Olly felt uncharacteristically jittery, bouncing his knee at a rapid pace as he tried to perfect the smile on his face. It wouldn’t be fair to say the smile was forced – it never was when Jude was near – but everyone knew he hadn’t been feeling like himself lately, not since the breakup with Teddy. Moreover, not since his follow up conversation with Marianne. And while he wasn’t avoiding Jude, not entirely, he hadn’t been nearly as present with either of the Patch siblings in the last couple of months, anxiety constantly building in his chest as he pondered his worth and significance in the life of those that he loved the most.
He’d invited Jude over tonight as something of an olive branch, feeling guilty for not having seen his best friend as much as he usually would. Ordinarily, he would be at Jude’s side at practically every waking minute that the two of them weren’t working, always bounding after him like the pathetic, love-sick puppy that he was. His conversation with Marianne had been a real eye opener, however, stopping him in his tracks as he’d tried to reassess his friendship with her brother. Did Jude really like Olly as a friend, or did he just enjoy the attention he gave him? Olly liked to think they were genuinely friends despite his childish crush, but his other best friend had given him enough pause to reconsider, leading him to the type of spiral that even some of his most abusive relationships couldn’t rival. In the past two months, it seemed only Dante could successfully break through Olly’s bubble, the Brit constantly on hand with a warm cuddle whenever he found himself in New York, a friendly kiss to the cheek to remind Olly that he was on his side. Of course, Dante was rarely in the city, so every other hour was spent forcing smiles and trying to be his usual, cheerful self while his chest felt like it was fit to explode with all the sadness it carried.
“Was the pasta okay?” Olly blurted out, lifting his gaze from his trembling knee, searching for Jude’s face instead.
It was a boring, mundane question. The two of them had never been ones for small talk, but Olly was floundering a little. He was starkly aware of the fact that he’d been horrible company all night, pottering around in the kitchen and searching for distractions so that he wouldn’t be left alone with Jude and his sad, invasive thoughts. Now, he was situated on the opposite end of the sofa – a stark contrast to the way he usually curled up with a head in the other man’s lap with no real regard for personal space – and wondering if Marianne had been right all along. Should it really be this hard for him to make conversation? They both had intense jobs, surely he could scramble to find something to tell the other man. Anything.
With a sigh, Olly combed a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face before directing a pout at his best friend. He’d had enough. No matter how sad and self-conscious he’d felt these past two months, the ways in which he missed Jude was a darn sight more powerful than anything else. Olly hated this and wanted things to go back to normal. Not feeling even remotely brave in the moment, he decided to shuffle along the sofa and closer to his friend, leaving just one cushion between them as opposed to the lengthy two that had separated them prior.
“I’m sorry I’m being such a snooze fest,” he frowned, casting him an apologetic grimace. Nervously, he reached a hand across to give Jude’s knee a quick squeeze before shyly yanking it back. “Maybe we should do something. Um... Something fun?”