One second Oliver is speaking, such raw, honest words that betray every piece of his body telling him not to and the next Ava is in his arms again. The feeling of home again. Oliver doesn’t push her away or even get rigid in surprise of her body against his; he welcomes her into him. She’s where she belongs, in his presence, in his home, in his arms, in his life. Every tear tears at Oliver, bringing him closer to them himself. Though he’s seen her cry before, it’s still a rarity. It’s still more powerful than seeing others cry for Ava Wolff saved her tears for when they mattered, thus he mattered. After all this time and years between them; she cried for him, she missed him.
It was enough to bring a tear to Oliver’s own eyes as he squeezed his redhead into his chest and stroked, stroked, stroked her hair in comfort like he always used to. It was his dream to have Ava in his arms again; she was his dream for years. When he went to sleep he thought of her returning, he always forgave her in his dreams, and they picked up where they left off. She was a dream he’d almost let go of by now, but the second he saw those twig legs and that head of unmistakable hair in front of his building it was back as strong as the day after she left Mayfield when it was fresh wound and he wanted to cry but there were no more tears.
He wants to speak, wants to tell his Ava not to cry, that she’s forgiven, but the only distinguishable words that can form from his muddy thoughts is: “Ava.” Oliver repeated it like a mantra under his breath and into her hair he’s missed and loves. “Ava.” Oliver gripped her shoulder, the memory of the time he did the same. It was fall, they were on his couch watching some movie he can hardly remember now because he was too concentrated on the girl next to him. Carefully he let his arm resting behind her fall. Slowly until it was around her, his hand on her delicate shoulder. The most innocent of touches and his heart was racing, a sly smile forming on his lips as his blue eyes didn’t leave the screen.
“Ava.” The tears were hot against his chest. He recollects her past tears their last night, their warmth, and their salty taste when he kissed them away. He’d told her it’d be okay, but the next day it wasn’t, not with her gone again. His own tears fell down his cheeks, slowly, deliberately. Maybe it’ll be okay after all.
“Ava.” Oliver spoke in her ear now, urging to rouse her from her own words like the many times he roused her from her sleep, the hum of love and warmth surrounding them in his bed. He pulled away until he could look into her eyes, puffy and red from tears, enough so to break his heart like she was again and again. “I—,” He faltered. But only once, the words were at the tip of his tongue and waned, but they come back, they find their strength. “I forgive you.” She could be gone tomorrow, but he said them anyways. She needed to know if there was another five years until they saw each other again. She needed to know because it was true. He could feel her pain as she shook in his arms, he could feel the ache as her tears wet his shirt and warmed his skin. She held onto the hurt all this time as he did. It was the least he could do to absolve her. It was not enough to take it all away, every drop of sorrow they felt over the years at the hands of each other, but perhaps… Perhaps that was okay.
“We can’t erase the past Ava.” He couldn’t stop saying her name once more, he missed the taste of her on his tongue. “But we— we can move forward?” His muddy blues met Ava’s and there was an inflection at the end of his words, he didn’t intend it, but it came and it reminded Oliver of how much he hoped she was here to stay. Probably not Annapolis, but at least his life, at the very least that. Phone calls, letters, they could rebuild what they had. Couldn’t they? “You’re my best friend.” There is a touch of desperation in his voice, a genuine innocence in himself that just wants his best friend back, even if it is a very large “just”.
