Etymology (Kyle/ Fish, R)
Until he was 18, the only people who didn’t call Oliver Fish by his last name were those who shared it with him.
It wasn’t that he liked it particularly - who really wants to be called after something slimy and smelly and gross, but when he was four his mom took him to the police station to drop off lunch for his dad. All the policemen called his dad ‘Sergeant Fish’ and then jumped to do whatever he told them to, and that seemed like the best job in the world.
So when he started elementary school and on the first day one of the other boys yelled it across the classroom at him he couldn’t quite bring himself to get mad. He wanted everyone to call him Fish and then maybe they’d all do what he said too.
No one did follow his orders though, and they never said his name the same way the policemen said it to his dad. Too tall too fast, he always kind of knew he wasn't what a sergeant's son should have been, never quite intimidating enough to be top dog in the playground. It was probably the smile. But some days a patrol car would arrive to pick him up from school, and that was enough to mostly get him left alone. And when it wasn't... well, he quickly learnt how to throw enough scrappy punches to avoid real hassle. Even if he wasn’t respected, he wasn’t going to be mocked.
His dad was transferred during his high school freshman year, and they moved into Des Moines. He managed nearly a year as Fish without anyone making it a joke, keeping his head down and finding his newly filled out body could get him in with the jocks and onto the football team. Any nickname that wasn't innuendo had pretty much gone out the window as testosterone levels surged, anyway. The one time a raw fish found its way into his locker he made sure to find out who had put it there and clearly express his displeasure with his fists. He might spend most of his evenings messing about with an old computer his dad had managed to get hold of, his mom bringing ‘Ollie’ cocoa, but no one at school was going to think he was a geek, think he was soft.
In sophomore History there was a boy two seats in front and one over who got caught after homecoming in an empty classroom with the guy who edited the school paper. After that day Oliver couldn't stop his eyes from wandering from the window to the back of that particular classmate’s head, but when one of the other players spotted him looking and started making a scene he had to knock him out of his chair. Did a month's detention for hitting someone in class, but it was worth it. Had to hook up with the girl sat next to paper boy's friend too, if only for some kind of plausible explanation, eventually getting her to suck him off in the locker room after practice. Spent plenty of time the next day telling the guys about it, pleased to finally have a story to share, even if he did take a bit of slack for getting half-hard just remembering it while they showered. Caught the girl crying one day as her friends shot him daggers, figured that was the end of that. He didn’t mind going back to his right hand if it meant everyone at school knew he’d scored.
His dad noticed when he was late home from school yet again after detention, and threatened to take away the car they'd been fixing up if he didn't stay out of trouble. Said that real, Christian men had no need to throw punches. Apparently everyone heard about the History incident though, and he got through junior and senior years without anyone else yelling Fish at him in anything but greeting. No one called him that other f word, either. A handful of times he and the guys would get hold of some beer and head down to the basement of one of the cornerbacks. They always seemed to end up watching porn bribed off an older brother, jerking off while carefully ignoring the guys around them. Oliver always came damn quick in that basement, but then he couldn't risk watching porn at home, one TV and one computer in the house, both right in the middle of the family room.
When college applications came round his dad wanted him to go to his school, but his mom sent a project he’d been working on to a friend of hers in Pennsylvania and he ended up with a scholarship to the college the friend worked at. His dad promised he’d make up the value of the scholarship, that it would work out cheaper to go to a home state college anyway, but he'd sooner cross four state lines than go to a Christian College and have a million versions of his dad breathing down his neck, so Llanview U it was. If he was going to go into the police afterwards he'd get enough of his dad then, he needed a little bit of freedom first.
College wasn't like he'd thought. For one, he had to actually work. For another, it wasn't as simple as being a jock or being a loser anymore. He went to football try-outs but was never going to make the first team so stopped going. Figured maybe a frat could give him enough social standing. Pledged KAD because the house was closest to the classes he was taking, and it was only afterwards he found out about all the community service they were being made to do. Figured it would at least make his parents happy. He went to a Halloween party at the house, recognised one of the other freshman from a biology lab. Introduced himself as Fish, as always, got asked if he didn’t have a first name, smile twinkling in the other guy’s eyes. Told him Oliver, shook hands, found out the other guy was Kyle. An hour later they were still talking.
When he moved into the KAD house sophomore year he realised everyone was just a last name, had no complaints about that except for how he didn’t stand out anymore, didn’t look more of a man than the rest. Kyle never called him anything but Oliver though. Not even when they were drunk. Certainly not on the nights that meant nothing except for how Oliver found himself longing for them. Found himself taking a whole bunch of classes with Kyle too, plus the computer science ones he was persuaded to take after he fixed the computer the Lewis’ got their son for his birthday.
The summer between sophomore and junior years Kyle's dad died. Oliver never forgot the desperate way Kyle said his name on the phone, and he ended up explaining why he needed to travel nearly a thousand miles just to go to the funeral of a frat brother's father. Told his Dad about how Kyle's sister was unreliable, sometimes criminal, how Kyle helped him pass his classes (not cheating Dad, he just helps me study), and it seemed to satisfy him. Kyle was stoic all through the funeral and wake, hovering at his mother's side, and it was only once the bedroom door had shut the rest of the world out that he broke. Oliver let him fall forwards onto his chest, heard his own name chanted over and over, didn’t know what to do. When Kyle raised his head again and reached up for a kiss Fish couldn’t see any of the hope in his eyes that had always been there before. Ended up on his knees, mouth busy, Kyle's dress pants pooling round his ankles, doing what he had told him a million times would never happen. When it was over and he was pulled haphazardly into bed, the name breathed into his neck sounded almost like a prayer.
Kyle picked up a part time job when they got back to college, conscious that his mom couldn’t afford to be supporting him in the same way anymore. Oliver managed to land a twin room all to himself, but no amount of persuading would get him to allow Kyle to officially share it. After 2 nights of coming home from work to find a very bored blond waiting for him, Kyle encouraged Oliver to start playing football with some of the other brothers. Oliver found he liked it, had forgotten how much he had enjoyed the game itself, but best of all was feeling a set of eyes burning into him when he played. That and the reception he got in his room after the game.
His parents moved to his mom’s hometown after his grandma had a stroke, and when he went there for summer he found there wasn't really all that much difference between Iowa and Ohio. Except for the fact that he was at least 8 hours closer to Kyle.
Oliver kept playing into senior year, and the KAD boys found themselves on a winning streak. He told his Mom about it on the phone, Kyle grinning at his excitement from across the room. She called back a few days later, saying that his Dad wanted to come see him play on parents' weekend.
The night before they arrive Oliver actually went to the bathroom to change into pyjamas, came back and planted himself in bed facing the wall. He heard Kyle close the door, flip the switch and crawl into the other bed, half wished just for once he’d left the spare bed empty and gone back to his real room. They laid in silence for a few minutes, and he figured Kyle must already be asleep.
“Oliver”
“Don't... I just... I can't. Goodnight Kyle.”
A sigh was all the response he got, but he knew if Kyle was actually mad he would be sure to tell him, and by the time Oliver rolled over he really was asleep, strip of light from between the curtains throwing shadows of his eyelashes onto his cheek.
When they arrived Kyle had taken himself off to the library, and Oliver was almost glad. He hugged his Mom and awkwardly shook hands with his Dad, then took them off on a tour of the house before his room could somehow incriminate him. He had planned to take them for lunch, but his Dad complained about how tired he was after the drive, so they went back to the hotel once he had assured them he had studying to do. He figured he really would go to the library to find Kyle, but before he made it out of his room the door opened.
“They're here?” Kyle asked.
“Went to have a nap.”
“You OK?”
Oliver just shrugged, unable to put into words how the two halves of his life were overlapping, how he was struggling to keep them apart. Then there were hands on his shoulders, a body crawling round behind his to knead the tense flesh. He really didn't mean anything to happen, but when Kyle leaned round to kiss him he couldn't help but kiss back, push himself into a little bit of oblivion.
He didn't hear the gasp so much as feel Kyle pull back, see him stare towards the door.
“Oliver” His mother choked out. Then, quieter, “I forgot my gloves.” She ran forwards to grab them from the chair even as he pushed Kyle away, yelled at him to get off, that he disgusted him. Somehow Kyle made it out the door half dressed, but his mom followed before Oliver could even get his pants the whole way back on.
He sat, head in hands, but within five minutes he heard the door click open again.
“Oliver...” Kyle whispered. When Fish looked at him, those familiar features felt completely new. Kyle flushed and shirtless, hickey sucked onto his collarbone, not beautiful but dirty. Weak. Pathetic. Not a man. And the reflection he saw of himself in the mirror looked no better.
“Oliver” Kyle whispered again, and he couldn't hear it said any more, couldn't be reminded of all that person called Oliver had done, couldn't hear it laced with tenderness from another man. Another man! It wasn’t normal.
He did his fly up with shaking hands, grabbed his kit bag from the floor. “I can't do this.”
Kyle said nothing, just looked at him.
“It's disgusting. It's never gonna happen again.”
He made it out of the door without looking back.
They won. After a celebratory team pile up Oliver scanned the crowd, picked out his politely applauding parents, too far away to read their expressions. As far from them as possible he could see Kyle, but he wouldn't let himself really notice that.
His Dad insisted on taking him out for dinner to celebrate, his Mom quiet, staring into her food. He went back with them to their hotel, asked to stay and see them off in the morning, too late after all to go back to the house alone. When they left the next morning she kissed his cheek, no hug, and as soon as he got back to the house he moved all of Kyle’s stuff back to his room.
Kyle turned up again in the afternoon, expression alternating between anger (“you just dumped everything on my bed?”) and worry (“what did she say? Are you OK?”). Oliver talked in clipped sentences, told him to pretend nothing ever happened, that he was not that person. No open malice, he couldn't bring himself to that, just cold, unfeeling, and every time Kyle said “Oliver...” in that same old sigh he heard his mother saying it from the doorway instead.
The next Monday he went to practice as normal, and when someone yelled ‘Fish’ before passing to him he remembered why Fish was a good person for him to be. Fish was one of the guys. Fish was respected. Fish wouldn't crawl into another guy's bed at night and shed tears on his chest. Fish wouldn't fail to meet his mother's eye.
He only spoke to Kyle a couple of times more before they left, always polite, never friendly. He got used to being Fish in his head again, picked up a handful of girls and made sure to introduce one to his parents when they came for graduation. On his first day in the police academy he introduced himself as Fish, took the same old jokes and then enjoyed being the kind of man who goes by his last name. Managed to be the tech guy without remembering who it was that gave him the confidence to stop hiding it. He forgot what the name Oliver sounded like.
Until he remembers, because Kyle is right in front of him and he can't quite remember the look on his mom's face all those years ago, can't hear her say his name because Kyle is saying it. But Fish is stronger than falling for just a name, better than getting distracted by a man who once knew another version of him. Just once, he actually tells him not to call him Oliver, and it half works. For a while.
But every time he sees Kyle, every time he insists on using his first name, he remembers that other life a little more, and he can't stop his constructed world from falling down. He remembers who Oliver was, and who Fish is, and realises neither one is really him. So he tells the truth - to Layla, to his parents, to Kyle. Tells the truth even when he's not sure he knows what it is. And when it is all done, when he surveys the ashes around him and finds his man by his side he actually feels like Oliver Fish. Almost whole. Almost real.
He likes it that everyone calls him Fish.
He likes it even more that Kyle doesn’t.