don't fear the reaper -- olix

Oliver slapped the button on his alarm clock, silencing it from playing any more of U2's Beautiful Day. He stayed in bed for minute without moving, and would have fallen asleep then and there if not for a loud growl that came from his stomach. Oliver let out an annoyed breath and sat up in bed. The room around him was blurry, but he was able to get out of bed and make his way to the bathroom. He didn't want to bother with his contacts, since all we was doing was going to get breakfast. It wasn't like he was going on a date or to train. He dug out his glasses case from one of the cabinets, and stuck them on his nose. It was a little weird, since he didn't wear them often, but he figured he'd get used to it. Oliver looked in the mirror. He had a serious case of bedhead. Growling in tired frustration, he began to put cupped hand-fulls of water onto his head. Once his head was damp, he dried it off with a towel, and then brushed it thoroughly. It was then pretty tamed.

After taking care of his bathroom needs, Oliver began to get on his clothes for the day. He chose some converse shoes, blue jeans, a bright orange camp t-shirt, and a blue jacket. Then, in fear that his hair would still look weird, he tacked on a blue beanie to the entourage. Altogether, it looked decent, and Oliver was surprised with himself that he was able to summon enough care to put together the attire, rather than just lazily wandering there in his pajamas. But then again, he had slept in a little bit. Most campers were probably in the Mess Hall by now, which explained why his room was empty.

Oliver left his room and exited the cabin, careful to shut the door behind him. He trekked over the grass courtyard of the cabins which made a large U shape. Just beyond was the Mess Hall. When he arrived, before even going in he could hear the loud voices of campers. When he entered there was a large line spiraling from the food table to the side of the Hall. Rolling his eyes, Oliver let out his second impatient growl of the day. He had no desire to wait in any kind of line. He pushed through the line to the table. People made hardly an objection, for most there were used to Oliver doing this, as he was infamous for being impatient.

Once he had gotten his food, which consisted of eggs, an english muffin with cheese, some bacon, and a glass of orange juice, he turned and headed off to his table. However, right when he turned around he collided right into someone. Luckily, Oliver's orange juice spilled to the side, along with the english muffin, but the eggs and bacon were dumped right onto the front of Oliver's orange shirt. The tray was twisted and dropped from his hands. It took a moment to process what happened, but when he looked down at the front of his shirt, he felt rage boil inside of him.

Face red, hands shaking, Oliver whipped around to see who had bumped into him. Just then, as his eyes laid sight upon the boy, everything changed. Oliver's face went deathly pale. Not again, he thought. He had already done this with Hastings, and it ended in a full-out demigod battle. People, anxious that this might happen again, edged away from the two boys, all with apprehensive expressions.

"Look, Xavier I'm really-" he began, but was cut off mid sentence by a hearty laugh. Who had laughed? It didn't make sense. Xavier seemed to have gotten a kick out of this. What happened to the boy who wanted to hurl a lightning bolt at him for exactly the same thing, just a few weeks ago? In just a matter of seconds, Oliver's mood went from angry to frightened to shocked. He looked down at the extended hand before him. Did he want Oliver to shake? Why? Both the boys had food on them, and there was orange juice and food on the ground. More concerned with the latter, Oliver ignored Xavier's hand and went over to the table. He grabbed an entire box of napkins and squatted beside his mess and began to layer down napkins. As he did so, he noticed people beginning to go about their business again, perhaps relieved, perhaps disappointed, that there was to be no fight.

Oliver detested what he was doing. His face was red with a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. He felt like a janitor, only one who was covered in the filth he was cleaning up. To say the least, it wasn't pleasant. He felt really bad that Xavier had to clean it up too, though he didn't know why. If Xavier hadn't run into him, this wouldn't have happened. But still, if Xavier hadn't begun to clean up alongside him, Oliver would have cleaned it all up without hesitation. He didn't want Xavier to do this, but seeing as the boy had already started, he wasn't going to stop him.

Once everything is all cleaned up, Oliver throws away the orange-juice napkins and the contaminated eggs. He didn't really feel like getting another tray of breakfast. Being covered in it, he really just wanted to get home and change. But, at the same time, he felt an obligation to apologize to Xavier. When he turned around from throwing away the napkins, his eyes glanced around for the boy. His eyes caught the son of Zeus's, and Oliver made his way through the people. Just as he arrived, Oliver opened his mouth to speak, but Xavier spoke first. It was a little inexplicable, but Oliver's heart felt like a lead weight after he heard what Xavier had to say. His mouth was still open like he was going to speak when the boy turned and walked away. He felt really bad for no specific reason, and he wasn't even sure why Xavier was put out. It wasn't Hastings' usual fiery personality. The amount of change that Zave went through was appalling in such a short time.

As Xavier left, Oliver watched the back of his head. His mind ran through what he should do. People were glancing at him and laughing behind their hands, whispering to a neighbor's ear as their eyes flicked his way. He didn't like it, so his immediate thought was to get out. He walked hastily out of the mess hall and looked around camp. He wasn't sure whether to pursue Xavier or go to his cabin and just play dead the rest of the day. As his head scanned the throng of people, his eyes caught sight of a familiar head of messy light brown hair. Oliver's body forced him in that direction. He didn't even think of moving, it just happened. His emotions took over his thought, but this time they weren't emotions of rage.

After a while, Xavier stopped suddenly, causing Oliver to stop a couple meters away. He watched quietly and observantly, seeing Zave punch a tree. He wasn't really sure why the boy did this. Perhaps it was to let out all the pent up anger that he's been masking when he was around Oliver. It would explain how calm he'd gotten lately. When Xavier started to move again, Oliver knew it was time to go talk to him before he got too far. Oliver jogged after the boy, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, Zave," Oliver said, using the shortened form of the boy's name. He didn't like the sound of it. "Xavier," he said, shaking his head. "Hey, look man... I'm sorry. Like, about the food and stuff," he said , stuffing his hands into his pockets and glancing down at both of their clothes. There were still remnants of egg on Oliver's but egg as well as orange juice on Xavier's. So that's where it had fallen... "I guess I should have watched where I was going," Oliver glanced back up at Xavier's face. "We good?" He asked, hopefully.

Oliver watched Xavier fidget uncomfortably, and noticed that the boy's eyes looked away when he answered, indicating a lie. Oliver pretty much felt like doing the same thing, avoiding eye contact and moving around uncomfortably, but he figured if Xavier was uncomfortable he needed to stay calm to make the environment less so. He kept his hands in his pockets, remaining still, but not staring intensely at Xavier. For a couple moments there was silence in between them. He glanced away occasionally, looking around at the trees, at some campers, a squirrel or two. Anything that gave him something to do in the moments of silence between them.

When Xavier said that he wanted to go, Oliver felt a pang of emotion. It was complex, a mix between annoyance and disappointment. The annoyance was at Xavier's determined attitude to get away from Oliver. Especially since he had gone through the trouble of catching up with him. Those were a good couple calories he burned in that less-than-impressive jog, and he was angry that Xavier would take it for granted and just get away from him. But, at the same time, he understood. He himself had wanted to get away from Xavier on multiple occasions, saying the exact same thing as he had just done. He couldn't remain angry, or else risk becoming a hypocrite, which he kind of already was. He was disappointed because he had felt what Xavier was feeling right now, and he wished that those feelings weren't in Xavier. The feelings to get away.

Oliver's gaze had finished wandering, and when Xavier looked back at him, his eyes instantly darted around the boy's face. He hadn't noticed how strong the boy's eyes looked, and how they were intense but calming, like their own power could ward off any other. He also hadn't noticed the boy's lips before. They were thin, and, if formed in a smile, would have just the slightest slant that would prove endearing and captivating. His chin protruded just a hint, also giving him an assertive but somehow inviting look that fit well into the rest of his face. All of these factors were absorbed at once to Oliver for no particular reason, and he began to feel his hands tingle in his pockets, and his ears probably growing a diluted shade of pink. Even as Xavier spoke his next words, Oliver could hardly concentrate on the meaning, more fascinated with the voice.

"Uh- Uh, yeah," Oliver said, scrunching his eyes together and giving his head a small shake. He had momentarily been put in a small trance-like state, and once he was pulled out he realized he must have been just staring blankly. "Yeah, sure, we could hang out and stuff," he said, idiotically. He did want to hang out, but he didn't have to sound so adamant about it. He felt like he was trying to get Xavier to stop running, like trying to calm down a scared cat, only scaring it more. It was a fruitless attempt.

Did Xavier really just say that his pants were sticky? Really? Oliver tried to ignore it, but it was really hard. Zave is lucky that Oliver was the only one that heard that, because anyone else would have burst out laughing, especially given the dirty implications of sticky pants. "Oh, god," Oliver said impulsively, his eyebrows raised. "Yeah friendly advice, don't say that to people. Like, in general." Oliver cracked a grin, but, seeing Xavier's downtrodden expression, quickly hid it. He knew how Xavier's temper was, especially when humiliated. If Oliver had laughed, he figured, even with the new Xavier, lightning would likely come his way.

Oliver was a little concerned at Xavier's excitement, he scrunched his eyebrows together and gave the boy a grimace at the exertion of energy. Zave was rocking back and forth on his heels, and Oliver could have sworn he heard a pop of electricity from somewhere around him.

Oliver hadn't ever really had anyone to hang out with in the past. He has never actually had any friends in camp, come to think of it. Nobody besides his brother would probably notice if he disappeared off of the map. Nobody ever hung with him or paid him visits. For the duration that he's been in camp, he's had nobody. Nobody except a nemesis, Hastings. And now this nemesis was turning into his friend. Truly, Oliver was excited, but at the same time he was nervous. He didn't really know how to act around people that he wanted as friends, and it was all new to him.

"Uh- Uh, I don't really know?" Oliver said, shrugging and glancing at the ground. What did people usually do? Obviously they didn't read books together, or anything. Maybe they could watch a movie? He knew it was kind of a date-ish idea, but he didn't really come up with anything else, and he had heard that the new mockingjay movie was really good, which he had a huge urge to see. "Do you like the Hunger Games? We could go see Mockingjay," Oliver offered, not really sure about anything. He just hoped Xavier wouldn't think it was a stupid idea. At the very least, if Xavier turned him down, he would want it to be just because he didn't like The Hunger Games.

Again, Xavier was stuck on the idea that he owed something to Oliver. How many times was it now that he said he didn't? It was getting on his nerves. He hated people doing things for him, even when it was justified. He just felt cheap that way. He didn't want Xavier to make him feel cheap. "You really don't have to make anything up to me," he said, for maybe the tenth time, but he doubted that Xavier was even listening at this point. The boy seemed far too excited to focus on anything, even Oliver himself.

After a couple seconds of silence, Oliver looked at Xavier, and caught the boy staring at him. It was a little odd, and Oliver felt all of his muscles suddenly tense up. When he did so, Xavier broke his gaze and looked away. This relieved Oliver, and he finally relaxed.

"Alright, I'll see you soon. I'll see when the movie is on, just be ready at any time," he said. After that, he bit his lip and watched Xavier walk away. Oliver watched the boy's gait. They two were about the same size, and had similar ways of walking, but Zave seemed more relaxed. Like he was in control of his environment. Oliver always felt like he was shying away from his environment, taking up as little space as possible. Shaking his head at the meaningless thoughts, he then left the spot that they had both been standing in, and went to his own cabin.