Olive had beaten herself up about the situation all night. She'd been so far removed from her usual chirpy self that her mother had known immediately that something must have happened with Enoch and her father grumbled threats against him until Olive insisted left, right and centre that it had nothing to do with Enoch whatsoever.

His shocked face when she'd made a complete idiot of herself in front of them was emblazoned in her mind and all she heard when she hung up the phone until she finally got to sleep, was Enoch snapping at her. He hadn't done that in months since he really had wanted nothing to do with her. Even if he didn't mean it, he had every right to be annoyed with her. Olive had been selfish, and let herself be tempted to poke her nose where she shouldn't. So she had made up her mind to try and smooth things over and apologise properly the next day. If nothing else they had a free period they could find a quiet place in.

But when she'd hurried onto the bus and looked down towards the back seat where Enoch always sat, it was empty. He rarely missed the bus, and was almost never late despite his obvious hatred for school most of the time. He must just have missed it this morning and was getting a lift to school instead. Olive swallowed a lump and slipped into the seat beside Emma who was frowning up at her.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing...nothing." Olive faked a smile which her best friend saw through as plainly as if she hadn't bothered to try at all.

"Uh huh, you don't wear 'sad and bothered' very well, Olive. Something didn't happen with Enoch did it?"

"...No." She answered much too slowly and she knew it. She'd never been a very good liar but the last thing she wanted to do was go into any detail about it, even with Emma. "Okay maybe..."

Emma glared at the back of the seat in front of them and huffed. "Right. If he's turned around and is being a great big git to you again then he's gonna have a-"

"No, no. It definitely wasn't Enoch's fault, I promise." Olive couldn't help but smile a little at Emma's immediate willingness to leap to her defence, "It was entirely me. I...I think I kind of ruined everything."

"Oh come on, you can be a little dramatic sometimes, I'm sure you didn't ruin everything. Now spill. It can't have been that bad."

Olive just wrinkled her nose and shook her head, strands of hair falling loose from where they'd caught under her collar. "I can't really tell you. He'd never forgive me if I did. I just...I did something I knew he wouldn't want me to do."

Emma suddenly looked a lot more wary about asking. "...Do I want to know exactly what kind of thing you two were doing?"

"Emma!" Olive squeaked, her remorse momentarily forgotten in embarrassment of what Emma was suggesting, her whole face flushing pink. "Nothing of the kind! I'm just so afraid he hates me now, look he's not even on the bus."

"Yeah I did think that was a little odd. Don't worry so much, he's probably just late and besides...you of all people should know Enoch wouldn't ever hate you."

Should she or shouldn't she? She could message him and he could walk into class ten minutes late and keep his head down and ignore her. What if he was only late and she came off clingy and desperate for forgiveness. Or maybe Emma was right and she worried too much. So Olive did message him, only a few minutes before the bell would ring and quickly stuffed her phone into her bag in her locker after hitting send, as thought by doing that, she could pretend that she hadn't and wouldn't have to see his reply, if there was any, right away.

But all history, Enoch didn't show up at all and Olive was only distracted more than ever wondering if he really was avoiding her. So much so that Fiona asked her several times if she really was okay and Jacob mouthed "Where is he?" across the room to them.

She checked her phone right after, though her locker was the opposite direction from the Lit classroom and it would make her a minute or so late for the next class. All the same Olive couldn't bear it and slipped away down the corridor towards her locker under the excuse of forgetting her novel. Enoch had replied. Just the fact that he had, eased her worry about ignoring her a little.

xxxXxxx

Sick. That was just what Enoch would have needed on top of everything else. Perhaps that was why Olive had volunteered to bring Enoch the Biology and History reading and homework herself and intentionally stayed past her stop and Emma's on the bus home after school. Maybe she was so desperate to assuage her own guilt and make amends that some stupid part of her brain had decided that going to see him instead would be a good idea. She had told him of course. At least messaged him to see if it would be alright but as of twenty minutes ago he still hadn't responded, or probably even seen it. She would go the moment he made it clear he didn't want her there but Olive was determined that he know she desperately didn't want him to shut her out.

"Oh! Hello, dear..." Enoch's mother couldn't have looked more surprised than she did when she answered the door to see Olive, and Olive was momentarily reminded of the expression Enoch's face the day before, only without the hint of shame, she could only call it that, his had held. "Enoch's not well today, he didn't tell you that?"

"He did." Olive smiled and patted her bag, "I brought his History work, can I come in?"

"I don't really think it's such a good idea, he wasn't looking so good earlier he might have something and we wouldn't want you catching it."

"Oh don't worry about me, Mrs. O'Connor, I have a very strong immune system." Olive tried and bounced on the balls of her feet nervously when the woman still looked unsure. Had Enoch said he didn't want to see her? But that wasn't at all something he'd tell his parents, or anyone. He would have kept it to himself.

After a few more moments, she relented and a smile crossed her face as she opened the door a little wider and stepped to the side to let Olive in. "Then again I suppose you might cheer him up a bit. Enoch's been awfully sour. Go right on in...I do hope it's not contagious. "

Olive smiled and whispered her thanks as she stepped into the house. She might be at least part of the reason Enoch was being sour. The layout of their house was starting to become very familiar to her as she heard the front door close behind her and stepped through a doorway into the passage. Her heart was racing more than it had before going towards Enoch's room. She hardly thought him to be the invalid in bed sort but if he was as sick as his mother seemed to suggest, he might appreciate her company even less.

She hesitated outside his door. She was never this nervous to see him and she wanted more than anything to fix it so it wasn't so awkward. Summoning her confidence back, she raised a hand and knocked softly on the door, she wasn't about to make the same mistake of not knocking enough a second time.

"What?" Enoch's grumble was muffled slightly through the wood. He probably thought she was his mother coming back so Olive slowly drew in a breath and pushed the door open enough to stick her head through.

"Hi..."

Enoch was still in bed. Or rather on it, in track pants and a t-shirt with his knees drawn up, sketch book balanced against them and computer open on the mattress by his legs. His head shot up at the sound of her voice and so did his eyebrows, almost disappearing into his mop of dark curls which was clearly uncombed and messy. She preferred it that way.

"Wha-"

"Please don't be mad at me...I did let you know, I don't know if you saw it yet."

"Oh just get in already..." Enoch muttered and Olive let herself in. His room was messier than she'd seen it but she kept her eyes on Enoch who had stretched out one of his legs and sat up straighter. "What are ya doin' 'ere?"

"I'm not just trying to smother you in apologies if that's what you think..." Olive held her bag against her chest, standing close to the door and unsure of what to do with herself while Enoch just stared at her piercingly. "...But I-I wanted to make things better and you said you were sick so I-"

"Olive."

"I said I'd give you the reading for History-"

"Olive."

"I'll go the minute you say you want me to, if you really don't want to see me for a while-"

"Bloody 'ell, Olive, stop talkin' for 'alf a second!"

Olive closed her mouth and her own eyebrows shot up. Enoch was shaking his head slowly and rolling his eyes towards the ceiling as he looked away. "I ain't sick. Ya really thought I was?"

She was sure for a second that she'd misheard what he had said and then it sunk in suddenly and she felt even sillier. "You're...not? But your mum sa-"

"My mother finks I am. Bit'a forced 'eat and fake retchin' once or twice and she'd believe me easy." He wasn't quite holding her eyes, Olive realised, but keeping his gaze just a little to the left. He was avoiding something.

"Do you want me to go? I will, if you want. You know that's all you have to say."

Enoch's gaze went to the floor and then after a moment he tossed his book to the side and swung his legs over the mattress. Olive watched as he stood up and took a few steps over to her. Enoch still said nothing, and his eyes still didn't quite meet hers as he walked closer. She thought for a moment he was going to open the door for her to leave himself in some unspoken but more than direct, sign of saying exactly that. But then he was right in front of her, as close as they'd been when she said goodbye to him and he'd moved his hand not behind her to the door, but to the bag she was still clutching in front of her.

"I ain't ticked ya listened. Well...mostly. Just 'at ya know at all."

Olive let her fingers loosen while he took the bag out of her hands and dropped it on the floor instead, a whole other kind of unspoken and direct sign that she couldn't have been more relieved for. She thought for a second he was going to say something else but then Enoch moved to the side and coughed loudly, and very, in her opinion, exaggerated right beside the door. His eyebrows shot up expectedly and Olive suddenly heard footsteps walking away down the hall.

"Mothers..." He muttered and for a second his blue eyes actually met hers before Enoch turned around and walked back over to sit on the edge of his bed.

Feeling a good deal more relaxed that he didn't want to completely ignore her, Olive let herself come further into the room and, somewhat hesitantly, sat down next to him.

"I'm still-"

"Really sorry, I know. You ain't necessarily what I'm avoidin'."

Olive laughed, "Then this might sound a touch selfish but I'm really relieved to hear that."

Enoch didn't so much as twitch a lip in response but at least he was looking at her now. His hand was resting on the mattress between them and she carefully positioned hers, without trying to make it too obvious, so her fingers rested on his. He didn't move it.

"Enoch..."

He shot her a look before she could go any further that clearly said 'I'm not talking about it' and wisely, Olive stopped herself and changed tactic. Letting her eyes wander, her gaze fell to his book, open and folded over on itself to the page he was sketching on. "What are you drawing?"

Enoch's entire manner changed in a second and he twisted and made a grab for the book like there was something he didn't want her seeing on that. "Nofin'...just...stuff, nofin' great." He snapped the book closed but not before Olive got a glimpse of finely detailed hair. Whatever it was he was putting a good amount of effort into it.

"Enoch, you're really good, of course it's something great."

"It's nofin' alright?"

There was a tap on the door and Enoch had moved faster than Olive had ever seen as he scooted back to the head of the bed to lean against his pillow. "I'm sick, remember?"

Right. Olive stifled a smile just at the moment the door opened and Enoch's mother came back in.

"Mum." Enoch growled "Do ya mind?"

"Just checking, you still look like you have a bit of a fever. I really don't know if it's a good idea to have company."

"It's really alright, I don't mind in the least, I promise." Olive insisted and felt Enoch's eyes on her while she looked towards the door.

"Might be sick but I ain't a kid. Don' need a chaperone neither if 'at's what ya fink." Enoch grumbled sourly and glared at his mother, every inch the grumpy, short tempered teenager that he was.

She did leave after a few moments and Olive couldn't help but giggle at the sigh that Enoch let out the moment the door closed again. "You don't think that's a little much, Enoch?"

"Oh come off it, like you've never faked sick before. The fuss is ridiculous though. Almost not worth the bother." Enoch was muttering while he straightened back up and the now sleeping laptop slipped further down the bed covers.

"Then..." Olive paused and weighed up the possibilities. Enoch was in better spirits, if indeed he was ever in better spirits, than when she'd first got there. Perhaps he might answer her. Then again, perhaps he would get angry with her for asking when he definitely hadn't wanted to talk about it before. She took the gamble. "Then why are you bothering? "

There was no answer at first and for a moment she thought he either hadn't heard her somehow, or completely disregarded it. Then the answer came in a mutter that she wouldn't have noticed had there even been one other sound in the room. "Prove a point. I ain't eva gonna care 'bout it. So why try to?"

"You know...you know I'll always help you if you need it. You always help me."

"I don't need 'elp."

And then Enoch was on his feet again, his agitation that he seemed to have held at bay, bubbling out again and the words were harsh but looking at him Olive could tell he didn't mean them against her. He was proud and wouldn't admit it if he did need help but that wasn't all it was. So she wouldn't ask twice just yet. She stood up and held out her hand between them in her own unspoken invitation.

He didn't take it at first. "I just need-"

Then everything was just Enoch and Olive was so taken aback at the suddenness of his kiss that she just blinked for a good several seconds and she didn't know what to do with her hands until his were on her waist. She melted into it instead, wrapped her arms around his neck and let herself feel everything Enoch wouldn't, or couldn't, verbalise. It was possessive, anxious, agitated and wonderful all at once and there was a definite need there. Then Olive's eyes flew open and she was sure that was his tongue running along her lip. No sooner could she part her lips then it was as if an axe had fallen right between them.

"Yeah. 'E looks real sick ta me."