t w o

, and Oliver barely had time to open bleary eyes before she launched herself at him. "Time to wake up, Oli!"

He rolled across the bed with a groan and was about to tell her to get lost before he remembered what day it was. Bright and early on Monday morning, it was the first day of the school year. It was never a particularly happy day for anyone but what made it so much worse for Oliver was that he was returning to Woodway High School. Whether Brooks had kept his word or not, Oliver had managed to spend the last week of his summer avoiding everyone else from his past and hadn't made the mistake of taking Lexie outside or stepping foot inside Juniper's again.

Today, he didn't think it would be possible that he could stay hidden for much longer. A new student in the last year of school was bound to draw attention and it was a toss-up as to how Reed would react to his return. He'd either completely ignore his existence or make it his mission to make Oliver's life a living hell, and he couldn't decide which one he'd rather have. Any sane person would choose the former — when Reed wanted you to suffer, you suffered — but at least the latter would be some kind of acknowledgment. Maybe if Oliver was really lucky, Reed would have forgotten what happened that night.

Yeah, right. He didn't know who he was trying to kid.

"Lexie, stop it," he mumbled sleepily, when she began grabbing fistfuls of his dark hair and tugging. And not gently at that. "I'm awake, okay?"

"Are you sure?" she giggled.

Oliver sat up with a yawn and pulled Lexie down into his lap, pinning her arms by her side before she actually managed to pull any of his hair out. He glanced outside his window to see heavy rainfall streaking the windows and blurring his view of a grey sky. Oliver was willing to take that as an omen of how terrible today would be and considered faking ill just to avoid the entire thing. It was the coward's way out, but Oliver knew all too well how much of a coward he could be when the situation warranted it.

Instead, he dragged himself out of bed and at her demands, spun a squealing Lexie in the air a couple of times before setting her down. "Again, again!" she exclaimed in delight, raising her arms in an implore to be picked up. "Do it again, Oli!"

"Not now," he said, nudging her towards the door. It was her first day at her new school and he hoped someone would be brushing her tangled hair first. "Go get ready and maybe I'll do it later."

It felt wrong putting on his Woodway uniform after so long. The new set his parents had ordered all fit perfectly, the red tie knotted around his neck and the plain black jumper along with the basic shirt and trousers. He glanced in the mirror at the finished ensemble before leaving his room and ran self-conscious fingers through his messy black hair. His mismatched eyes stared back at him and it occurred to him that he wouldn't just be the new kid, he'd be the new kid with the freaky eyes.

Great, he thought with a sigh. Not like it would be the first time he'd played this role.

Oliver didn't have his driving licence yet so he was stuck catching the tram to school. It was as unpleasant an experience as always — being crammed in too close to strangers and having to touch the poles covered in an unbelievable amount of germs to stop himself falling over. Woodway was exactly how he remembered it, towering oaks framing the entrance to the main building and everything on the campus modernised. They had the money from the rich students paying for attendance here and they made sure to use it to keep up the gleaming appearance of perfection.

He didn't have to hunt the reception down in the huge school, because he remembered where it was. "Hi," he said, to the lady at the computer. "I'm new here today. Oliver Sterling," he added, as she began scanning the screen for his name.

"Ah, of course. Here we are," she said, handing him a couple of small printed sheets. "That's your timetable for the year and a map of the school. Your locker number is 044. Do you need any help finding your first lesson?"

"No, that's okay, I've actually — "

"Holy shit," a loud and distinctively feminine voice said. "Don't tell me you're back."

"Watch your language," the receptionist gasped, sounding scandalised, but Oliver ignored her as he turned to see who the owner of the voice was.

It took him longer than it had with Brooks to put a name to the face — her curling strawberry blonde locks had grown out past her shoulders and her body had filled out, gaining curves and breasts, but those hazel eyes were as sharp as always.

"Jesus," he said mildly. "Is that really you, Clair?"

She laughed. "So you do remember me."

"I could hardly forget an ex-girlfriend," Oliver said with some amusement.

In this case, Oliver used the term girlfriend rather loosely. It had been trivial and circumstantial dating that had more to do with the novelty of their twelve year old selves using such grown-up terms than genuinely liking each other. For some time in year eight, they exchanged sweets — a popular one to swap were lovehearts — before class in the morning and sent each other what classified as "romantic" texts, most of which Adam and Reed had typed out to entertain themselves. Oliver quickly stopped that when Reed's texts began getting a little explicit for a twelve year old.

It lasted for a solid two months before Clair declared she was actually madly in love with Luke Zhang from the year below and promptly dumped him. Oliver had gotten over it by the next day, if there was even anything to get over.

"I could say the same about an ex-boyfriend," Clair said, her hazel gaze scanning him from head to toe in an appreciative once-over. "Although, I'm beginning to regret ever ending that relationship. You certainly grew up, Oliver Sterling."

Oliver managed to keep the surprise off his face and settled for raising an eyebrow at the implication behind her words. Clair Fontaine had never been one for subtlety, always bold and in your face, but he still hadn't been expecting such a forward greeting after five years. He was saved from responding by the trill of the bell, signalling the start of first period.

"Oops, that's my cue," she said, flicking glossy hair over her shoulder with a sigh. "Mr Beltreusse will have my head on a stick if I'm late to history one more time. But before I go, my proposition — sit with us at lunch?"

Oliver wasn't sure who "us" entailed, but he didn't care enough to ask. He'd always had lunch with Reed and Adam before, but seeing as that wasn't going to happen anymore, his only options were to take up Clair's offer or sit alone. It was an easy enough choice.

"Sure," he said.

She winked at him. "See you at lunch, Sterling."

His morning of lessons was as tedious as he expected. School had never been something he enjoyed anyway, because the teachers lectures were never interesting enough to hold his attention and he found himself distracted too easily to remember a single thing any of them said. But his short attention span was nothing new to him, and the truly exhausting part was the other students. He got every reaction imaginable — those who averted their gaze the moment they met his eyes to avoid seeming as if they were staring, those who looked their fill but didn't say a word, and then those who were brave enough to pepper him with questions.

For some reason, it was the second category that bugged him the most. He didn't mind people asking about his eyes, granted they weren't rude about it, but flat out staring was uncomfortable at best and aggravating at worst.

As if that wasn't irritating enough, the confusion regarding his ethnicity was brought up a couple of times too. He'd gotten the whole spectrum of guesses, from different types of East Asian to different types of European, usually French or Italian. It wasn't the first time it had been brought up that someone couldn't figure out where he'd come from but he didn't feel like explaining the full story to every random stranger who came up to him. He warded off the questions as politely as possible, but the more he got, the thinner his patience wore. He could hear his responses becoming snappier and couldn't bring himself to feel too guilty about it.

Oliver couldn't have been more grateful when lunch finally came. On the plus side, he still hadn't run into Adam or Reed, by some miracle. Maybe they didn't go here anymore. Maybe they'd left for university a year early. Maybe, he thought, stepping into the crowded cafeteria, you should stop grasping at straws. With that reality check in mind, he headed to the food.

For all the flaws it had in the nosy students that attended, Woodway did not fail when it came to culinary expectations. Unlike most high schools, the food they prepared was always nice and today's cuisine of Chinese did not disappoint. Oliver had no qualms about piling his plate high with food and in his haste to grab the last few prawn crackers, he bumped into someone.

"Fuck," the guy muttered, spilling the glass in his hand all over himself, and Oliver's heart stopped at the sound of his voice. It had been years since he'd heard Reed Bishop speak and yet the unmistakeable familiarity brought a lump to his throat. "Can't you watch where you're going?"

Reed still hadn't looked up, scrubbing at the juice staining his white shirt with grumbled curses under his breath, but all Oliver could do was stare. He couldn't have spoken around the sudden pounding of his heart even if wanted to. It was definitely him — he had the same tousled white-blonde hair, the same perpetual greenish tinge to the tips from chlorine, the same chilly blue eyes that had always made Oliver feel a little like he was drowning, in the best way possible. Those eyes were still narrowed in irritation on his damp shirt and it occurred to Oliver that he still had a chance to escape before Reed noticed him.

That was a stupid idea, he knew that. How much longer exactly did he think he could spend running from him? They'd have to face each other eventually, but the last place he wanted a reunion was in a crowded cafeteria with pretty much the school watching. Oliver was taking the coward's way out again and couldn't even bring himself to care. He only managed one step back when Reed suddenly looked up and any possibility that he wouldn't recognise Oliver was dashed when the glass slipped from his hands, shattering with a loud splash of silver shards.

Someone gave a startled gasp at the glass shards littered across the floor, but Oliver barely heard it. For a split second, so many emotions flashed across Reed's face that Oliver barely registered any — shock, disbelief, alarm — before his expression closed off so abruptly it was like having a door slammed shut in his face. He took two steps back, ignoring the crunch of broken glass beneath his feet, and glared at Oliver so fiercely it felt like a physical blow.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Oliver's heart sank at the hostility in his expression but he wasn't sure what else he'd been expecting. Of course Reed hated him. Right now, he hated himself a little, for ever messing up their friendship in the first place from that night onwards. But it was too late to change the past, and Oliver didn't want to let Reed see just how much the hatred in his eyes hurt. He'd just be providing him with more ammunition. Not to mention they were already attracting a crowd and Oliver wasn't showing any vulnerability to a bunch of strangers.

"Nice to see you too," Oliver said, surprising himself with how steady his voice sounded. It was at odds with the wild racing of his pulse. "You haven't changed a bit."

Lies, lies, lies. He was even better looking than Oliver remembered, the childhood softness to his face having faded to sharp angular features, all high cheekbones and perfect bone structure. Oliver wanted to hit him for it. If he at least looked repulsive, this would be so much easier.

"Shut up," Reed snapped. "Just shut up and answer the fucking question. Why are you here?"

"Why do you think?" Oliver saw in his eyes he'd already put the pieces together but he said it anyway. "I go to school here now."

"Don't lie to me."

Oliver's mouth twisted unhappily. "Why would I lie?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Reed said, in a voice almost as cold as his gaze, and Oliver only just managed to stop himself flinching at the accusation in his words. "Or maybe you don't remember?"

Get a grip, Oliver told himself, curling his fingers in the sleeves of his jumper in an attempt to ground himself. Of course he remembered, how the hell was he supposed to forget? They both knew it was a rhetorical question and Oliver didn't know what he was supposed to say next. Reed was the only person with the ability to render him speechless and Oliver didn't like the power he had over him. He needed that control back and steeled himself to do it in the only way he knew how.

"I get it, Reed," Oliver said, trying to find some satisfaction at the shift in his expression when he used his name. If there was one thing Oliver could do that Reed couldn't, it was that he could hide his emotions so they weren't written across his face. "You hate me, but as much as you might wish otherwise, this is my school too. You deal with that or you don't — there isn't anything I can do about it now."

Reed's ice eyes flashed. "You're right. I do hate you."

He turned and walked away before Oliver could say another word, leaving the mess of broken glass shards on the floor. That was typical of Reed, smashing everything to pieces with his reckless nature and then leaving someone else to clean up after him. Oliver just never thought he would be the one left behind to clean up. After apologising to the cleaner, and trying to explain he wasn't even the one who'd broken the glass, he finally paid for his food and found Clair's reddish blonde hair easily enough among the tables. He was about to sit down when he saw who was already sitting next to Clair.

The downpour outside really was a bad omen, because after an entire morning without seeing them, Oliver had ran into both of his ex-bestfriends in the space of five minutes. Brooks hadn't said anything to him then, because Adam was wearing a rare expression of disbelieving shock and there wasn't much that could throw him off guard. Or there hadn't been, at least. Oliver had to keep reminding himself that it had been five years and people changed, just like everything did.

Adam recovered from his surprise quickly. "I'm guessing you're the reason Reed just stormed out of here," he commented, in that same lazy drawl he was so good at.

"Most likely," Oliver said, as if he couldn't care less. He really was a liar. "Are you going to have the same reaction?"

"That depends. Are you going to explain where you went?"

"London," Oliver replied.

It wasn't the answer he wanted and both of them knew that. Oliver saw in the way Adam narrowed his eyes at him that he was pissed off. He could rival Oliver in terms of pretending he was disinterested in the things that actually bothered him, but he'd known Adam for too long not to know the irritation behind his eyes was genuine. Oliver realised, a little unfairly, he'd only considered how much Reed would hate him when he came back. It hasn't occurred to him that Adam might feel the same just being ghosted for five years.

"London," Adam echoed. "That's great. It really clears everything up. If you went to London, what are you doing here?"

"We came back."

Adam glanced at his uniform. "Permanently?"

Oliver just nodded. He knew that Adam, more than anyone — maybe even more than Reed — deserved an explanation and the only way he could salvage the friendship would be to give it to him. But he wasn't about to give it here, with Clair and an entire table full of vaguely familiar people watching their conversation. Oliver was too private of a person to ever feel comfortable having strangers knowing about his business.

"Well, don't just stand there," Clair said, making it sound like an order. "Have a seat and we can all catch up over lunch."

Oliver wasn't so sure Adam wanted anything to do with him, forget catch up, and glanced at him. He didn't tell him to get lost but just stared impassively back at him, a silent challenge in his eyes. Oliver took it and slid into the chair on the other side of Clair. Oliver wanted to think Adam letting him sit with them was the first step to repairing their friendship, but he wasn't that idealistic. It was more likely Adam didn't want to kick up a fuss, a concept Reed would never understand, and was willing to put up with his presence for now.

He glanced at Clair and Adam, wondering how and when a friendship had formed between them. If he recalled correctly, Adam used to think she was bossy and Clair used to think he was stuck up. Neither of them were wrong, per se, but it sure made Oliver's life difficult when he couldn't hang out with both of them at the same time without constant bickering. Now they were sitting together for lunch — Oliver wouldn't have accepted her invitation if he thought that Adam might be here too — and she was stealing noodles off his plate.

"You two are friends?" Oliver asked.

"Friends?" Clair laughed and snaked a possessive arm around Adam's shoulder. "He's my boyfriend. I couldn't pine after you forever, Oliver — I had to move on some time."

Oliver wouldn't have thought anything of the final offhand comment, which was obviously a joke, if not for her earlier words that morning. He must have read into that as flirting which was nothing more than teasing and was happy to leave it at that. Clair was hot, anyone would agree, but if she was Adam's girlfriend that meant she was off-limits. He didn't need to give Adam anymore of a reason to hate him.

"Boyfriend, huh? Guess I missed a lot," Oliver said thoughtfully.

"Yeah," Adam said, and Oliver was sure he was the only one who heard the edge to his voice. "You did."