who was i to watch you wilt?

@wiltedflwer

𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙗𝙚 𝙖 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞 𝙖𝙢 𝙞𝙣.

43 posts

WILTEDFLWER is a dependent muse written for coyotevalleyrp, dni unless affiliated ! ⸺ adored by nikki. ( she / they, 28, est )

𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐬𝐢𝐱. 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

⋆˙⟡ intro. ⋆˙⟡ visage. ⋆˙⟡ musings. ⋆˙⟡

she couldn't stifle the laughter that rolled off her tongue and into the air between them. it was rare that she could in his company, even when she felt so coiled tight that some days she wondered how she'd make it through without breaking. "think so? it could be good, right? people love spicy and sweet." or maybe it was salty and sweet? either way, she looked at the man with a hopeful sparkle in her ocean blues. if he tried it, she wouldn't have to.

as easily as things had lightened, the mention of her ex-husband had triggered a storm cloud above the both of them, one that she couldn't hide from behind humor and quiet laughter. pru lifted her shoulders slightly, her chin tipping upwards as if her mother was coaching her to keep her head up in the face of defeat, only for the anger in her father's voice to echo in her head, a reminder that she'd caused it all. "or we could maybe not do that," she pleaded quietly, a mix of appreciation and fear working through her veins. not for herself, but for the kind man who sat across from her, gentle and accepting of everything that was prudence fleury.

"not all of my drinks are bad," she challenged, nimble fingers curling around the stem of her glass to steady the tremble in her hands. "thanks, ollie... for all that you've done so far... and for still trusting me with new drinks after the last one," she trailed off, her smile stretching wider again.

Oliver chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he watched her try to defend her concoction. It was endearing, really, and Oliver was happy to entertain it if it brought a genuine smile to her face. Especially as how the lightness in her laugh gave way to something heavier. He nodded in a silence, accepting of her quiet plea, "Okay," he said just as quietly, respecting the boundary she set without making her feel the need to defend it like she had her sweet and spicy wine. "I won't." The look in his eyes made it evident he was telling the truth, a window to his soul as he spoke in honesty, also displaying the worry he'd felt for her. But if nothing else, he'd continue to provide her the amusement of being the taste tester, though deeper down he wished he could do more. His fingers tapped the glass in a slow rhythm he made up on the spot, still not yet allowing the liquid to pass the threshold of his lips before some clarification. "And... I really don’t think your drinks are bad. Even the... ones I didn't like." He laughs, bringing the playful tone back with the cue of her smile. He softens in a way that tells her she doesn't have to thank him. "They’re ambitious.” He grinned back, inching the glass closer until he took the very first sip.

#* threads — oliver.#* with — pru.#prudencefleury

Curious, Sammie's gaze drifted to the book her friend had procured from the shelving. She'd liked the way he attempted to pair things, enjoyed that he judged the books by their covers. As an artist herself she had strong opinions about the book covers, about album covers, about any bit of artwork. "What's that one?" Her chin directed to the words in his grasp. "Let me see the cover!" Sammie whisper yelled, as though they were in a library. It was true that some novels lured her in with the depiction on the front, some matched, but many hadn't done the novels justice.

The brunette's eyes rolled, "god, no... sin romance." While she wanted to have someone to have some fun with, Sammie wasn't sure she could ever really trust again. Seeing Kaan in this town brought that feeling back to the forefront. "They just set you up for disappointment. And as much as we complain about realism in that genre, I don't think anyone actually wants it." Her finger tipped a book back by hold at the top of the spine and then she pulled it out to examine it. "Maybe mystery. I need a good challenge. And of course i finished the last one... took a while, but your girl did it, mi hombre."

Oliver squinted then flipped it around to show Sammie the cover with the flair of a magician revealing his final card. “I thought the cover looked like a cursed oil painting. Seemed kinda your style." A chuckle, then he turned the book to himself again, admiring some of the details. “I'm predicting it as... being one of those ‘everyone’s miserable and you end up with more questions than answers’ kinds of reads." When Sammie then agreed to a mystery, Oliver's eyes started to roam in a more focused manner, like he was solving one himself. "Let’s find you a new challenge, then. Something with a twist so wild it makes you audibly gasp in public?” He paused, lifting a finger as if to declare promise. “And none where the murder suspects fall in love."

#* threads — oliver.#* with — sammie.#sierrasonnets

his smile stretched a little wider and a little more crookedly as he nodded to accept the other's counter of kindness. "i can assure you, pleasure's mine, 'cause my knees would never recover from that," he pointed out beneath a low rumble of amused laughter. neither would the metal rods in his spine, but the joke about his old knees seemed more likely to land.

he scanned the spines of books silently before the other's voice pulled his gaze back to the floor where the man and a pile of books sat in wait. "top contenders," he echoed, trying to sort through whether he wanted to pick one at random or take the whole stack and hope for the best. he nipped at his bottom lip, a habit forged from thought and consideration. after a beat, he released it's hold and sighed. "is that the one you'd pick? if i asked where to start?"

Oliver blinked up at him with a smile that followed suit. His hands hovered above the pile like he was still caught in a deep thought, then he settled his palm on the yellow-covered book gently. "Yeah. I think I would start here." He lifted the book slightly and turned the cover towards Nic's direction, as if presenting it to him as something much more valuable than the sticker priced it as. "It's... I don’t know, it doesn’t pretend to have all the answers, you know? Feels human, not... like magic. It doesn’t talk down to you either. It’s kind. Sometimes kind books feel as rare as kind people." He slowly stood with the remaining pile, setting it on a nearby chair just in case the man still wanted to shuffle through. "But if it turns out to be terrible, you can blame me, and I’ll owe you the coffee and a five minute apology performed dramatically in the poetry section."

#* threads — oliver.#* with — nicolas.#nicolas-espinoza

he wasn't always so okay with asking for help. it came with age and too many failures to count on both hands. he wasn't a believer that every answer he needed could be found printed atop a page or buried in another's mind, but he did believe in taking bits and pieces from every corner of life. a single brow raised and his smile widened at the other's joke. it was enough to pull a hum of laughter from deep within his belly, the kind that quietly thundered in his chest. "nice to meet ya, oliver. i won't ever call ya later to dinner. wouldn't want it to get cold," he assured jokingly in between aftershocks of amusement that came in the form of traces of breathy laughter.

nic watched as the pile grew and he nipped at the inside of his cheek. he'd asked for help, but now a part of him feared that he'd overdone it. that, despite being ready to do better, it was an uphill challenge that was steeper than he'd imagined. he met the other's gaze when he turned, the question causing nic to shake his head side to side slowly. "not really, no. i didn't do the whole college thing, but i can imagine you had to read a lot?"

"Pleasure's mine." Oliver's softer laugh echoed Nic's own as he nodded a simple response to his next question, his head down as he eliminated books from his recommendation pile as if it was the most paramount task the bookstore has ever seen. He didn't make too much eye contact — not out of bad manners, but from just how focused and content he was to just be. It was the best of both worlds, helping others with the things he valued most in the world. It may have been a mundane assignment to just about anyone else, but as he added one more book to the pile, poor Nic probably had gotten more than he had bargained for. "So, these are the top contenders," Oliver finally announced from his spot on the floor, "Some of which I read in college, yes. I majored in journalism, so, it can go hand in hand. I know a few of these quite well." He knocked on the hardcover of one in particular, emphasizing his point.

#* threads — oliver.#* with — nicolas.#nicolas-espinoza

⸻ The walls of Anouk’s home told their own quiet story. Most of the photographs featured her with her grandparents, sunlit vacations, winter mornings by the rink, birthday cakes half-cut with laughter in the background. A few showed her alongside her former coach during training, captured mid-movement or mid-smile, frozen fragments of the years that shaped her. Her Olympic medals and trophies were scattered throughout the house, never clustered together, more like personal artifacts than statements. One sat humbly in the corner of her small living room library; another balanced near a potted fern in the hallway. There was only one picture of her with her parents, she was very little, nestled between them with her ice skates on. It sat in a slender silver frame on a shelf, subtly tucked between two travel books.

❛ Okay! ❜ She chirped, already tying her apron with practiced ease. She moved toward the wine rack near the kitchen counter and selected a bottle, feeling its temperature. ❛ I’ve got red, white, or rosé — what’s your preference? ❜ She asked, glancing over her shoulder with an inviting smile. As she waited for his answer, she tapped the side of the counter. ❛ Alexa, play some 2000s pop. ❜ The speaker clicked to life, filling the room with nostalgic melodies — something upbeat and familiar. She swayed a little with the rhythm as she uncorked the wine. ❛ I try to cook something homemade when I can. ❜ She added, placing two glasses on the counter. ❛ I used to have a really strict diet. Comes with being an athlete... I needed fuel more than flavor most of the time. ❜ She looked toward the counter, eyes scanning the ingredients with intent. ❛ I was thinking we could do the steak with a red wine sauce. ❜ Her gaze flicked toward him with a hint of playfulness. ❛ Just a suggestion… Unless you have a better secret recipe you’re hiding. ❜ She handed him a glass with a tilt of her head, clearly enjoying the casual, domestic rhythm between them already.

The medals caught Oliver's attention. He was no stranger to Anouk's talent on the ice, and knew well enough she'd tack on more expertise in the kitchen. She had that aura about her, that she could accomplish anything she set her mind to — at least, that's what she had Oliver thinking as he opted for the white wine. He tapped his fingers against the edge of the countertop to the beat of the music as he let her take the lead, shaking his head at the mere idea of spinning it on him. They were in her space, after all. That much was obvious as he didn't see books scattered about and sticky notes painting the refrigerator door. "Oh no, no, that sounds lovely," a giggle escaped his throat just before he cleared it, taking the glass from her hand. "I don't come with many recipes. I'm guilty for take out and cereal for dinner, if we're being real honest." Maybe he should be ashamed, standing in the kitchen of someone seemingly much more put together than he was, but for whatever reason he felt comfortable letting his habits slip from his tongue. He hummed along to the tune the shuffle settled on, setting down the glass to clasp his hands together. "And where on Earth do we start?"

#* threads — oliver.#* with — anouk.#anoukmeijer

thinking back to conversations she'd had in the past, her mind goes straight to the meaningful ones filled with tension and understanding. "there's a woman that's been occupying my thoughts lately." it might have been mentioned offhandedly, but lena felt the words leave her before she thought better of them. "i'd like to see her again; i'm going to see her again." she hastily added, knowing that she would somehow. "you know me, oliver." she responded to the question, a laugh escaping her before she replied seamlessly. "i am always intense. i wouldn't know how to be anything else." which scared her, in a way, how easily she let herself slip into moods and insecurities.

Oliver's expression softened at the mention of the woman, and he briefly wondered if he should pry, get the scoop like he knew just how to do on any other occasion — or if he should wait, let Lena admit what kind of thoughts she harbored for her on her own time. "See her again... like, in passing, in a group? Or like... 'there's something there between us' seeing her again?" And there he went, his nosy side winning the race as he looked at her almost apologetically for it. "I think if you weren't you, I'd worry too much. And, well, maybe intense isn't always the word. I like determined. You seem to be that, with this woman... a woman so mysterious she doesn't even have a name."

#* threads — oliver.#* with — lena.#effervesvents

— oliver emery ; art & wine festival.

"please, please just try it. for me," she pleaded, a hint of a grin hiding behind the forged look of innocence. it was a chocolate & jalapeño wine, a spicy and sweet combination meant for someone to savor. "i promise i won't make you try anything else for at least a month," she added, hoping that such an offer would entice him to try the very thing she couldn't bring herself to stomach.

after a beat, pru spoke again. "my ex-husband broke into my apartment a few days ago." it was spoken quietly, her voice low and surprisingly steady, as if the words that had ghosted off her tongue weren't weighted heavy with something she couldn't quite put her finger on. "i don't want to talk about it, but that's why i asked if we could meet up." she gave a small smile, letting the silence settle between them before she blew out a breath. "i'll try it with you. i really don't want to, but it's only fair."

@wiltedflwer

Oliver hesitated with the wine glass in his hand, staring at it like it might hiss at him if his mouth got too close to the rim. “Chocolate and jalapeño,” he muttered under his breath, a laugh escaping somewhere in between as she gave him a trade off. “Why does this feel like the kind of thing that gets you put on a government watchlist?” When Pru spoke up again, he softened into something quieter. The jokes cut short. The lightness in his expression faded some and his fingers curled tighter around the base of the glass, met with questions he tried to fight off. He didn’t press, not when Pru didn't want to speak of it... but he couldn't keep himself from feeling, the concern behind his eyes spoke louder than anything he could’ve said. “I won’t push." The words came after a moment, eyes scanning her face like he was trying to study her like one of his stories, but the deep rooted worry stuck out more than he could hide. “Just know if I ever see that guy, this wine is going some place it shouldn't. I’ll weaponize it. Jalapeño juice in the eye sort of plan." He reached across the table for another glass, poured some of his helping into it and gently clinked his against hers. “To you, for managing to successfully keep dragging me into bartending purgatory. And for being brave, and... well, here."

#* threads — oliver.#* with — pru.#* events — art & wine festival.#prudencefleury

Where: The Siren vendor booth When: anytime Status: closed. Oliver (@wiltedflwer)

Arthur was enjoying his time so far at the art and wine festival and had taken a break from The Salty Goat booth so he could explore the event that he had been going to since he was a baby, ironically the festival was turning how old he was. He had walked around the whole festival and found himself stopped at The Siren's booth, wanting to get himself a drink, watching people move around.

"I've always wanted to try some of these creative booths. maybe paint myself a flower pot or something." Arthur said as he looked over towards the person who was next to him. "I've got absolutely no artistic skills but it could be fun." He offered a smile towards the other, recognizing Oliver once he turned to look at who he had spoken to. "Can't say I would do it by myself though. You wanna try?" He asked, finishing off his drink."

Oliver had been roaming with no real destination, and that's exactly how he liked it. He made an effort to check out as many of the booths he could, to linger in safe spaces and gaze longingly at others. He stopped for his beverage at the trusty booth of The Siren and while he sipped, he was pulled from his daydreaming and turned to the direction of a familiar voice. The festival always seemed to pull people together, tourists and locals alike, and he smiled as he looked at the native and took in his invitation. "C'mon, you could still make something beautiful." He spoke with optimism lining his voice, accompanied by a nod of his head as his next mission found him. "I'll go. And if yours turns out as bad as you think it might, well, you can have mine. Done deal?"

#* threads — oliver.#* with — arthur.#* events — art & wine festival.#arthurxweaver

jameselroy-deactivated20260114

Who: Oliver ( @wiltedflwer ) Where: Clocktower Records

"I'm convinced if I come home with any more records, my roommate just might kick me to the curb." James laughed as he looked up from the record that he was currently flipping through. Though he knew that was probably far from truth as possible. If anything, he made sure to keep his ever growing collection of vinyl records to his room only. Even if they did in fact take up most of his closet space. "Looking for anything... specific?" He asked a moment later, a light tilt of his head in question as he stayed glancing over at Oliver, fingers stilled on the records for a second. Beyond glad to have befriended someone who seemed to enjoy them just as much as he did.

Oliver's laugh echoed James, peering at him between looking at the new releases then jumping to the used records for any hidden gems. Clocktower had been one of his comfort spots, always eager to see what he could find to put on the turntable that evening. "No, not really, sometimes I hardly ever am." He said honestly as he picked up his head again to meet his gaze. "Often I just like to see what finds me. What about you, though? Got your heart set on a certain record?"

#* threads — oliver.#* with — james.#jameselroy

closed starter for : @wiltedflwer location : buttercup bakery & cafe .

the breakfast rush had begun to ebb, and ezra could finally take a break before prepping for the lunch crowd. he took a breath, inhaling the sugary air of the bakery that always calmed him as he took a much needed sip of coffee. sunlight spilled through the windows, covering the room like honey and his eyes landed on a particular customer that made his heart skip a beat — oliver emery. and ezra had set aside a special chocolate hazelnut muffin earlier in the morning in hopes that oliver would come. there was a quiet hum of soft conversation and the whirring of the espresso machine filling the bakery — but, still, he was certain the other could hear how rapidly his heart was beating from across the room as ezra's eyes observed him. the way he fidgeted with his pen, deep in thought was so endearing. ezra usually wasn't nervous, usually found it quite easy to talk to people but with oliver it was different. it was a crush, one that likely wasn't reciprocated. he took a trembling breath and carried a plate with the muffin atop it towards oliver's table. "saved this for you," he hummed with a grin, taking a seat opposite oliver as he gently pushed the muffin towards him. "penny for your thoughts?" a dimpled smile as he rested his elbow on the table, an unmistakeable blush blooming across his cheeks, "you've got the black and the red pen out this morning."

A bit of a late start made for an anxious Oliver, running through notes and taking down key points with one pen before switching to the next, carefully organizing his thoughts in a way others might have found chaotic. The café was a rather quiet place to settle, opting for a coffee and a nice atmosphere than the office. He was putting in overtime at this rate, anyway, eager to finish the project at hand. Nothing usually knocked him out of his zone too easily, but as soon as Ezra came over to his table and spoke, he pulled himself out of the haze and offered him the brightest smile he could, lips then falling agape in a gasp as the plate was pushed towards him. "For me?" He asked, as if he didn't just hear the other speak, as if the whole world didn't grow quiet as he sat opposite him. "Mhm. Fueled by your espresso." He hit his pen against the small cup, accentuating his claim. "But I must say your company's even better."

#* threads — oliver.#* with — ezra.#ofprophocies

nighcts-deactivated20250720

" have i told you that my first pole dancer teacher was a lady in her fifties? it was the most impressive ting, swear i will be retired by that age " a melancholy clung to the statement, particular to a woman that enjoyed youth too much. maika could hardly imagine her own body decaying, perhaps in such belief she many times sought to never make past the forties. " no lying, you'd look sexy, sure some people would give you nice money at a club " heiden finished cleaning the pole, putting aside her cloth and spray, only to stop and stare oliver. " where should we start? you've never pole danced, right? " teaching ballet often seemed easier, safer than risking hurting one of her closes friends. " we begin with something simple, risk-free. "

Oliver followed her lead, brown eyes accompanying her every move to make sure he cleaned the pole as perfectly as he could, both spotless and dry by the end of it. "Never ever, not even in my dreams. But maybe I can be an expert by the time I'm fifty." Smiling at her, he continued to watch on, eager to watch her teach him just where to begin. It was more for fun, maybe a skill he'd never use again, but with the assistance of his friend guiding the way it seemed like a new opportunity he couldn't turn down. If he was going to break the walls of his comfort zones, saying "no" wouldn't have been a great start. "Risk free? Simple? Do those words even belong in the room with us?" He teased, pressing his cheek to the metal as he leaned forward.

#* threads — oliver.#* with — maika.#nighcts

Dmitri padded down the hall with his eyes glued to his wrist, reading a text on his Apple Watch before dismissing it with a swipe back to his biometric data. Despite the late night spent duking it out with Maika (again), he'd still been up at the crack of dawn, going on a solo run that'd kept him out of the apartment for hours on end. He was in desperate need of a shower and dreading the physical crash that would follow, a mental to-do list already piling up and making his brows meet between his eyes. Too caught up in his own head, it was merely an afterthought when he apologized to the stranger that he inadvertently shoulder checked in the hallway, hand patting their arm to keep them both steady as he breezed by. Dmitri finally looked up from his watch, eyeing his door before glancing back, about to repeat himself and apologize in earnest, when it suddenly clicked. "Hey," he began, head cocking to the side, finger-wagging in the other's direction with a ghostly smile growing, "you're my noisy neighbor, aren't you?"

It might have been less awkward for Oliver if the other man uttered an apology for running into him without picking his head up, but the second the "hey" left his lips, he could sense what was coming. Luckily, he seemed less irritated than Oliver made himself believe he'd be — just a little comment that made him scoff, clutching his notebook a little tighter. "I'm not noisy... nosy, maybe, yes, but you keep your affairs loud enough for me not to have to ask." He wasn't angry, per se, more so sleep deprived that failed to keep the crankiness at bay. Running a hand through his hair, he brought himself down a bit, shaking his head at the other. "... Sorry."

#* threads — oliver.#* with — dmitri.#dmitrilange

closed starter: oliver emery / @wiltedflwer location: booktown books

"Ok, so... what have we been reading lately?" The brunette had just brushed her long wavy hair behind her shoulder as she casually followed her friend through the stacks at the bookstore. They were yet another unlikely pair, Sammie had a way of collecting people that were opposites of her, but it might surprise some that they had plenty of fun together.

Today they were engaged in an activity that was more his speed than hers. Though, she'd admit easily that she needed to do more reading and that scrolling through socials and reading her feed like it was the morning news was not the same.

"You know... I think the last time I actually bought a book was actually the last time I came here with you," she chuckled, head slightly shaking. "I need some recs though. Where should I start?" Oliver was more of the expert here.

Oliver hummed through the store as he eyed the displays, taking in anything and everything new since he last stepped foot in the shop. He wasn't one to judge a book by its cover, but always took in and appreciated the illustration, played the guessing game of what a novel would be liked based on it alone. The same could be said for people — never usually one to judge, and it was likely how he got along with all walks of life, Sammie a far cry from himself but someone he enjoyed his time with. He couldn't help but think a world full of people like him would be too much of a bore, anyway. He took a few steps back to revisit a section as she spoke, sweeping up a book in his hands and staring at it as if debating if it was the right one for her. "Did you finish the last one?" He asked, curious if she had the habit of picking it up only to put it back down. He brushed through the pages with his fingertips, heart not quite set on any decision. "We could go anywhere with this, though. Mystery, fantasy, romance," he turned from the shelves back to her, trying to pick up signals. "Or... maybe not romance?"

#* threads — oliver.#* with — sammie.#sierrasonnets

it was the way the other called him sir that made a quiet hum of laughter roll off his tongue and not the amusement generated by his own request. he scratched at his peppered stubble, a smile now fully etched on his mouth as he nodded. "you can call me nic," he offered, uncertain that he could handle another formal acknowledgement. it made him feel old and the pain in his bones already did enough of that.

brows lifted when the other kneeled down, the absence of firecracker snaps pulling another laugh from within his chest. "not really, but i'd take your picks if it helps make the search easier." something told him that the other man knew more about the spines on the shelves than he did anyway. "you read a lot of books about communication?" it was teasing, but there was a layer of curiosity weaved into his question too.

Oliver's features brightened with a smile despite being turned away from the man, welcoming his laughter as his eyes roamed the shelves. He clicked his tongue as he gathered his options, weighing the chances of him actually pulling the right book and accepted the fact that either way, maybe the other would leave with something. "Nic, then. It's nice to meet you. You can call me Oliver, or... whatever you want, really. Just don't call me late to dinner." His smile pulled at his lips again at his own dated joke, one of many that aged him years older than he really was. He created a small pile there on the floor, eyes brightening as he found a select few favorites, all ones he's read and can form a sturdy opinion on by himself. He looked at reviews, whether certain titles were considered a best seller, but always made the final judgement on the last page of a read. "Used to, not so much anymore, but probably always had one stashed somewhere back in college." Turning around, his brow furrowed in playful questioning. "Wait, is that surprising?"

#* threads — oliver.#* with — nicolas.#nicolas-espinoza

⸻ Anouk greeted him at the door with a warm smile, clearly excited to have him over. ❛ Welcome! Of course—come in. ❜ She stepped aside to let him in, closing the door gently behind him. Her home had a rustic charm, with dark wooden tones softened by subtle Dutch decor and sleek modern accents. It felt lived-in, curated, and quietly elegant.

She led him toward the kitchen, where everything was already set up for their cooking night. The space was organized and inviting, with ingredients laid out neatly across the counter. ❛ Can I get you something to drink? ❜ she asked, glancing over her shoulder. ❛ Or maybe you'd like some music? I can ask Alexa. ❜ There was an easy rhythm to her voice—casual, but thoughtful.

There was something about visiting someone's abode that Oliver loved dearly. It felt like one of the truest ways to get to meet someone, to lean into what they loved and considered close enough to heart to have it displayed in their home. He took in his surroundings carefully, smiling to himself at a few pieces that caught his eye as he was lead out into the kitchen. It was already much more pristine than his own, like she didn't heavily rely on the same cereal boxes that lined his own cupboards. "A drink would be lovely, whatever you have." He nodded at the follow up, the idea of music always welcome in his book. He was always the type to have a record on, even when he needed peace and quiet — it was his peace. "Music is great, too, I'm less picky with my music than I am my drinks, even," a soft giggle, then his focus turned towards the ingredients at hand. "I think this is more than I have in my whole apartment right now."

#* threads — oliver.#* with — anouk.#anoukmeijer

squeezing back just as fiercely as he did, a grin rested on her lips and for one distinctive moment, she thought to herself that if she'd had a friend like oliver in childhood maybe she wouldn't be so broken apart now. the thought was slightly sobering but it did nothing to diminish the affection shining in her eyes or the way she angled her body closer to the warmth radiating from her friend. laughing, she nodded; in friendships she could be quite protective and intense. "i always do, don't i?" a raised eyebrow, a single confident smirk on her face, and her gaze intently searched his face for any sign on how he was doing before she answered. crossing her legs at the ankle, she thought carefully about how she'd respond. "i've been..." how to explain? "i suppose, as a great poet once said, 'i am out with lanterns, looking for myself.'" a chuckle, not serious in the least but sobering at once as she tried to put it into words once more to make oliver understand. "i've had intense meetings with friends lately and i cannot seem to avoid them. they always sneak up on me, it seems. it gives me a lot to think about in my lonelier moments of living. i find myself dissecting conversations more and more, like i have nothing better to do."

Oliver only pulled back if he sensed she needed space, and although he was gifted at reading people, Lena could give him trouble — still, he hoped he read the signs right as he returned his soft touch on her as she told him exactly how she was doing. He listened as intently as he always did, in the only way he knew how. His eyes spoke when he didn't, expressive and forgiving, a true window to his soul as others described them. "Looking for yourself tends to be quite the journey." He noted, having been there himself one way or another, time and time again. "What's with the intensity?" He asked, more intrigued than anything, especially with how his conversations with Lena always seemed so smooth, peaceful, like connecting with someone who truly knew you or had genuine interest in wanting to. He brought his drink to his lips, taking a slow sip before speaking again, "Maybe it's for the greater good. Some conversations we need to have, even if we don't want to be having them."

#* threads — oliver.#* with — lena.#effervesvents

who was i to watch you wilt? @wiltedflwer - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag