Shades of cool [Ollie]

Ollie tore his gaze from the sky, head turned sideways against the hood of the car to study Ezra's profile just as he had the abyss of a world unknown overhead. Ezra had a penchant for turning a compliment around just as fast as it came. Oliver wasn't complaining— of course— he loved a compliment, but he had wished that Ezra had let his own linger for a bit longer, sink in so that he might feel it. A grin pulled at his mouth as he finally laid his head back straight so that he was facing the stars. It was surreal, the vastness of it all.

Then again, he was a little high.

He had thought about correcting him but Ezra followed up. Ollie's heart sank. There was nothing like hearing about the misery of a future designed by someone else. For the hundredth time that week, he was thankful for the support of his own family. They didn't have a lot, but they supported him and his otherwise stretch dreams. If there was anything that he'd learned the most, it was that a lot of families didn't function that way.

"You should do what you love," As if it were that easy. Ollie pushed the nagging voice in the back of his mind even further back so that he could only focus on the whimsical feeling in his chest. It wasn't for everyone, that feeling.

Oliver shrugged off another compliment, his arm that had been crooked at the elbow fell across Ezra's stomach, his palm upturned and lazy, fingers twitching in the breeze. He hadn't meant it in an overtly affectionate way, but as with most things, he was never all that casual. "No one really knows what they're doing, do they?" He said without taking his eyes from the moon. "S'pose that's the fun of it..." He thought aloud as he pulled his arm back and leaned up on his elbows, looking over at Ezra with a grin.

Ezra was so distracted by Oliver’s arm draped over his stomach that he barely heard anything the other man had said. His heart was racing. What did this mean? Of course, he was just comfortable, being casual or something, but Ezra just wanted to be held a bit. He shifted closer, now letting their thighs touch as he blinked and tried to focus on what the other had said.

“I want to keep doing what I love.” He admitted. “I want us to keep going on with the band, and maybe some comedy or something—my mum’s family made a lot of money doing parody songs, you know.” He smiled. “Maybe…. We could do that, too. Weird Al of the Wizarding World.” Would that joke even land?

“But I guess you’re right. We’re all just spinning in the huge universe, on a big rock. We’re just tiny ants, but I still think we can make a difference. Even as small as we are. We can build something great.” He considered. He looked over at Oliver, smiled, and extended a hand carefully, offering it to the other.

The Weird Al of the Wizarding World?

Ollie blinked, eyes still cast upward at the sky before flicking over to Ezra, watching the side of his face as it moved when he spoke. He imagined it was a reference that he was too far removed from the UK, or far too removed from current pop culture, to have picked up on, so instead of answering he smiled reassuringly.

As if he'd read his mind, the other man mentioned how small they were in the grand scheme of things. It was a concept that he had been grappling with for most of his life. A distant memory of being young, and laying the grass outside of his family home, looking up at the same stars flooded back into his mind. There was the same plaguing feeling in his chest that felt heavy with the idea of it, whilst also utterly useless.

Ollie wasn't sure that memory was a real one, or manufactured, but it struck him all the same.

"I think so, too," He agreed with an exhale— he had always suffered from excruciating optimism. Ezra's hand brushed over the top of his that he'd only just brought back to himself but he did little to put any additional space between them after the fact. Naturally, he couldn't resist the physical expression. Pulling up on an elbow, Ollie gave the man's forearm an affectionate squeeze. "I should get back in soon," He made no real effort to move, though— the drugs, and the sky, and everything, had kept him still.

Ezra loved the physical affection, the feel of Oliver’s hand along his forearm. He felt endorphins bubbling up in his chest, butterflies. He was screwed, totally screwed. He realized, belatedly, that there was something between them that he couldn’t deny. Even if it was one-sided, Ezra’s heart was full an aching. He had forgotten about Circe, for once. “Yeah, I guess. You’re in demand.” He smiled. “Can’t keep you all to myself, no matter how awesome that would be.” He teased.

He stood up, stretching, his head spinning lightly from the drugs. “Don’t forget you promised me an interview.” He smiled, catching Oliver’s eye. “I guess I’ll follow you in. Gotta see Rheya, tell her how great she did tonight, don’t you think?”

He wanted to see Rheya, really, despite how much he didn’t want to leave this electric man’s side. He nodded towards the door. “You ready?”

"You can—" Oliver struggled to his feet after Ezra with some difficulty before finishing his thought. "Have your people call my people," He was constantly looking for ways to jokingly use the phrase that felt a little bit disappointing now that he actually had people who handled that sort of thing. With a laugh, he collected his glass, patted his pockets else he might have left on the hood of the car.

"Really, let me know when suits," He added more seriously. It would be nice, he thought, to see Ezra in his element as opposed to the other way around. "You should," He confirmed with a clap to his shoulder. Ollie liked to think that Rheya may have been wondering where they'd gone off to but he knew how nights like it went. The details started to blur together all too quickly.

"Thanks," He said, even though he was holding open the door. A habit that was hard to break.

fin

Ezra walked into the door as Ollie held it open. Have his people call Oliver’s people, huh? So impersonal, but even so… there was something fantastic about it. “See you around, Rockstar.” He said in fairwell, as he turned away from him and weaved his way through the backstage.  He was thinking about him, still. He was a little high, still. He was remembering Circe now, but his head was still full of thoughts about the universe and how charming he had been. He wondered if he’d ruined it somehow, and Oliver was looking for an excuse—but really, who was he to keep a Rockstar all alone? Oliver had places to be, people to talk to. He wasn’t Ezra’s.

So, as he looked for Rheya, he smiled lightly to himself, humming one of their tunes, and thinking about how he planned to play the album on repeat. Janae had been completely forgotten.

[end]