#came back from the gym to find the fucking bathroom vent entirely fell out

[sodrippy]

walk the moon was right this house IS falling apart

[rheatheweirdestworm]

A Painful Realization of a Relationship

Warning: Very long, personal post ahead. Read if you have a lot of time to spare or have experienced anything similar

Before I get started, please note that this is going to be a vent/story of the one relationship that I have ever been in, and it will include some things that may trigger people or make them uncomfortable. However I have held onto this story for long enough and after months of thinking back on it day in and day out, I need to share it somewhere, even if no one will ever see it or read it.

For those of you who don’t want to read this essay of a story, the long story short I was verbally, mentally, and emotionally abused in this relationship. I was forced into doing things I was never and still am not comfortable with, but never learned to say no until recently, and it hurt me and everyone I cared for more than I could have ever imagined. If that type of story interests you, please read forward.

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In 2015 I was in 10th grade or so (I don’t have the best memory when it comes to times or dates so please bear with me if my timeline sounds weird. I can remember most events, but times elude me). I remember it very well, because this all started in a class I considered hell: 1st period gym at 8:15 AM. Seriously who makes kids run around and do that THAT early?! Anyway, I was a very shy kid not yet out of their bubble and even though I had some friends in the class I preferred to walk alone at my own pace and be left to my imagination so I could ponder over events or think about the most recent book I’ve read. The first couple days were fine, I walked alone and would occasionally be invited to join my group of friends because they likely felt bad seeing me walk alone and didn’t realize I enjoyed it, and I very much appreciated them noticing and trying to care for me and make sure I felt remembered. However one day I was walking by myself after falling behind the group of friends since I didn’t wish to join in the conversation, and was minding my business when the person this story is about walked up. Let’s just call him Guy for privacy’s sake, I doubt he will ever see this but it’s better safe than sorry. Guy came up and at first didn’t say anything to me, but after a minute or two of awkward silence where I realized he was not trying to pass me (I walk very fast so I thought maybe he wanted to pass but simply couldn’t), so I turned to him and said “oh, hi” to pretend like I hadn’t noticed him. He replied with hi and started a small conversation to introduce himself and all that stuff like that. A couple weeks go by and we’re now walking together all the time and talking, which I was ok with because Guy seemed like a very nice person who wanted to just be friends with the shy girl and maybe help her feel more like a part of the class. I’ll say now, I was VERY oblivious to a lot of things, and that will matter soon. As the weeks went by and we talked as often as we could during class, we would occasionally have nothing to do during class and would sit on the bleachers. Guy would sometimes go over and talk with his friends and I would take that spare time to read whichever book I had with me that day. Every once in a while he would stop talking with his friends and come over to sit with me, and would sometimes ask me about my book, which was fine. What wasn’t fine was when he started to randomly put his head in my lap and ask me “can you rub my hair/head?” to which I almost always replied no, and he would persistently ask and give up after a solid minute or so. He was incredibly persistent so I finally said yes, and it made me feel incredibly awkward, but because I was too shy and nice to say anything and risk hurting his feelings I kept quiet about it and did what he wanted me to. When the semester ended, Guy somehow won over my heart.

We dated for a couple of weeks, I thought we were going to be the high school sweethearts of the class, but over the summer while he was in summer school, he messaged me one day and said he was falling for someone else. After a minute or so of talking I told him to go and be with the other person, and he said ok. When my birthday came a month or so later, on my birthday I received his “hey” message. He then explained that the person he fell for was “not nearly as good as you, and wasn’t nearly as nice as you have been” and asked to get back together. Stupidly, I said yes.

As the time went on we did become the high school sweethearts, but also as time went on everyone around me, and I mean everyone-- from teachers to friends to even the school faculty and counselors (one counselor brought me to her office and sat me down to make sure I was making clear decisions and try to break me free of him, but as you’ve probably guessed, I didn’t listen). As that time went on, he started to ask for.. things. If you do not like to hear about sexual stuff then please do not read any further. I didn’t have a phone, so we talked through FB on my computer, and he would start sending me those cheesy “what are you doing?” “sitting on my computer playing MC/watching youtube” “what would you do if I were there?”. Guy kept asking things like this, and I always changed the subject because a part of me was aware of what he was doing, and I was incredibly uncomfortable with it, but I was too nice to say no, and I think he knew that. One day he sent me a message “I’m horny..” Off the start, I was only 16. That is not old enough to be doing sexual things and even though stuff still happens at a young age, Guy knew I was pretty uncomfortable with things like this. I responded with something like “I’m sorry you feel that way, but I can’t help out with that”. His response? He begged me to do roleplay with him to “help him get off” because he wanted me to help.. This happened multiple times and so finally, being the too nice person I am, I agreed to. I was incredibly uncomfortable, and I distinctly remember one day going through this with him and having to pretend that I was getting off too, and I verbally whimpered. I was that uncomfortable, but I never told him. It got to the point where he started asking for nudes, and when I said I couldn’t do that, he asked me to do a live video of me “getting off” in front of him. Keep in mind my laptop sat with me at the dining room table in view of the living room and kitchen, where someone always was in my house. I declined MULTIPLE times, but yet he persisted. One day, as you can probably tell, I gave in, and of course I faked it. I have to admit that on more than one occasion I would try to make it real but fail because I was too uncomfortable. I was eventually caught by my family and although it was one of the most embarrassing things I have ever gone through, I was happy it happened. Until he found another more private way to roleplay. This went on for a year, if not two.

That same year he proposed to me. Yes we were still young, but he was going off to the army and wasn’t to be back for a couple years so it was more of a promise ring than anything.

Fastforward a bit to senior year, we had one class together, and this is where things started going too far. He would start to touch me physically more than he had before (before now he had started touching me in school just as play touches to which I asked him not to do, he never listened because “it’s adorable”). He would make sure no one was looking, cover me up with a large jacket, and touch me and pretend we were cuddling since everyone knew we were dating. At first I wanted to believe I liked it, and I wanted to believe so hard I forced myself to, because “normal relationships do this all the time, it’s ok”. All the while I had him believe it was all consensual because in my mind I wanted it to be so badly that I let him do all that stuff to me. I will spare you the details of how far he touched me, but I will just imply that yes it was below the clothes and it was mostly where no one should be touched at that age. Once he made sure I was “ok” with that, he had me do things to him. I was of course still very uncomfortable with this but still trying so hard to “be the best girlfriend” that I obliged. I did things with him I shouldn’t have, and although we never had sex during that time, it was still close enough but too much for me to mention fully. Just know it was too far. 

During that same year, he started asking me to sneak off to the bathroom so he could “finally try to fuck, I’ve waited so long and want to know what you feel like so badly”. I was still only 17, he was 18, it would have been illegal. That didn’t stop him from trying because “if no one finds out it’s fine”. He knew I wouldn’t say anything, i was too far under his spell and so convinced with myself it was all fine. Thankfully, we never were able to do anything while I was still underage.

Another couple months go by, and he’s off in the military for the summer. He comes back though, and it is because “I missed you so much and was so worried about you I couldn’t handle it mentally”. That was one of the only things he ever did “for me”.

That same time, the verbal, emotional, and mental abuse began.

Life got progressively worse for him, and I felt horrible for him and he knew it. He was living with some friends who supported him and helped him get a job that he couldn’t really handle because of health issues with his knee. So I came over to visit during the weekends since I too was living with a friend for the first semester of college. And there, in that place he was staying, was the first time we had ever had sex, and I had verbally told him I was not ready. He told me later he knew I didn’t want to but in the heat of the moment he tried and I didn’t stop him. I hated myself for it, however that incident only made it worse. For the entire relationship after that day he asked for it every single time I saw him in person, and I always said ok because “it’s normal”. 

In our entire relationship, I asked for sex less than 10 times, but we did it too many times to count or remember because he wanted it. Guy would tell me that he couldn’t get off without me being there to help in one way or another (whether that’s digitally or physically), and so I was doing something with him every day. If I ever wanted to just sit and watch a movie or tv or just play a game, it wouldn’t happen without something happening before or during the activity. Every time he wanted something sexually and I said I was not in the mood for it or just simply did not have the time he would respond with “when will you be free” or “I can’t get off now without you.. and I REALLY don’t want to have to sit here like this for who knows how long” “My mood only worsens when I can’t get off.. I don’t want that to happen but if I can’t get off then I’ll likely start snapping at you or getting mad over the little things”. Simply guilt tripping me into leaving class or staying up very long nights so he did not have to get off himself.

Throughout time, his life progressively got worse and worse than it was before, and he became homeless at some point in time. I personally gave him literally all the money I had, I gave him food I owned and even stole food from my family and gave it to them whenever they didn’t decide to give food to them themselves even though they did not want to because we literally could not afford another mouth to feed. I can literally say I gave him the clothes off of my back. Although he never really had anything to give back in return, he returned the kindness I gave him with sexual favors and verbal abuse. I understand that he was going through a hard time and was not quite right mentally, but the things he said should have had no excuse. We would get into arguments about the way he would waste money: he bought things that did not help him a lot, he just thought they were cool. He bought a $40 or something LIGHTER because it looked cool, but it barely worked. He bought an $80 vape because he smoked and needed something if he didn’t have cigarettes. He wasted a lot of money that he desperately needed, money provided mostly by anyone but himself. 

Last year, things got very bad, and I can’t say I wasn’t warned. I went to a professional tarot reader one day and had her tell my future, and it was spot on, but somehow I did not realize that the bad things that were mentioned were in connection with the one person I focused myself on. During my school semester last fall, I stopped caring about my classes, I stopped caring if I passed or failed. I remember multiple times skipping class because Guy texted me he was super stressed and was having a rough time. What did I run 30 minutes across town because I didn’t have a car to see? Him sitting on the couch playing a game wanting sexual stuff because he was stressed. Although yes he was stressed because of his situation, he never did much of anything to solve it except vent to me about it and expect me to help fix everything because “I’m too stressed to think properly”. He certainly wasn’t too stressed to think properly while he sat on the couch for full days and did nothing but play games. 

In late September, he made a friend. This friend seemed fine at first, and I even met them with Guy and thought they were a cool person, they were incredibly nice to me and I thought that was great that Guy had made another supportive friend. How I wish it were just that. Through the next month, Guy had started texting this new friend and doing the same roleplay and live videos as he was doing with me before for sexual stuff, and since that friend had a car, he would go over to her house and spend the night and get all kinds of sexual things from her and return the favor. I instantly knew what was up, but I was too ignorant and oblivious to really believe it despite all the proof. Whenever I was convinced enough to confront Guy about it, I was met with verbal abuse. Keep in mind, we were still engaged. Next thing I know, Guy was asking if I wanted to do “things” with the new friend. Excuse me? Of course off the bat I said no, but I think you guys know where this story is going if you’ve learned how hard it is for me to keep saying no. After literal weeks of him begging over and over I finally started to break but under the condition I never had to see him do anything with her. In the end thankfully I never did anything with her, but that’s because I finally was able to prove that Guy and she were doing things behind my back. What’s worse is the friend had a girlfriend, and the girlfriend was told that I was ok with it, but when she found out I wasn’t she didn’t care and even wanted to do things with Guy too. If only I had left while I still could and while everyone who knew what Guy had done was screaming at me to do.

I asked Guy if he saw his future with me, who had literally given up everything to him when he gave so little in return, or if he saw his future with the new friend and her girlfriend. At first he said the friend, but later when I asked again he denied he did, because he started to realize I was finally thinking about leaving. Emotional abuse ensued, and he cussed me out more than ever before, saying things like “That’s not what a fucking fiance would do” and whenever I confronted him about him doing things with the friend I asked him strictly not to, he would respond with “it’s my decision as an adult to do things with whomever I like”.... Yes the person who is engaged can do whatever he likes with whomever he likes and can say things like that to the fiance. Totally acceptable.. (can you feel my sarcasm from here?). 

January, I finally put my foot down and told him I needed to break up with him so that I could focus on me and fix everything I had broken in our time together and fix the completely broken me. When he realized I was serious, he emotionally abused me-- whether on purpose or not-- and tried to convince me to stay with him, because at that point he didn’t have that friend around anymore because they too had to focus on school and didn’t have anyone to be there physically. I felt absolutely horrible for leaving him, but in the end I did it and told him firmly not to contact me and that if I ever could get my life back together then I would CONSIDER coming back ONLY if he could fix himself and become the actual responsible adult he claimed to be while he cheated on me in front of me. 

I still am haunted by these memories and more that I did not mention. I am still fighting so hard to fix what I had so stupidly let break. I am trying so hard to feel like myself and figure out who I really am beneath all the lies I forced myself to believe so hard that I left logic behind. And sadly, a part of me

My only advice to you or anyone who hasn’t gotten this far without falling asleep or getting bored of reading is don’t let a single person tell you what to do or guilt trip you or make you feel as worthless as I did. I learned my lesson the most painful way that no matter how hard someone pushes, you have to say no or risk being walked over so hard that it breaks you.

Please don’t let anything like this happen to you, or anyone else you know.

[gashinamoon]

Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon week 13: Sleepless

Words: 3261

Tags: Heavy angst, PTSD, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort 

Week 13 submission for the OHFAT hosted by @thebookjumper!

Notes: I wasn't sure whether or not to write this because I knew the process would be upsetting and triggering, just like the first thing I ever posed in this collection of fics. But I've been going through some stuff and as you know, writing is like therapy for me. So I wrote this anyway. 

You'll probably want to read this first but I guess this could work as a stand alone fic too.

Much like the first chapter, it's not an uplifting read but it does have somewhat of a happy ending. So I hope you enjoy this anyway! Please let me know what you think once you're done :)

Read on AO3

Life continued on as normal. Or at least, it tried to.

Felicity went to work, went to meetings, went grocery shopping (mostly online but it was still shopping), went down to the bunker and worked with the team, went to a yoga class, called her mom, paid her bills and scheduled an appointment with her dentist that she’d been putting off for weeks.

During the day, she was mostly okay. There had been a couple of moments where she wasn't, but they were just moments. Momentary lapses in time where her reality shifted and she couldn't remember how to breathe properly.

Like the time Oliver, John, Dinah and Rene had been out on a mission and she’d been assisting them from her computer just like she did every night. They were almost out of the clear and ready to head home when there'd been an explosion that none of them had been expecting and Felicity hadn't been able to pick up on any of her programmes and all of a sudden her vision had gone black and her ears had started ringing and she’d known she should do something, help the others get out of there by directing them to the nearest safe exit or activate the building’s sprinkler systems in case anything caught fire from the blast. But she hadn't been able to. She’d just frozen, unable to hear anything but the ringing in her ears, unable to see anything but thick, black smoke that wasn't even there, her shaking hands hovering over her keyboard, completely useless. It had taken a good 40-50 seconds before she could bring herself to focus on what was real, on breathing, on getting her friends out of danger. She’d known her friends had been calling her name, asking her where to go, asking her to get them out of there, and when she hadn't been able to respond, when she’d given them nothing but silence for half a minute, they’d started to worry that something had happened to her. She knew they were calling her name, she knew they were asking her if she was okay, but she still hadn't been able to answer because if she opened her mouth, she knew it would fill with smoke and she wouldn't be able to breathe. She vaguely remembered Oliver yelling some brief instructions to them and then their lines went dead, only his left on. He’d said her name then, so softly.

“Felicity. Felicity, listen to me. We’re okay. You’re okay.”

He’d just known. He’d known why she wasn't responding, why she couldn't, why the unexpected explosion had affected her this way.

“No one is hurt, okay? But we could really use your help getting out of here just in case there's anything else we can’t see. Can you do that?”

Slowly, his voice had brought her back to reality. Slowly, she’d squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten, bringing herself out of the smoke and the screams and back into her chair at her desk where the only sounds were the whirring of her computers and the hissing of the air vents and she knew she was safe. Slowly, she’d opened her eyes and focused on the screen in front of her, scanning over the entire building, finding a secure route for them to take and checking it four times until she was absolutely sure it was safe before she told them which way to go.

She’d left and gone home before they returned, not wanting any of them to see the mess she was in, not wanting any of them to ask questions. She wasn't sure whether or not Oliver had told them what had happened to her or if they still believed she’d left before the bomb had gone off. She didn't care. As long as they didn't ask, she didn't care whether they knew or didn't know. As long as they thought she was fine, she didn't care.

Because she was fine. She was.

During the day. Mostly.

But night always came no matter how hard she tried to pretend it didn't exist by keeping all the lights on and turning up the TV so loud she was sure the neighbours could hear it; obnoxious comedy shows that weren't even funny. She forced herself to watch them and forced herself to laugh at them until the early hours of the morning.

But eventually she had to sleep. Of course she had to sleep.

And then the nightmares would come.

They were always the same. For two weeks they were always the same.

Loud music and singing and dancing and smiling and laughing and screaming and crying and coughing and struggling to breathe and panic and blood, so much blood, none of it hers even though her hands were covered in it, pained faces looking right at her, begging her to save them, to help them, to do something, to make it stop.

She always woke up drenched in her own cold sweat, gasping for breath, her fingers numb from digging them into her skin so hard, almost as if she’d been trying to claw her way out of herself, her heart hammering painfully against her ribcage as though it would burst right out any second and everything would finally stop.

Sometimes, she almost hoped it would.

The first couple of nights, she managed to coax herself back to sleep. She’d prop her tablet up on her bedstand and watch mindless documentaries about the ocean, the mountains, the sky, until she somehow fell back into a restless sleep.

Sometimes there would be just one nightmare and she’d wake up with her alarm hours later when morning came. But sometimes there would be two nightmares. Sometimes three.

Eventually, Felicity stops sleeping all together.

Instead, she starts working out. She joins the gym a few blocks away because it's open 24 hours and rather than go to bed at night, she starts running on the treadmill and lifting weights and punching dummies until she's exhausted.

Instead, she orders books and jigsaws and model airplanes and sits at her dining room table with them, chugging cup after cup of coffee until the sun comes up.

Instead, she starts taking apart small appliances in her home just so she can build them back together again, her kitchen floor covered in wires and screws and circuit boards until her eyes lose focus and she starts to get a headache.

Instead, she sits on her couch and stares at the TV even when it isn't turned on.

Instead, she feels herself going crazy.

She knows people notice.

She knows her assistant at work notices that she's drinking three times as much coffee as usual and wearing three times as much makeup to hide the dark purple skin under her eyes and the blemishes on her cheeks.

She knows her mom notices in her voice that she isn't sleeping, she knows that she notices her fake enthusiasm, the lies she tells her about what she's been up to and how she's been doing.

She knows Dinah and Rene notice how tired she is and she knows they worry because neither of them make jokes around her anymore, and she knows John notices too because he hugs her a little tighter whenever she says goodnight and heads home.

She knows Oliver notices the exhaustion that runs through her bones because he looks at her, he never stops looking at her, but he barely says a word.

Not since that night, that night on her balcony where she slept without nightmares for the last time, safe and warm on his lap with her head against his chest, his strong heartbeat right by her ear lulling her into a dreamless sleep.

She doesn't know what makes her snap.

She doesn't know why all of a sudden on a Thursday at 2am she can't take anymore.

She doesn't know why she's crying and feeling like hitting her head against the wall.

She just knows that she needs to sleep. She needs to sleep so fucking badly that she feels like she’ll die if she doesn't.

But she can't sleep now. Her body doesn't know how. She's spent the last two weeks fighting sleep with everything in her and surviving on tiny 10 minute naps in the middle of the afternoon in the bathroom next to her office where she knows she can't stay long.

But she can't do that anymore. She needs to sleep. She needs to sleep or she really will go insane.

If she hasn't already.

And so that's why she doesn't think twice about leaving her apartment in the middle of the night and walking the 12 blocks to the bunker. It isn’t until it starts to rain that she even realises she’s out in the street. She doesn't put on a coat. She's surprised she even remembers to put on shoes.

That's why she doesn't even consider the fact that Oliver is still sleeping down there; her brain skips over that part completely. Because she just knows she needs something that will make her sleep, that will knock her out completely into a sleep so deep she's sure the nightmares won't be able to reach her and she’ll do anything to get it.

She's sure there's something like that in their medicine cabinet. She's sure of it. There has to be something. Anything. Hell, she’ll even take one of Oliver’s tranquilliser arrows at this point if she can't find anything else.

She takes the elevator down to the bunker and heads over to the med bay on autopilot, not registering anything about her surroundings or paying any actual attention to where she's going. She's made this journey a thousand times over the last few years and she's grateful because she really doesn't have any extra brain capacity left to have to think about the direction she has to go in.

She’s just so tired.

She’s been bent down looking through the medicine cabinet, mumbling to herself under her breath, emptying drawer after drawer and throwing it all on the floor trying to find what she’s looking for for around five minutes when she hears a noise behind her. She stops what she's doing and goes quiet and it isn't until then that she remembers that Oliver is living down there, that she's probably woken him, that she somehow has to explain what she's doing without sounding absolutely insane.

But then she remembers why came here, how tired she is, how much she just wants to go home and sleep without nightmares and she doesn't even care about explaining herself. She just goes back to what she was doing before, pulling open another drawer and starting to empty the contents of it onto the floor, checking the backs of packets and boxes and containers for anything that will help her sleep.

She doesn't hear Oliver approaching her. She doesn't even know he's there or that he's moved until she feels his hand on her shoulder, softly touching her. She jumps at the contact and pulls away from him, and she doesn't know why.

“Felicity.”

He whispers her name and it makes her shudder.

She doesn't respond, just keeps on looking until she gets to the last drawer. She's halfway through emptying it when Oliver says,

“If you tell me what you're looking for, I could probably help.”

But she knows it's no use because she’s almost emptied the drawer and there's nothing in there. She can’t believe there's nothing. She stands up, not bothering to clear away the mess she's made, not sure she even has the energy anyway. Her brain is running at 1000 miles a minute and she's genuinely considering trying to steal something from Star City hospital and she still hasn't said anything to Oliver because she has nothing to say, she can't explain anything because she has no idea what she's even doing anymore.

“It's fine, we don't have any,” she says, because she knows she needs to say something.

Oliver doesn't respond, he just looks at her, the way he's been looking at her for the last three weeks.

Like he's about to lose her any second.

“I should get back. I really need to-”

“Sleep. You need to sleep, right? That's why you were here? You were looking for something to help you sleep? Because you've been having nightmares so real and terrifying that you’re scared to even close your eyes in the day time, let alone at night, right?”

She looks at him, seeing nothing but pain and understanding in his eyes. She hates that he knows what she's going through, how she's feeling, but a part of her feels comforted that she's not alone.

Except she is. She is alone. She can't talk to anyone about this, and especially not Oliver because they don't talk like that, not anymore. Especially not Oliver because he’s been through his own pain and trauma too many times to count and she’d rather die than contribute anymore to that.

“I just… I have a headache.”

She both sees and hears Oliver sigh at her lie. “I'm sure you have painkillers at home.”

“It's a really bad headache.”

“You don't have to lie to me, Felicity. I just want to help you.”

“You can't,” she whispers.

The truth of her own words hit her and she fights back a sob.

She wants to leave. She needs to leave. If she doesn't leave soon she's going to cry and she doesn't want to do that here. She wants to do that at home where no one can hear her or see her. Her chest is hurting and her eyes are burning with the force of which she's trying to hold everything back. It's exhausting her. So she says,

“Goodnight, Oliver.”

She tries to walk away from him, deep down knowing he won't just let her walk home again but trying anyway, turning away and crossing the room. She’ll run if she has to. She just needs to get home.

But she doesn't get far. She takes around three steps before her legs feel too heavy and the pain and exhaustion is suddenly too much and she can't even hold herself up anymore.

She doesn't remember falling to the floor. She wonders if she's imagining the whole thing, if this entire night is a dream.

But the cold floor against her flushed skin feels real, that she's sure of. And if she wasn't sure of anything before, Oliver’s warm hands on her skin are real, she knows they are, because nothing has ever felt more real in all her life.

She knows she tries to pull away, to stand up, but she can't, she just can't because suddenly she's exactly where she needs to be.

She stops fighting everything then.

She just lets herself fall into him, knowing he’ll catch her no matter what, and gives up pretending she's fine.

Because she's not fine. Not at all.

“I just feel like I'll be like this forever, like it's never going to go away, like I'll be terrified for the rest of my life and I don't know how to live with that,” Felicity cries against his chest, not feeling like she's making any sense but knowing that Oliver will understand anyway. “I haven't slept in two weeks because it's so much worse at night and I just… I don't know what to do anymore,”

Oliver makes shushing sounds by her ear, his arms wrapped around her stroking her back softly, rocking them slightly backwards and forwards. His actions soothe something inside her but she can't stop crying, her body wracked with ugly and uncontrollable sobs that almost hurt.

“Tell me it goes away, please. Even if you have to lie to me, just please tell me it all stops eventually,” she sobs, almost choking on her own words as she says them.

“I promised myself I would never lie to you again, Felicity. But I can promise you that it won't always be this bad, okay? Because even though I still have nightmares sometimes where I'm trapped in a cage and my heart rate increases and I can't relax whenever there's a storm and sometimes on certain days of the year I can't stop picturing my mother dying in front of my eyes, it's not as bad as it used to be. It hurts, but I get through it. And you will to. I promise with my whole heart that you will. Because you're the strongest person I know and you can get through anything.”

She shivers at his words.

She believes him. Mostly, anyway. The fact that Oliver is even here sometimes is proof enough that it must get easier at some point because there's no way any human could live with that much pain otherwise. Not even Oliver.

They don't speak again for a long time. They just sit there on the floor, holding onto each other like their lives depend on it. Felicity doesn’t let herself think about anything other than how safe she feels for the first time in three weeks. She doesn't think about what that means or what will happen tomorrow or how she’s going to get to the part where things are easier. Right now, she doesn't need to. Because she knows she's safe for now. And her brain and body have been needing this feeling so much.

Eventually, she stops crying. But even then, she doesn't let go of Oliver and he doesn't let go of her either.

“You were right, earlier. About what you said. About the nightmares and stuff. I was down here looking for something that would knock me out enough so that I wouldn't be able to dream.”

“I know. But I also know that nothing works anyway, Felicity. Or at least, I've never found a sleeping pill strong enough to stop nightmares. For me, I just had to let them run their course and eventually, I had more and more days in between where I could sleep without them. And now, I only get them every once in awhile. They're still just as terrifying but they're… less. They happen less and that's what's important for me to remember. Because when they're happening and they feel like they'll never stop and I'll be trapped inside them, eventually they end anyway and I get up and go to work just like everyone else in the world. And that comforts me, you know?”

Felicity nods, because even though she's never had nightmares quite like Oliver’s or even quite like the ones she's been having recently, she has had them before, usually about Haven Rock or about being paralysed again, and just like Oliver said, eventually they end. They always do. Eventually she wakes up and she pours herself a coffee and even though she never forgets them, she lives her life anyway.

She isn't sure when she falls asleep. She isn't sure when Oliver must have picked her up and carried her over to his bed either.

But it doesn't matter. What matters is that when she wakes up hours later as the sun is rising, she isn't alone and she knows she hasn't been all night, not even for a second.

Because for the first time in three weeks, there have been no nightmares.

Felicity turns over and lets herself drift back to sleep again. She isn't sure whether she’s dreaming or not when she feels Oliver’s lips on her forehead.

She doesn't mind either way.

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