Liam didn't take Oliver back to the school clinic where people would stare and ask questions. Instead, he led him through a side gate and drove him straight to his parent's masssive mansion. The mansion was grand and imposing, but currently, it felt like a silent fortress.
Inside, they were met by Mrs Phillips, the kind-hearted maidservant who had worked for Liam's family for years.
She gasped when she saw their disheveled states. Liam with his split lip and Oliver , trembling and covered in mud.
"Not now, Mrs Phillips ," Liam said firmly but gently. "Just bring some warm water and antiseptic...and also a change of clothes to my room. And please, don't tell my parents when they call from their trip."
Liam led Oliver upstairs to his bedroom -a vast, modern space that smelled faintly of cologne and cedarwood. He sat Oliver down on the edge of the plush bed. Oliver felt like a stain on the pristine white sheets, his torn uniform, a stark contrast to the luxury around him.
A few minutes later, Mrs Phillips knocked and left a tray of medical supplies and soft clothes. Once she closed the door, Liam knelt on the floor between Oliver's knees.
"Hold still," Liam whispered. He dipped a soft cloth into the warm water and began to wipe the dried blood and dirt from Oliver's face. His movements were incredibly careful, as if he were handling something fragile.
Oliver winced as the antiseptic stung a cut on his cheek. "I'm so sorry," Oliver murmured, his voice still thick from crying. "I'm getting your floor dirty."
"Stop apologizing," Liam muttered, his focus entirely on Oliver's wounds. He moved the cloth down to Oliver's bruised knuckles, cleaning them with a tenderness that made Oliver's heart ache. "I should have been there sooner. I shouldn't have let them touch you."
Nobody had ever treated Oliver this way. His heart felt warm. Was Liam treating him well because he had saved him back at willows valley.
As Liam worked, the silence in the room changed. It wasn't the awkward silence of the night at his grandmother's house, it was a heavy, protective quiet. Liam reached out to unbutton the ruined school shirt, Oliver stiffened for a second.
Liam carefully helped Oliver remove the tattered school uniform, wincing at the sight of the bruises blooming on his ribs and arms.
He gently applied antiseptics and bandages to the cuts and scrapes, his touch careful and kind. He then handed Oliver a fresh, soft T-shirt and sweatpants, his own clothes, explaining they would be more comfortable than the ruined uniform.
As Oliver changed, Liam tended to his own split lip, catching Oliver's gaze in the mirror. The air in the room felt thick with a new kind of intensity. Oliver looked small in Liam's oversized clothes, his pale skin contrasting with the dark blue bruises beginning to bloom.
Liam turned around and walked into his walk in closet, emerging with a crisp, brand new school uniform still in it's plastic wrap.
"Wear this tomorrow," Liam said, holding it out.
Oliver shook his head quickly, his face flushing. "No Liam, I can't. This must have cost a fortune. I'll just try to sew mine....or ask my mom".
"Oliver, it's already shredded." Liam countered, his voice rising in a stubborn way. "Don't be too difficult, you can't go to school during the first week of resumption, looking like you just survived a plane crash. Take it. It's a gift.."
"I don't want to take advantage of you.." Oliver whispered looking at his feet. Liam chuckled.
"Then consider it a loan that you'll never have to pay back," he snapped playfully, shoving the uniform into Oliver's hands. "Take it, or I'll dress you in it.."
Oliver finally relented, clutching the fabric to his chest. Liam then handed him two white pills and a glass of water. "Painkillers. Take them now, or you won't be able to get out of bed tomorrow."
Just as Oliver swallowed the medicine, a loud knock sounded on the bedroom door. Tommy burst in, carrying two heavy school bags.
He stopped dead in his tracks, looking from the bruised Liam to the disheveled Oliver in Liam's clothes.
"I still can't believe my eyes," Tommy muttered, dropping the bags on the floor. "The 'ice king' Liam actually caught a stray bullet for someone, and it's Oliver." He shook his head, though there were a hint of smile. "Here are your bags."
Tommy didn't stay long, sensing the heavy atmosphere. Once he left, Liam grabbed his leather jacket and a pair of keys. "Come on. I'm taking you home."
They walked down to the garage.
"Hop on," Liam said, handing Oliver a spare helmet.
Oliver hesitated. "On this?, it looks....fast,"
"Hold onto me,"Liam replied. "I won't let you fall.."
As they rode out of the driveway, Oliver had no choice but to wrap his arms tightly around Liam's waist. The roar of the Ducati Panigale V4 engine echoed through the quiet streets as they sped away from the mansion. Oliver pressed his chest against Liam's back, feeling the vibration of the powerful machine and the warmth of Liam's body through his leather jacket.
He squeezed his eyes shut, his arm trembling as he gripped Liam's waist. For a boy with such a quiet, cautious life, the speed was terrifying, yet strangely liberating.
Liam seemed to sense Oliver's fear for he reached down with one hand and briefly squeezed Oliver's arm, a silent command to hold on tighter.
When they pulled up at the modest street where Oliver lived, the contrast was sharp. The sleek, black Italian motorcycle looked like a spaceship parked in front of the small, weathered houses. Liam killed the engine, and the sudden silence felt heavy.
Oliver dismounted shakily, handing back the helmet. "Thank you Liam...for everything"
Liam stayed on the bike, his visor up, looking at Oliver with an expression that is neither cold nor mocking. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the remains of the Newton's cradle.
"It's broken," Liam said, his voice low. "I'll get you a better one."
Oliver was not comfortable. He didn't like it when people treat him too nicely, especially if out of pity. But he cannot bring himself to refuse Liam's generosity.
Liam glanced at Oliver's bruised face. "See you tomorrow at school, Oliver. Don't let George or anyone else scare you. They have to go through me now."
Without waiting for a reply, Liam kicked the bike into gear and sped off, the red taillights disappearing into the darkness. Oliver stood on the sidewalk for a long time, clutching the new uniform.
As he walked into his house, he checked his phone. There was a single text from an unknown number, but he knew exactly who it was.
"Sleep well. Don't forget the painkillers.."
Oliver's eyes moistened. Why is he treating him this way?. This is too much .
"Thanks"
Oliver texted back, the pain in his ribs feeling just a little bit lighter...