The flight from Paris to Sheffield wasn't that long, under ninety minutes, but every minute felt like and hour and the flight felt like it went on forever. I was teary the whole time, desperate to get there, desperate to hold Oli in my arms and comfort him... I didn't care what he'd said about wanting to be alone and not wanting to be with me because I knew he didn't mean it.
Micky picked me up at the airport, waiting at the gate for me so that we could get straight over to Oli's place. He didn't really know any more about what happened than I did, but he seemed pretty concerned and that only made me worry more.
When we pulled up at the house, I didn't bother taking anything from the car, I just jumped out and raced inside. I didn't want to overwhelm Oli but I had to see him. I had to know he was OK. I saw Jordan before I saw Oli; but as soon as my eyes landed on him, sitting on the couch in a ball just staring into oblivion, I burst into tears. He looked shattered. He looked dishevelled. His hair was a mess and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. He looked empty and void and his eyes were so red, like he'd been crying for hours. "Baby..." I said through my tears. Oli looked at me and for a moment it was like he didn't even know who I was, like his mind was taking a second to catch up, but then he burst into tears. I immediately rushed over and wrapped my arms around him, holding onto him like I was too afraid to ever let go.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I'm here for you." I replied.
"You're meant to be doing that Paris thing." he stated.
"Well I'm not. I wanted to be here with you." I replied.
"Why? I don't deserve it." he said, clearly hurting.
"Because I love you and you need me." I replied. He was quiet for a moment.
"I fucking ruin everyone's lives." he mumbled. Poor Oli. He must have felt so bad.
"You don't. You make life so much better, especially mine." I said reassuringly. I needed to inject some positivity into him because it was clear that he had absolutely none. "I love you, Oli. I love you more than anything. I would have flown from the other side of the world to be here with you." I said. "Nothing is more important to me than you. Absolutely nothing." I added. Oli finally put his arms around me and just completely broke down on my shoulder. I glanced up at Jordan who was on the other side of the room and he forced a small smile, I was hoping that was a sign that maybe I had gotten through to Oli, but I wasn't sure and I wasn't going to rush him into talking.
Oli cried and cried, but I sat there holding onto him for at least twenty minutes. He had gone silent after that, but I could feel his heart still racing. I didn't want to let go of him, I wanted to make it impossible for him to feel alone or to feel like I didn't want to be there. I wanted to literally smother him in love so that he would maybe not feel so fucking terrible. He eventually pulled himself away from me and he looked absolutely exhausted, but at least he now looked present; he didn't look empty like he did when I'd first seen him. "Oli, I love you. I loved you yesterday, I love you today, and I'll love you tomorrow. I will never stop loving you and I'm going to pretend you never broke up with me because I don't want that, and I know you don't either." I said.
"I don't deserve you." he stuttered.
"Yes, you do. We deserve each other." I stated firmly. He just looked at me with such sad eyes.
"I love you." he said quietly.
"I love you too." I replied before kissing him gently, for more reassurance.
I asked Oli to go and splash some water on his face and while he did, I asked Jordan and Micky if they wanted to head home. I wasn't going to let Oli out of my sight, so they didn't need to keep babysitting him unless they wanted to be there. We hugged and I thanked them for what they'd done then they told me to call if I needed anything. I appreciated that. I went to the bathroom and wrapped my arms around Oli as he stood in front of the sink, staring at himself in the mirror like he was looking for something, and he broke down again once I was there. I turned him around and pulled him into me, stroking his back as he cried once again. "It's OK, baby, just let it out." I said gently.
"I'm sorry, I just can't stop." he said into my shoulder. "I feel so fucking guilty." he admitted.
"I understand and it's OK. Feel your feelings and cry as much as you need, I'm not going anywhere." I reassured him. I hoped I was getting through to him.
Once he'd calmed down again, I took him to our bed and he cuddled up to me the way I usually cuddled him; his head on my chest, his arms around me and mine around him as much as I could manage. It was only 7pm, but it was clear that he hadn't slept the night before and despite his guilt, sadness and other emotions, he fell asleep within a few minutes of being in that bed with me. I stroked his hair and just laid there with him, just hoping that he'd feel a little better when he woke in the morning.
Oli was fast asleep until around 4am when he started getting restless and woke me when he got out of bed. I heard him in the bathroom and listened out for crying, but he came back straight away and I just looked at him as he laid back down next to me. "I'm sorry I woke you." he said as he looked at me. "It's OK. I don't mind." I replied as I found his hand and squeezed it. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked gently. Oli just kind of looked at me and I could see the tears in his eyes again. "We can talk later, you should go back to sleep." he replied. I slid over right close to him and put my arm around his torso. "I've slept enough. Talk to me." I said before kissing him softly, just to reassure him even more. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and started talking.
Oli told me everything. He told me every single detail of what had happened the time he had overdosed, and everything he knew about his friend's almost identical situation. He reminisced on their friendship and got upset a couple of times, he apologised for trying to break up with me and he told me why he'd done that; because he felt like he didn't deserve to be happy... that I deserved someone who wouldn't go off the deep end the way he had. Of course, I told him I would never leave him because of anything like that and he thanked me for supporting him. He didn't need to. He told me exactly how he felt, that he felt himself slipping back into negative thoughts, and then he told me that he thought he should speak to a psychologist again. He assured me that he didn't usually feel the way the was feeling, that it wasn't usual, but he needed help with processing the guilt and trauma of losing his friend. Of course, I told him I would support him and it wasn't until 7am that he suggested we get out of bed. He had talked and shared his darkest feelings and demons with me for three hours, and after getting it all off of his chest, he actually seemed a lot better. Sleep, comfort and talking about it had clearly made him feel a bit lighter.
With Oli seemingly doing OK, I told him to take a hot shower while I made him breakfast. He needed to eat because I'd heard his stomach grumble a few times in the bed, and a shower would definitely make him feel better too. He hugged me in a way where he felt heavy and limp, and I kissed his cheek as he flopped his head onto my shoulder beside the bed. "Thank you for being here with me." he said against my skin. "I'm really sorry I ruined your big meeting." he added.
"Don't worry, I would rather be here with you, and there will be other jobs." I replied. I guess deep down I knew there wouldn't ever be any quite as big as the one I'd lost, but it was a sacrifice I'd make again and again for Oli. He would always be more important to me.
With Oli showering, the toast in the toaster and the coffee machine warming up, I decided to finally check in with Luiz. I hadn't looked at my phone since I'd landed in Sheffield, so of course I had a bunch of messages from him. Most of them were kind words and well wishes saying he hoped Oli was feeling better and asking if I was OK, but there was one informing me that he'd cancelled the meeting, the one that was meant to be starting in a couple of hours. He'd said that they were pretty pissed off about it but that was hardly surprising seeing as they'd shelled out for hotel rooms and cleared their busy schedules to see me. I couldn't worry about it though because my worry was all for Oli - for a while at least. "Maybe I can call them and explain that I had a family emergency?" I replied to Luiz' text.
"I don't think there's any point. They won't care about your excuses. You know what the French are like... if they feel rejected, they don't ever forgive you." he replied with a sad face. I knew I had fucked up, but I still wanted to try and apologise, so I asked Luiz to give me his contact. I sent an email to the company and also left a voicemail with the woman who had organised my meeting apologising and simply stating that I had an emergency situation at home. Luiz was probably right in saying that they wouldn't care about my excuse, but I wanted to apologise anyway because I hated letting people down and I honestly felt bad for wasting their time.
Oli went to his psychologist that day. He had one in Sheffield that he'd been to regularly over the past year, though he hadn't been in a few months. He managed to schedule an emergency 'crisis' meeting plus another for the following day too, and while I offered to go with him for support, he said he'd be OK on his own so I didn't push. I drove him to the appointment and waited in the car to drive him home, then I spent the entire day with him; barely letting him out of my sight, even though he seemed a million times better after his first session. Once we were at home, I got him to play with the dogs hoping it would cheer him up, I sat with him and helped him write lyrics about his feelings, I listened to stories about his friend and how they'd met in high school and I held him when his emotion spilled over. I could tell he was feeling a lot better twenty four hours after I'd arrived there, but I still wasn't sure if I would be comfortable leaving him again in a couple of days for my commitments in Madrid. I really didn't want to piss off the people at Vogue as well, but I would if I had to.
Oli went to his psychologist again the next day and honestly, by that afternoon, he seemed to be back to himself; a sadder version of himself, but himself never the less. He called his parents and told them everything that had happened and he even managed to call his friend's parents to offer his condolences and talk to them about the funeral. I was proud of him for the way he'd managed to pull himself from the grips of darkness, even if he thought that it was all my doing by being there. It wasn't. Oli actually brought up my missed meeting in Paris again, apologising and then asking about my work in Madrid, wanting to know my plans. I didn't want him to feel bad, so I told him that it was entirely up to him, that I was happy to stay with him if he wanted me to, but he insisted that I go. I studied him closely, trying to read between the lines and make sure he meant it. I needed to know he wasn't just saying that because he thought he should... I needed to know he was actually OK with me going. He assured me that he would be OK by himself, that he'd get his brother to come and stay and that he was going to keep seeing his psychologist for the next few days. He said that he'd work on music to keep himself busy too. If I'm being honest, I was a little hesitant about leaving, but since it was only for three days and he was going to have Tom stay over, I agreed. I would meet up with Oli again in London in four days time for the lingerie brand's week of events and the fashion show at the end. I was going to check in with Tom every single day while I was away too, and make sure Jordan and Micky checked in with Oli as well. He wasn't going to be alone.
The night before I left for Madrid, Oli and I had sex. It was gentle and loving; not some crazy, rough or out of control sex fest, but Oli wanting to be intimate again told me that he genuinely was doing a lot better. He was obviously still upset about his friend passing, but he wasn't spiralling or feeling completely overwhelmed by it anymore. I could tell that he was OK, even though he was still sad. I insisted that I'd just take a taxi to the airport the following morning so that Oli didn't have to drive me, and I told him that I'd see him in three days. I left Oli feeling like I had done the right thing by going back to console him, and even though I'd probably fucked my career, I didn't regret it at all. I would do it again and again. It stung when I called Luiz from the airport and he told me the French had officially dropped me from their show in all regards, but I had to forget about it and just focus on the present; on Vogue and my job in Madrid.