It began as a sinking feeling deep within Oliver's stomach, like he ate something bad and his body couldn't cope with it. What do people call that? Food poisoning? Yeah, it felt like his entire system was poisoned, dying quickly in a way that he didn't understand how to handle.

His heart feels heavy as it thuds against his chest, pressing against his throat as it lodges itself upwards every now and again. Hands shake, clammy, sweaty, hair sticking to his face in ways that makes his head pound.

Something bad is about to happen, he's sure of it. He just doesn't know what, exactly.

God, he's getting soft isn't he? Sure, he dated a lot of different women, broke some hearts, got his broken in return, yet nothing feels like this. The idea of waking up one day only to find his bed empty and the clothes strewn about put him on edge. You're going to break up with him, he thinks.

He can't fathom that.

He feels soft, because you're more than a simple notch on his belt. Pathetic.

"Hey," Oliver calls gently, his chin resting on your shoulder and his beard slightly scratching at the soft skin of your neck. He wants to hold you close, press a kiss to your neck and ignore this altogether. C'est la vie. "Don't go, alright? Stay here with me or around me—"

A gentle sigh whistles through clenched teeth, his face hiding away in the crevice between your shoulder and neck now. "—just don't forget me, dove."