Four Times Oliver Sallow Got Caught Staring at Finn O'Connell
(+1 Time He Didn't Look Away)

1. First Day

Fifteen years old. School number seven. Town number six.

Blissby is the second-smallest he's been sent to so far. It took all of twenty minutes for Mrs. Wal—Gabby to drive him from one end to the other, pointing out all the highlights on their way. A Costco. Three chippies out of which only one makes decent fries (he can't remember which one; he hopes it won't be relevant later). A park. A Sainsbury's. The school.

Oliver tried to remember it all like he's going to be tested on it later, but it was hard. In his mind, the streets overlap with the roads of the town he's been to before, and the one before that. The first few weeks are always the worst. He still has to get used to the new rules, the new sounds, the new smell clinging to his clothes now that they're being washed with someone else's laundry detergent. You would think that, with constant change, change becomes a constant. It doesn't. Every time, he forgets just how awful it makes him feel: lost, adrift, like a frightened animal that has been moved to a different enclosure and might perish from the stress. Or whatever it is that zoo animals do.

"You're going to like it here, Oliver," the headmistress tells him. Oliver realizes she must've been talking to him for a few minutes while he was staring blankly at the bookshelf behind her. "We're glad to have a bright kid like you at our school. Your English marks over the last few years have been remarkable, especially considering..."

She trails off, glancing at Mr. Walker as if asking him to fill the ensuing silence. When he only looks at her questioningly, she looks at Oliver again.

"Yes," is all that Oliver says.

"And you're sure you want to start with classes right away? You don't need a few days to get settled?"

"No," says Oliver. "I'm all right." Probably.

"Right." She claps her hands. "Let's show you around a bit then, shall we?"

Oliver nods. He pulls back his shoulders as they leave the office. It's the afternoon; the last class must've just ended. The corridors are teeming with teenagers, a claustrophobic press of bodies that part only reluctantly for their headmistress. Oliver can feel the eyes on him as he walks between her and his foster father, like a convict being shown to his cell.

He's had a growth spurt over the summer, and now he seems to stick out of the crowd like a sore thumb. His platform boots—still a little too big for him; he has to wear two pairs of socks so he doesn't slide around in them—squeak faintly. The safety pins on his trench coat rattle with every step he takes. The leather still smells like the charity shop where he found it; he had to hide it under a bunch of ugly sweaters to make sure no one took it before he'd scraped together enough money to buy it. Now, he buries his hands in the pockets and keeps his head held high. He's too tall to hide and too smart to try. All he can do is don his armour and bear it.

The school, he has to admit, is nice. It looks older than any of the ones he's visited before. The hallways have character, even though they're marred by hideous lockers and posters for stupid clubs he categorically refuses to become a part of.

He's relieved when the headmistress leads them outside and toward a separate building.

"The library," she tells him as she opens the door.

Oliver steps across the threshold—and halts so abruptly Mr. Walker almost runs into him.

"Whoa," his foster father comments.

Whoa, Oliver thinks. The library is like none he's ever been in before. It's quiet as a crypt, the air heavy with the scent of paper and dust and the very specific smell of an old building where one rarely opens a window. Oliver knows, from the very first breath he draws inside its walls, that he's found his new sanctum.

There's a sort of game he likes to play with himself whenever he moves. It's called: What Makes This Town Suck Less? It's aptly named for the game's objective—which is, of course, to find out what makes the town suck less. It can be anything. Usually, it's a place, a class, a store. Rarely, it's a person. The rule is to find it within his first week of staying somewhere; the prize is not immediately losing his mind.

Even though she can't possibly know about this game, the headmistress studies his reaction with gleaming eyes. "And?" she asks almost giddily.

"It doesn't suck," Oliver says. He thinks he's probably the only one who hears the awe in his voice.

Behind him, his foster father gives a laugh. He does that a lot. All the Walkers do. "Is there any way to get more into this, Mrs. Wallace? A... library club or something?"

Oliver almost balks at the suggestion. A library club. Already, he feels possessive over this space, and so he detests the idea of sharing it with a bunch of teenagers. (Never mind the fact that he's a teenager himself. He feels perpetually older than his bones, except for the first night in a new home. Then, he feels half his age, small and curled up under foreign-smelling covers.)

(It's possible that he spends the rest of the time compensating for those occasions, but he tries not to think too much about that.)

"Not right now, no," Mrs. Wallace says regretfully, pulling him back into the present. "But there is the position of student librarian. Mrs. Thistlecloth is looking for someone to help her run things around here. What do you think, Oliver, does that sounds like something for you?"

Please please please, his heart whispers.

"Sure," his mouth says, somehow managing to sound utterly disinterested.

"I'll mention your name to her," Mrs. Wallace promises. She turns back to the door. "If you follow me, I'll show you the football field and the gymnasium."

Oliver can't think of anything he wants to do less. He casts one last mournful look over his shoulder, takes another deep breath, and follows her outside.

After the dimness in the library, the light outside is bright enough to blind him. By the time his eyes have adjusted, they've made it to the football field.

"This is where the football team trains after school several times a week," Mrs. Wallace explains. "It's our most popular extracurricular—game days are always exciting. Are you interested in the sport, Oliver?"

You would think that one glance at him would answer the question. "Not particularly, Mrs. Wallace."

"Oh. That's a pity. Practice starts soon, and new spots have opened up. If you change your mind, I'm sure Finn O'Connell can tell you all about it."

As she says this, she points to a group of boys sitting in the grass by one of the goalposts. They're just within earshot, so Oliver can hear bits and pieces of them ribbing each other. Finn O'Connell, Oliver guesses, is the boy with the light-blue armband that marks him as captain. He's tying his shoelaces while one of the other boys—twins?—messes up his hair. His good-natured laugh carries over to Oliver before, as if sensing Oliver's gaze, his head suddenly lifts and their eyes meet.

Recently, Oliver has been noticing something about himself. It's only a hypothesis at this point, a thought that comes and goes without any particular urgency. Oliver has to think of it again as Finn O'Connell looks at him, eyes crinkling with a smile above a splatter of freckles.

Finn lifts his hand in a small wave, and Oliver abruptly looks away.

A person is a dangerous thing to make a silver lining. The library, formidable thing that it is, should be enough to keep him sane here. And yet, as they drive home that afternoon, he cannot help but think of grass-stained knees and freckled cheeks.

Mr. Walker asks him what he thinks of the school, and he tries his best to seem enthusiastic. They make small talk before leaving it to the radio to fill the silence. Oliver leans his head against the window and watches the unfamiliar streets pass by.

A person is a dangerous thing to make a silver lining. And yet, he finds himself pleading for the second time that day, without even knowing what it is he's asking for: Please. Please please please.

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fifteen-year-old ollie means the world to me <3

happy pride month!! i hope you enjoyed the first bonus chapter! we'll be working our way from the past into post-epilogue times. there's some angst but also a lot of fluff! all the good stuff! :)

let me know how you like this concept and also if there's anything else you'd like integrated into the upcoming chapters! your wish to have oliver do finn's make-up has been Noted 😌