Numbers.

*Oli's P.O.V*

After Matt had hugged me, I stumbled forward and sat down on the love seat, Nichols taking his seat next to me just like old times. He had always been a little overprotective of me. All the guys have. If only they knew what Mike has actually done instead of the bullshit Tom tells them.

"So, how have you been?" Tom breaks the comfortable silence, and everyone's eyes flicker to me.

I squirm a bit in my chair, not liking all of the attention. "Erm...I've been great." I force, tacking on a smile just for good measure.

Tom scoffs. "I liked the smile, but you really need to work on your lying."

The guys chuckle and I can feel my cheeks heat up.

"Fine," I mutter, shaking my head and clearing my throat before I prepared myself to tell the truth. "I'm tired all the time. I never want to do anything anymore, and I honestly don't know what's went wrong in my head."

"Like what, Oliver?" Nichols asks, looking at me with concerned eyes. "Are you sad again?"

"I don't think I ever stopped being sad." I sigh, resting my head on my hand and looking to Tom. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"What about you and...you and..." I could tell he really didn't want to say his name, so I decided that I would say it for him.

"Mike." I finish. As I say his name, Nichols tenses, and I notice how Tom's hands are shaking. So are mine. "We're still together."

"Really?" Nichols asks, his gaze burning holes into the side of my head.

I nod, biting my lip. "Yeah. Did you guys really think I'd leave him after five years?"

"Yes." They all answer at once.

•••

After a few hours of mindless conversation and movie watching, everyone had fallen asleep in Tom's living room like one big sleepover. Of course, I couldn't fall asleep. But it didn't bother me. I figured I'd have to go home soon enough.

I stood up from my spot on the floor, and made my way into the kitchen to grab myself something to drink.

While I'm standing in the kitchen, I can't help but feel like I wasn't alone anymore. So I spun around and saw none other than Lee staring back at me with those bright eyes of his.

"Jesus, you could have given me a heart attack!" I scold quietly, not wanting to wake the others.

Lee smiles and shakes his head. "What are you doing up anyway?" He leans his lower back against the counter and crosses his arms in front of his chest. I can't lie to him. As badly as I'd like to, no one can deceive a face like that.

"Couldn't sleep. Decided I'd make myself some tea and head home afterwards. I have someone at my house right now." I say, reaching up and opening one of the cupboards. My eyes scan the shelves, looking for green tea. Green tea helps. I pull out the box and set it down on the counter.

"Why?" Lee asks, acting like I was being the most suspicious human being to ever exist. He takes the box off the counter and opens it, pulling a teabag out of it.

"He's watching me." I mutter, embarrassed. Fucking hell, I'm twenty years old, why do I need to have someone at my flat watching me like I'm some little kid?

"Why?" He questions again.

"Mike is out of town." I reply.

"You're twenty one years old. Why didn't he just leave you by yourself?" Lee asks, obviously not seeing the logic. Then again, I suppose I never did tell any of the guys how sad I really am.

"He doesn't trust me." I roll my eyes, pulling a coffee mug out of the dishwasher.

"Why?"

"He thinks I might try to kill myself again." I say, barely audible. I really don't want to talk about this right now. Or ever.

His expression changes to one of concern. "Does Tom know?"

"About what?" I question, turning to look into the living room, making sure that everyone was still dead asleep. Luckily, they were.

"Past attempts."

"No." I shake my head, knowing if anyone else found out they'd throw me into a shitload of therapy sessions. Life isn't for everyone.

"Are you going to tell him?" Jesus fuck, enough questions, dammit.

"No." I reply, a bored tone has taken over my voice. I didn't mean for it to, but it feels like I've heard all of these questions multiple times. They get boring.

"Do you want me to tell him?" He threatens. Okay, so that was a bit of a surprise. No one has said that before.

"No." I struggle to keep my calm exterior in check.

"He has to know, Oli. He's your brother for Christ's sake." Lee argues. I was surprised; he's usually a pretty mellow guy and he's arguing with me now? Good for him. He should stand up for what he believes in. He just shouldn't be arguing with me. That I can do without.

"He won't take it well." I warn, anything to keep him from telling Tom.

"How is he supposed to take it?" He raises his eyebrows, knowing he's got me beat. The smug little asshole.

"The way you are." I reply, easily. Calm. Act like this isn't a big deal, Oli. You're much more clever than him.

"I'm raging on the inside. Honestly, I want to rip out all of Mike's intestines through his bellybutton. And I'm not even as protective as Tom or Nichols." He says, taking a deep breath in.

"Please don't tell Nichols."

"Why not?" He brings his fingertips up to rub at his temples. I felt bad for stressing him out.

"He'll kill Mike." He's my younger brother, he shouldn't be fighting my battles for me.

"Mike is killing you." Lee exclaims, as quietly as possible so he doesn't wake the others.

"So?"

"So, he can't do that to you." He states flatly.

"Why not? Isn't it better than me killing myself?" I inquire, hoping that I've made a statement that pokes a hole in his logic.

"Neither one of them is good, Oli. When are you going to learn that there's not a positive solution to things like death?" He sighs.

"Never. Can you pass me that bottle of honey?" I ask, pointing to the bear-shaped bottle sitting on the kitchen table.

"Sure." He replies, letting out a heavy breath from his mouth. He hands me the bottle, and his eyes are locked on my wrist.

"What?" I ask, opening the cap. I tip it to the side and put the perfect amount in, since I have to be careful about these things.

"Where'd you get those?" He points at the big fading bruise plaguing my pale flesh.

"I have an iron deficiency." I lie through my teeth, turning so I don't have to see his disappointed face.

"Since when?" He asks. I hear the quiet scrape of the chair's legs dragging against the floor, and I can tell he must have sat down.

"Since I stopped getting enough iron." I pick my cup up from off of the counter, and pull out a chair, sitting next to him.

"He hits you doesn't he?" Lee sighs, running a hand through his hair. Hm, he's not wearing a beanie today. He used to tell me that he hated his hair, and would rather be bald. Perhaps he had a change of heart?

"Who?" I ask stupidly. But honestly, has being clueless ever worked?

"Oli, don't play dumb. Mike hits you, right?" He shakes his head, chewing at the inside of his lip.

"Yes." I answer honestly for once, praying that he doesn't tell anyone else. Was it really that obvious? I mean, I thought I was good at hiding things like this. It's only a bruise. People get bruised all the time. Why do people automatically assume that I'm getting beat up?

"I really wish that you actually had an iron deficiency." He says.

"Me too."