Numbers.

*Oli's P.O.V* When I woke up this morning, I was immediately cursed with an earsplitting headache sent straight from the fiery depths of hell. My mind couldn't focus. My vision was blurry. And my bed was...empty? What the fuck? Where has Josh gone off to? Did he leave me? Was it a dream? When I forced myself out of bed in a couple of minutes, and into the living room, was I going to find Mike relaxing on the couch? It couldn't have been real. I had to have been imagining Josh, or just having a very wild, vivid dream about him. Beautiful boys like that don't just 'walk' into your life. You have to work, search and beg for someone like that. And if you're like me; too shy to do anything like that, you're fucked. And you'll end up with someone like Mike Fuentes. I can only hope that my bruises are never too visible.

"Oli?" A voice pulls me out of my thoughts. When I look up, and my eyesight begins to focus, I practically squealed when I saw none other than Josh Franceschi staromg back at me. Concern was etched onto his face, his eyes focused intently onto mine. The sound of my heartbeat was ringing in my ears.

"You told me that you'd be here when I woke up, you wanker." I give my best attempt at teasing, which was very weak due to my aching skull and previous anxiousness.

"I know I did," He says, walking further into the room. "I just wanted to be nice and make some breakfast. Turns out, I suck at doing anything kitchen-related."

"Well, I'm a vegan anyway, so I'm kind of hard to cook for. Most of the food laying around here is Mike's shit. I'm not really into junk food." I shrug. "But, I'm sure I'd be able to make you something. I make pretty much all of Mike's meals, so I've gotten quite used to the appliances."

Josh raises his eyebrows, a semi-confused, semi-angry look on his face. "Can't Mike make his own damn food? You're not his Mum."

I laugh nervously, trying to cover up the fact that if I don't make Mike all of those meals, it'd only make him mad. Furiously boiling. And when Mike is mad...well, it doesn't take a genius to look down at my body to figure out the facts.

"I'm the next best thing, I figure. I don't mind doing it, its been going on for a few years now." I tell him, getting up and out of bed.

It seems I've forgotten about my headache, and I immediately flop back down onto the bed, onto my butt.

"Oli?" Josh's voice is worried, terrified. I instantly feel bad for causing him any inconveniance.

"I, uh, I'm fine, Josh. Just a little dizzy spell. Happens all the time." I lie through my gritted teeth, tempted to blow my brains out. Nothing could hurt more than this.

"Are you sure, Oli? You're really scaring me..."

That right there was enough for me to scramble off of the bed and onto my feet, no matter how much anguish it caused my body.

"M'fine, see?" I plaster on a smile, for his sake. I was sick and tired of hearing that worried tone in his voice already. Even though I thought it was incredibly endearing and cute, it make me uneasy to think that all I had was a headache and he was so off about it. "Now, let's go make some food, alright?"

He nods cautiously, still looking completely worried as though I might fall over and die or something. "Alright, Ols, but can you just promise me that you'll be bloody careful? You're actually freaking the fuck out of me right now."

My stomach bursts into butterflies at the nickname, but at the same time the dull throb in my head ruined it for me. If I hadn't felt so shitty, I probably would've jumped for joy.

"Why? What's wrong?" I ask dumbly, feeling a tense in my chest. Was there something wrong with my face? My hair? My body?

"I really think you oughta look in a mirror, you don't look too well. And uh, I took your shirt off because you were sweating like mad and yeah...I thought you might get too hot," He says, shifting awkwardly in his spot. "I really hope you don't mind."

Don't mind? I'm fucking infuriated. But, thank fuck, the rational side of me cancelled out the wilder side, telling that me that he did it with the best intentions, and had no idea what he'd find under my shirt. I had no excuse to yell at him without making me look like a huge asshole. So I would take a reign check on that, although I hoped I'd never have to yell at him, like, ever.

So instead of a grimace, I slapped on a smile and looked up at him. I even tried to make my eyes look happy, because he just looked so generally nervous and uneasy, I was willing to do anything to get that look off of his face.

"T-Thanks, Josh. Means a lot. I've been feeling like shit lately, and I'd probably feel worse if you didn't do that for me. So thank you." I tell him, watching carefully as his face lifts up, returning back to its happy nature.

"Anything for you, Oliver." He shoots a playful wink my way, and I immedately feel my cheeks heat up in a pink-tinted blush.

"Can I g-get my shirt back from wherever you put it? Or can you grab me a n-new one?" I ask. All I'm wondering, is how the fuck didn't I even realize I wasn't wearing a shirt? Usually I'm all too aware of my own body. I tell myself that I was too focused on my headache to notice.

"You've got two perfectly able legs."

"Please, Josh!" I whine, sticking out my bottom lip. "I don't know where it is, and I'm making you breakfast anyway!"

His lips turn up into a smile. "Alright, Ols, where are your shirts? I'm not going to allow you to walk around in your nightshirt all day. I was thinking about taking you around town later."

I grin. "My shirts are in that closet," I point to the closet nearest to the door. "And why do we need leave the apartment?"

"Can't I do something nice for you? I thought I'd take you to a movie or something. I dunno, if you want to, I just, I don't know, I thought it'd be cool. Well, we don't have to, I just-"

"Hey," I cut him off with a gentle tone in my voice. I didn't want to come off as a huge douchebag. He didn't deserve that for trying to do something nice for me. All I was wondering, if I was going to be able to accept his kindness properly. "You're rambling."

He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. "Y-You're right, I'm, uh, sorry. I get that way when I'm nervous."

"Can you just grab my shirt already?" I laugh, shaking my head. Jeez, Josh really was too cute for his own good.

"Oh, right. Haha." He says, still acting very nervously. Walking over to the closet, he swings the door open with a faint creak. "What shirt do you want to wear?"

"Whatever you think would look best."

"Well, that's impossible. All of them probably look amazing on you, just saying." He replies. Obviously his confidence had came back full swing, and mine had now withered into practically nothing.

I blushed and looked down at my hands, which were winding around the sheets in an attempt to settle my nerves. I seem to fidget a lot. "C-Can you just grab me a normal black shirt? I d-don't really feel like attracting any extra attention."

He turns around, my t-shirt in hand. "Attention? Hate to break it to ya, Ols, but all people do is stare at you. I mean, look at all those tattoos. They're pretty hard to ignore, if you ask me."

"I didn't get them for the attention, Josh." I grumble, walking over to him and taking the shirt out of his grasp. "I got them because- Well, I got them to cover something else up. So people'd never have to see my actual skin again. Because quite frankly, its absoloutely disgusting." I pull the shirt ove my head and walk out of the room, making my way into the kitchen.

"Hm? What's so wrong with your skin?" He asks, as I hear the quiet patter of his footsteps behind me. "It looks pretty good to me."

I shrug, not turning back to look at him. "Never really liked it. It went to complete shit after I started high-school."

"Well, what happened to it?"

My teeth sunk into my bottom lip as I reach up into one of the cabinets to grab a pan. "Are pancakes alright?"

"Yeah, that's fine. But I'm serious, Oliver. Out with it." He presses on, and I decide that it'd be best for both of us if I just ignore him and make him some breakfast. After all, I kind of owed him for staying here with me. I mean, what kind of twenty-year old man can't stay home alone for more than a couple hours? Fuck, I'm such an embarassment. Thinking of ways I can get out of telling him the reasons for all of my tattoos, I decide on something that was better than telling Josh about all the self harm scars that laid beneath the ink.

"Hey, listen here. I've got a bit of a proposal for you, Josh." I say.

"Yeah? And what is it, exactly? It better involve me hearing about these tattoos all over you." He says. His voice has a tone in it. One I absoloutely hate hearing out of anyones mouth. A tone of doubt. A tone signaling that he clearly didn't trust me, and to be honest, it hurt. Very much, actually. I've only just met him and he thinks I'm a liar?

I forget my plan, and spin around to face him. There must've been a pretty sad look on my face.

"Oli, I'm sorry, mate. I really didn't mean to upset you." He says, looking up at me wide-eyed. He must thing I'm some sensitive little prick now. He's right though. I am sensitive. Extremely, terribly, sensitive.

"Take a closer look." I mumble quietly, pulling my gaze from his. I have a peaked intrest in my socks, and I decide to take up the opportunity to try and count every single thread I can see from here.

"A closer look at what?" He asks, slowly standing up from his chair and making his way closer to me. I was shaking by now. "Your arms?"

I nod carefully, not really one-hundred percent sure I wanted to do this anymore. "Take a real good look, and you'll see every single one of them."

"I don't like the way that sounds," Josh whispers, taking my cold arm into his warm hands. "Your skin is cold."

"Always is, ignore it." I dismiss it easily, as it was something Mike had told me a million times before. I watched as Josh brought my arm up, and looked at it. He intently stared at it for seemingly minutes, looking at every smooth, curved line of ink, and his eyes widening when he saw the jagged pink lines that barely poke through the sheet of color.

I pull my arm back, dropping it back to my side.

"Oli, I-"

"Save it, alright? You were wondering, and I told you. That's all. I know how hideous, they are, I really don't need any sympathy. I'm actually very surprised you aren't disgusted." I say bluntly, turning back around to face the now heated up frying pan. "I shouldn't have let it slip anyway."

A silence settles upon us for a few minutes, and I ignore it as I proceed to make breakfast. After I had made three pancakes, two eggs, and one sausage and arranged them on the plate the way Mike liked his, I set it in front of Josh.

"Here ya go." I mumble, walking back over to the counter to clean up the mess, and make something small for myself.

"Thank you." Josh replies, the light tinkering of silverware soon to be echoed through the kitchen.

After Josh had finished, I took his dishes and dropped them in the sink, and started to wash them.

"Hey Ols?" Josh calls from behind me.

"Yeah?" I answer, looking over my shoulder at him.

"I still think you're beautiful."