Chapter 9
The next morning Oliver stayed in bed for as long as he could bear. His hunger eventually demanded he gets up. He didn’t want to though. He knew there was a kitchen outside his room, but he also knew there were other bedrooms lining the walls leading up to his. He didn’t want to rummage around a stranger's kitchen looking for food he didn’t even know whether he was allowed to eat. He didn’t want to rummage through some strangers' drawers every time he needed a cup.
Still, his stomach groaned and hurt and so Oliver got up and walked to the door, listened for a moment, and entered the kitchen.
The kitchen was sleek and clean, minus a pan on the table and a mixer by the sink. Oliver made his way toward the fridge, not wanting to search through the cupboards and make that much noise.
“Stop where you are.” Oliver flinched at the man’s booming voice. He turned to see a very buff man with luscious blonde hair staring at him, coming over from the living room. Oliver thought he recognized him but wasn’t sure. The sweatpants were throwing him off. He raised his hands above his head, aware that he was seen as a threat. “This is a private floor. So either state your purpose or prepare to face your god.” Ah. This was Thor, wasn’t it?
Oliver leaned against the countertop, his tremor making him dizzy “Hold on, I live here. Kind of” He didn’t sound very convincing even to himself. “I’m Oliver Smith? Mr. Stark is asking that I live here for a while?” He offered the god staring him down. No hint of realization lit up in his eyes. “I was with Peter? When we, uhm, were taken for ransom?” His mind flashed with images and feelings of fear as he said it, but he pushed it away. It didn’t matter now, it had happened. It was done.
Realization finally surfaced in Thor, blinking in surprise. “Oh, you the boy Parker was with!” Thor extended his hand with a smile. Oliver shook his hand, slightly hesitant at the god’s lightheartedness. He grasped Oliver’s hand with both of his, suddenly solemn. “I admire your strength in getting through that. As someone who has been in many battles, it must have been hard feeling that powerless.” Oliver loosened his grip from Thor’s, feeling slightly awkward.
“Uhm, thank you. It was hard.” He nodded, pressing his lips into a tight line. Trying and somehow succeeding to convince the god that he thought his words really hit deep.
Another man entered the kitchen. He had scraggly stubble and looked kind of exhausted. They made eye contact over Thor’s shoulder and his eyes widened in recognition.
“You’re Oliver, right?” he cut into the conversation, directing Thor to take a step back by the shoulder. “I’m Bruce. I made pancakes earlier if you want some, they’re in the fridge.” He smiled at Oliver and very quickly pulled Thor aside to what he assumed was out of Oliver’s earshot. “Thor, I love you man. What did you say to him?” Oliver gathered a plate of cold pancakes from the fridge. He was being coddled, wasn’t he? Moving over to the couch, Oliver made himself sit awkwardly, eating the pancakes cold and with his hands. He didn’t really wanna rummage around anymore and stranger's microwaves were annoying and he wasn’t even sure if he could hold a fork now and-
“So, how are you feeling Oliver? Adjusting to the tower well?” Bruce sat on the couch, not too close. He knew what he was doing, he knew how to act around a truamatized teen. Oliver appreciated the effort but, also didn’t like that he had to.
“I haven’t really experienced much of the tower and I’m feeling fine I guess.” Oliver was not feeling fine, in fact, he was feeling pretty shit. He wasn’t adjusting well either. The tower was a new space and he felt like an intruder. He felt like his presence was getting everyone else to be gentle around a space they didn’t want to be gentle in.
Bruce sighed. “Well, I’m going to be the person doing testing related to the, uh, electrotherapy you experienced.”
“You can call it torture. I’m not going to shatter as soon as you say it.” Still, even as he said it himself he felt his chest twist into a slightly deeper spiral.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He paused, waiting for Oliver to continue the conversation. Waiting for permission to keep talking.
Oliver swallowed and looked down, suddenly less angry at everyone. He wasn’t sure he wanted answers yet. “Do we have to start soon?” He said in a small voice.
“We can start whenever you want.” He was lying, only half lying but, still lying. They would have to start eventually. He’ll probably have a week at most. Oliver picked at the plate of cold pancakes, his hand shaking as he tried to bring it to his mouth. He wanted to ask where Peter was, and where he could get in contact with him. He wanted to ask where Mr. Stark was; if he wasn’t busy. He didn’t ask anything though, he simply chewed his pancake. He didn’t even know what he’d do if he saw either of them. It was awkward, after all, asking to be loved; and he barely knew two of them, despite them knowing so much about the two events defining his life.
Thor came over and after making eye contact with Bruce and glancing at Oliver, sat down next to his friend. “Banner, will you turn on that show I enjoy? About the air boy?”
“Thor, one of these times you gotta learn to use the remote.” Bruce sighed and flicked on the tv, turning on Avatar the Last Airbender. Oliver used to watch that show when he was a kid. He loved it, loved the advice and messages he got from it, despite not really remembering them now. He was thankful for the distraction, an end to the conversation. He let himself become enthralled with the episode, it was in the first season, so it was still mostly lighthearted. Lots of jokes in between the mentioning of war. He liked kind of knowing what was going to happen, to prepare for it. At some point, Bruce got coffee and made sandwiches for them all. They watched for a while, burning through an entire season. It was nice, to just watch something. To not talk, to pretend he was a kid again, watching this show after school after his mom made him a snack.
Eventually, the elevator door at the end of the room opened and Peter walked out. Oliver noticed all his bruises had healed and he brought a hand up to his own purple and green face. How had he-? Peter looked up from his phone and noticed Oliver. They both stared at each other, seeing the lifetimes of experiences they’d been through beside each other. Then, as if seeing him for the first time on a bus ride home, Peter smiled softly at Oliver. Oliver found himself smiling back.
He sat down next to Oliver. “Are we watching Avatar?! Dude, I love Avatar!” How could he just, sit there, and watch a show? How could he sit there and talk and say things without thinking about what they went through every time he did? But still, Oliver sat with him and watched the show.
More people entered, people Oliver recognized, but didn’t know. They sat and watched the show. They joked and made snacks like friends would. It was strange, sitting in the midst of all these friends and only knowing the names of half of them. They all gave him a polite smile as they sat beside their favourite of the group. Peter still sat next to him though. Didn’t lean on him or cuddle up as some of the others did but, he still sat next to him.
Oliver got up. These people were relaxing around each other and joking like a family. Or at least what a family should be. Oliver stuck out like a burnt tree in a field of flowers. Damaged and hurt surrounded by a flourishing ecosystem. He would become invasive if he weren’t careful. He went back to his room, back to his solitude. Back to remembering pasts he had given up and hopes that had never happened.
No one stopped him from leaving.
The room was noticeably quiet when he closed the door. The brightness of the living room had seeped away as well. It's funny, Oliver thought, how you often don’t notice how little there is of something until you experience the right amount. The right amount of noise, the right amount of light, the right amount of love. It was hard to tell, he thought, when you are being loved enough. No one really tells you when you're a kid. So you’re left to scrounge and fumble with what you have, thinking that you just need more than the average person, that you were just ungrateful. But then you see the other side of things. You see a bright room after living in a dim world your whole life. First, you think it’s bizarre, that that room is the outlier. Then you see more and more light and you realize. It has been too dark.
A knock echoed into Oliver’s thoughts.
“Kid? Can I come in?”
“Yeah.”
Mr. Stark peaked into the room before standing sheepishly in front of Oliver. “We’re all doing a movie marathon out there.” He pointed over his shoulder. “If you want to come we’re ordering pizza?”
“I-” Oliver stopped, mulling over whether or not he wanted to submit himself to the awkwardness of asking to be loved. “I’m tired. But I’ll join you guys in a bit.” He smiled at the man, he was still scared of asking for it. Of letting love spill into the cracks in his skin like gold into the cracks of porcelain, but it was nice knowing that it was waiting for him while he rested. While he gathered the scattered pieces he hadn’t quite found yet. It was too dark, after all.