Chlollie Fanfic: Love For Realsies, Chapter 16
Sorry for the wait, everyone! It's been an extremely busy week.
Here's a short Realsies update for ya. Another one should be up some time later today.
Enjoy. Still wall-to-wall angst, though I'm doing my best to wade out of it. :-)
Title: Love for Realsies
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlollie
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Timeline: Season 9 (Conspiracy - Checkmate), sequel to Just for Funsies
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary: Chloe finds it increasingly difficult to resist Ollie’s affections.
Feedback: …is my applause. J
Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.
Chapter 16
Whoever said that time was a healer had lied.
Oliver Queen stared glumly out the window as he nursed a half glass of brandy. Two weeks had passed since Chloe had walked out on him, and he hadn’t heard from her since, not even on official League business. No doubt she had Clark, Victor and the others filling in the gaps caused by his absence, and if any of them had noticed that they were getting more call-outs than usual, no-one appeared to have said anything.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to call her, because he had - several times. The first couple of times she’d simply refused to pick up, and shortly afterward he’d started getting a ‘this phone has been disconnected’ automated message. Absolute bullshit, because he knew how much she loved her number, and would never change it. It was another one of her tricks to get him to stay out of her life.
Oliver sighed and set the glass down, noticing that it was lunchtime, and he hadn’t had any breakfast...or supper from the night before. He smiled sadly as he thought of his nurse, who had constantly tried to fatten him up as a child. Nonna would have his head if she knew he hadn’t eaten in days, especially over a girl.
Listlessly he ambled into the kitchen, knowing he should eat something but having neither the desire nor appetite for food. All he could think about was Chloe. Her eyes, her smile, her taste…everything about her was irrevocably etched into his very being, and he craved her like an addict craved a hit.
But he may as well start thinking of rehab now. He’d done everything he could to get her to love him, and she’d rejected him hands down. Reluctantly he admitted to himself that it might be time to let her go, but even as he thought the words, he knew that it was useless. Chloe had gotten under his skin; it felt like she was a part of him, and there was no getting rid of her without hurting himself.
Which brought him back to square one; sitting alone in his apartment with only his pain for company, waiting for time to numb a wound that would never, ever heal.
***
Chloe’s hands flew over the computer keyboard as she worked on one of several infiltration codes, Onyx in a basket by her side. As always these days, her mind drifted to the last time she saw Ollie, and the stunned expression on his face as the elevator doors closed. Her heart sank, and she knew that that look would haunt her for as long as she lived.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes, and suddenly her computer began to beep for the fifth time that morning as she entered a wrong combination.
“Damn it!” she yelled, yanking the wireless board off the podium and flinging it across the room. It sailed through the air, hit the wall and clattered loudly as it dropped to the floor. A startled Onyx whined pitifully and scarpered away from his mistress, making Chloe’s fractured heart hurt even more.
“I’m sorry, honey, come back!” she exclaimed, slumping to the floor and burying her head in her hands. “I couldn’t bear it if you left me, too.”
Except Oliver didn’t leave you, an inner voice tormented her. You left him. It was your decision.
And a harsh decision it had been, but one that she’d absolutely had to make. She just hadn’t anticipated that letting him go would sting like a bitch and hurt like a motherfucker.
A tear rolled down her cheek and she sighed, feeling as though her heart would break. Oliver was all she could think about, day and night. Memories of him assailed her, and she’d remember how they’d causally sit on the floor and eat dinner together most nights - sometimes out of takeaway packs, sometimes out of posh china plates; the way he’d danced with her when he’d gotten back from his India trip; how they’d go jogging in the park in the evenings, Onyx at their heels, and he’d insist on jogging behind her to enjoy the view…
She threaded her hands into her hair and held back a choked sob. God, how could she have been so blind? It was obvious to her now that Oliver’s feelings for her went way beyond those of a bang buddy for his booty call. Looking back, she could pinpoint and isolate moments where he’d subtly tried to show her his feelings and get her to come out of her shell. She particularly missed their Saturday morning routine of him cooking breakfast while she prepared fresh juice the old-fashioned way at his instructions.
Tears streamed down her face, and Chloe hugged her knees with one hand and wiped her eyes with the other. She felt hollow and empty without Ollie. She ached for his touch, and on more than one occasion had awoken with said ache in her loins, his name on her lips. She desperately yearned for him, and constantly thought of the way he made love to her, how he gently stroked her hair afterwards…
God, she was going to go crazy if she kept this up.
Just then, Onyx pattered over to her, Oliver’s slippers in his mouth. He deposited them in Chloe’s lap and pressed a paw into her leg, whining plaintively.
“I know, baby,” she sobbed, stroking his lush fur as a fresh wave of pain washed her. “I miss him, too.”
***
After twenty or so minutes of moping, the criminal alarm went off. Sighing, she got to her feet and automatically started dialling Ollie’s number before hitting cancel and dialling Clark’s.
“What can I help you with, Chloe?” he asked as he picked up.
“Small gas explosion at a restaurant kitchen downtown,” she mumbled.
“I’m on my way. Oh, and when you see Oliver, tell him I -”
“Tell him yourself,” she said sharply before hanging up the phone and tossing it into the same corner as the abused keyboard.
She knew it wouldn’t take long. Sixty seconds later Clark whooshed into Watchtower, looking decidedly pissed.
“And what the hell is your problem this morning?” he said stiffly.
She looked up at him wearily and rubbed an eye. “Don’t you have a fire to put out?”
“I already did. And I don’t appreciate your tone with me, Chloe. I don’t have to help you with your Big Sister project, and if my presence bothers you that much, just get Mr Wonderful on the case. I’m sure that Oliver will be-”
“Will you just shut up about Oliver for one second?” she screeched, then moaned and raised her hands to her throbbing temples as tears threatened once again.
God, she was pathetic. Quickly she turned and walked away, but Clark blurred and instantly appeared in front of her.
“Chloe, is something wrong?” he asked sounding genuinely concerned. Then his eyes narrowed as he held her chin and studied her face. “Oh my God, have you been crying? What happened, is Oliver okay?”
She steeled herself and straightened. “Ollie and I are no longer together, but it’s no big -”
“What?” he said in a low voice, his face darkening like approaching thunderclouds.
She shrugged. “It’s no big deal…”
“No big deal, huh?” he echoed, clenching his fists hard. “That bastard.”
Her eyes widened as she realised he thought that Oliver had dumped her. “What? No, Oliver didn’t-”
“Son of a bitch. I warned him…”
“No, Clark! Don’t do anything stu-”
There was a now-familiar whoosh, and Chloe found herself completing her sentence to empty space.
“…pid,” she whispered. Oh, dear. Clark going off half-cocked was never a good thing, even if he seemed to be rushing, somewhat erroneously, to her defence.
***
Chapter 17...