Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sometimes, in the dead of night, while Oliver sat alone staring at nothing in Meredith’s polished kitchen, he allowed himself to revisit James in his memories. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to third year — the year of joy, of fun, the best year he ever had. When he and his friends didn’t care about anything, when Richard hadn’t yet become a dictator, when he and James didn’t have to be something, because they already were everything just as they were.

Of course, those memories now came from a different perspective. No longer the scared boy who didn’t want to admit anything, but Oliver — who, even though he understood it all now, would give anything to go back to when he understood nothing and he and James simply were.

Oliver would have loved to go back to that time, to revisit every detail of James. To return to when he and James meant something, even if that something was nothing. He wanted to go back to when they slept in the same room, when they were a family, when their friends were his family. What hurt like hell was knowing Oliver could never go back to that time, he would never see James again — all that was left was the hope that he might find his partner in another life.

He and James were something, they existed, and sometimes, for a few seconds, Oliver let his mind create a world where they were both free and together. He allowed himself to admit he had hopes for a future with him, that he had more feelings to offer than just friendship. Back then, Oliver had so much love, and now he understands that all that love was ready to be given to James, if only he’d had the courage to admit it sooner.

On good days, Oliver accepts his reality, accepts the cruel ending that came to be, accepts the ending that was stolen from him by guilt, the ending stolen by Richard’s selfishness. That’s why he just likes to remember, he’s terrified that someday he might forget James — forget his smile, his silhouette, the look he reserved only for Oliver. That’s why he revisits his memories.

He could never forget James.