so slightly off his center of balance.

Ollie took the comment as a joke and laughed heartily at Jackson's feigned disgust, before sighing.

A silence overtook the pair again, yet it felt natural--like a weighted blanket, almost--bringing calm to a storm. Mazzy Star filled the room and Jackon felt himself relax into the music.

Ollie cleared his throat, bringing Jackson back from the wave of calming relief he was floating on.

"I don't want to kill the mood," Ollie started, "But I have a metric shit-ton of work due and I do need to get the jump on it..."

Reality came crashing back in. Ollie did not want Jackson's unstudious ass here.

"Right! Yeah... I'll, uh, I'll go..." Jackson stuttered out, stumbling to his feet.

"What?" Ollie's face was pure confusion.

"You said you wanted to get to work..." Jackson reminded Ollie, now as confused as the other man looked.

"You can stay," Ollie replied incredulously, "I mean, I know you act like you're allergic to schoolwork, but I've seen proof you're not."

Jackson's brain recalibrated.

Ollie hadn't been kicking him out. Ollie had been inviting him to do work together. The way friends did.

"I don't act like I'm allergic to schoolwork, thank you very much," Jackson sassed back, sitting back down, "And to prove it, I'm going to do my work. With no complaints. Right now."

Ollie laughed.

"I'm holding you to that no complaining rule."

XXXXX

Jackson left the house around eleven pm, after refusing three separate offers from Ollie to sleep on the couch.

As he left the house, he quickly glanced at his phone, which he hadn't made much use of since arriving at Ollie's. There were a few texts, but only from one person: Hyeon.

H: I talked to Taylor, she said Friday was great.

H: Whatever's going on with Ollie isn't your fault.

H: (Shockingly)

Jackson chuckled at the final message and turned his phone off. He would text Hyeon when he got home to tell her he'd worked things out with the man.

Right after he texted Ollie that he'd made it home safe.