Numbers.

*Oli's P.O.V*

I felt so lazy. Yeah, that was an excellent word to describe how I was feeling. Maybe I was too lazy to feel anything anymore. Was I not trying hard enough? I decide that I'd better not worry about it any longer. Because the irony of the situation was that I would complain of feeling completely emotionless, and then out of nowhere and all at once the dam that held my feelings would burst and wash over me in a brutal tidal wave. Maybe I was being cleansed by them. Maybe it was just a sudden realization.

"Baby, wake up." Mike's sickly sweet voice rings through my ears, sending me into a state of silent panic. I'd never let him know how he truly made me feel though. He'd be heartbroken.

"I'm up." I say gently, rolling over to face him. Even though he's become a monster, he was an awfully beautiful one, even in the morning. His messy brown hair was sticking up in all sorts of different directions, causing him to resemble a small child. But it somehow it still looked perfect to me. Deep, dark brown eyes bore into my lighter
hazel ones, love flashing through them as he beams brightly at me. I hadn't seen that look in a while. It surprised me. In a good way, of course. I felt a pang of hope rip through me.

"Did you sleep well?" He asks, tilting his head in question, causing some hair to flop out of his face and hang in the air.

"Of course I did." I reply, pressing a gentle kiss to his perfect little button nose. "You were next to me, after all."

He giggles, a sound I used to, and still love hearing. "Aw, babe!" He swoons, getting on top of me, staring down with a predatory grin on his face. "Your neck has been looking a little bare lately..."

My eyes widen in shock as he leans down, beginning to attack my neck. That wasn't the thing I had a problem with. It was that he knew everything about me. All my sensitive spots, what I liked and disliked, even how to make me groan like a madman. And it scared me. His tongue easily glides around the area right above my collarbone, every once in awhile licking lazily over it.

"Mikey," I mumble, trying not to give in to the pleasure of getting a hickey.

"Oli," He teases in my same tone, giving my neck a little bite, causing me to gasp.

"Fucking hell," I groan, shivering as his hands slide down my sides and begin to slowly pull my boxers down my legs. I wasn't allowed to walk around the house in normal clothes. Underwear only, it was a strict rule. It didn't matter who was over. I was forced to wear my boxers.

Just then, his phone starts to ring and he lets out a heavy sigh. "Fucking perfect." He grumbles annoyed, rolling off of me and pressing the green 'Answer' button. "Vic, I'm a bit busy, dude."

I hear his older brother's voice on the other line, but I'm not paying much attention. My fingers are pressed to the spot he was sucking on, and it just felt so...good. I loved Mike, and all the things he did, and did to me. He really just needed to stop with the jealously and rules.

"Alright, alright. We'll be there." Mike sighs, ending the call and setting his phone back down on the nightstand. "We're having lunch with the guys today. We need to leave in an hour."

"Why so early?" I question, bringing my hands up to attempt to wipe the sleepiness from my eyes, even if I knew it would be to no avail. I had permanent dark circles, and I always looked like I was dead. I didn't understand.

"It's noon, babe." He giggles, giving my shoulder a little nudge. "Now go hop in the shower."

"Not going to join me?" I pout playfully. I actually didn't give a fuck if he did or not. I didn't need another hickey, to get fucked, or to suck his dick. I was perfectly fine and capable of showering by myself.

He smiles, lightly shaking his head. "I already showered." He replies, standing up and helping me onto my feet before pulling me in by my waist, so our stomachs are pressed against each other. "Don't be too long." He murmurs, leaning in to give me a deep kiss. I loved these, I really did...I knew I shouldn't. I should be disgusted by his touch, and flinch away. But I don't. I want him, and I just so happen to love him with all of my heart. What am I supposed to do about that?

"Wouldn't dream of it." I answer against his lips, wrapping my arms around his neck, feeling his grip tighten on my waist. I immediately get chills all over my forearms and the back of my neck. "I'd better go shower."

"Right." He replies regretfully, pressing one last peck to my lips before pulling away and giving me a smile.

"I'll see you in a bit." I say, pulling my arms off of his neck and smiling. I begin walking to the bathroom, hearing his quiet footsteps leaving our bedroom.

It was only a short few strides to the bathroom, and I turned around, closing the door behind me. I wasn't allowed to lock it, because from Mike's perspective, that meant I was hiding something. Leaning over, I started the water and when it got to a decently warm temperature, (more like mildly scalding.) I tugged my boxers down my legs and ripped my eyes away from my thighs before I saw anything. I stepped carefully stepped in, not exactly willing to slip and fall down.God, the water felt fucking amazing. And I felt especially dirty thinking about what Mike and I did last night.

"Ugh." I whisper, shuddering slightly at the thought. It wasn't like I didn't enjoy it, it was just so foreign to me. I didn't like to be touched, but somehow he had broken through my barriers. He was the odd one out. And being my typical idiotic self, I fell face-first in love with it.

After cleaning myself thoroughly, I stepped out of the shower. I was determined to make myself look better than ever this time. Not that I looked good in the first place. Good way to kill your own intentions, Oli. I ran a towel roughly over my body and left the room, running the towel back and forth over the top of my head to dry it.

Wondering what to wear, I decide that underwear would probably be a decent place to start. Grabbing a pair of red and black plaid boxers, upon sliding them on, I hear the door squeak open.

"What's up, babe?" I ask, turning around to face Mike, my boxers resting uncomfortably low on my hips. I notice how his eyes flicker to them before scanning my body upwards and finally reaching my eyes.

"Just wondering what you were going to wear." He replies quietly, sitting down cross-legged on the bed and looking down to the floor.1

"I was actually thinking about asking you." I admit, giving a small and emotionless shrug.

"Really?" He asks, looking up to my eye-level with raised eyebrows. "I barely know how to dress myself."

I chuckle a bit and then give him a faint smile. "Well, just give me an idea, okay? What do you like seeing me wear?"

"For sure," He begins, and I could tell that he'd
already plotting something. The bastard. "Your tightest jeans. Better show off that ass, huh?"

"Well, that's a start." I laugh slightly, pulling open the last drawer of my dresser and pulling out my 'tightest' black skinny jeans. "I still need a shirt, y'know." I state, pushing one of my legs through the pants and trying not to fall down.

"I know, I know." He mutters, pulling a few pieces of choppy hair out of his face. "I think you should wear a tank-top. It's hot outside, and you can show off all that ink."

"It's not exactly something I want to show off." I reply heavily, turning around and digging through the second drawer, finding something that wouldn't look too bad with my pants...What the fuck am I saying? Black goes with everything. That's why I love it so much.

"Why's that?" He asks, utterly clueless, even though I'd told him multiple times before, he can't seem to get it through his fucking head.

I turn around on one of my heels and drag a finger slowly across my hipbone, tracing a formerly dark pink scar that had been hidden by my tattoos. "Remember?"

He nods, biting his lip while doing so. Godammit, stop being hot. I'm supposed to hate you. Stop being cute and making me want to kiss you all over. And hold your hand and listen to you talk. I love you.

"I remember." He says, and I can't really decipher the tone that was in his voice. It sounded a bit negative, though.

I finally decide on a black tank-top with a few white and red designs, and sort of resembles gore. "Good?" I ask, feeling a bit hopeful for what was in store for today. Maybe we'd meet new people. Maybe Mike would let me hang out with friends other than his brother and two best friends. Not that I didn't like them, they were probably my favorite people in the world. I was just thinking that maybe it would be nice to meet some new people. Maybe was definitely the key word in any situation with Mike.

"Perfect." He beams up at me, standing up and quickly walking over to me. He captures me tightly in his arms, and looks down expectantly at me. (He was slightly taller.) "How have you been feeling lately?"

"Fine," I lie easily, because this was one that I had rehearsed many times. And it always worked. "Why do you ask?"

"I can tell you're unhappy, sweetheart." He says, his voice pleading with me. Begging for me to give him something, just one little thing to signal that it was all my fault and he was the perfect boyfriend. "Is there something I can do?"

Stop hitting me. Trust me. Let me do things by myself. Prove that you actually do love me with all your heart and that I'm not just your safety blanket.

"I am happy." I lie once again, but only this time, it's through my most convincing smile.