There wasn't much about Oliver that wasn't a contradiction. The series of strict rules and moral codes that dominated his own judgment of those around him were heavily annotated with exceptions for his own failings. While honesty was valued above all else, his own secrets and feelings were left heavily guarded and unspoken. The idea of him needing somebody, anybody, was too terrifying a concept to allow but it didn't stop Oliver from seeking constant reassurance that he himself was not so easily replaceable. He was insecure but had little tact in comforting others with words. He was quick to anger but stubborn enough to refuse to change his personality that required a large patience to tolerate on a good day. He was selfish, needy, distant, suffocating, difficult, and though the annotations made their excuses with their neat historical references and explanations, Oliver knew the truth - he was a hypocrite, nothing more.

"You just always want what you can't have," Janie had said, simple and matter of fact, the statement not requiring enough thought to distract her as she sat cross-legged on the floor of her apartment sorting bills. It was true, being his sister for 33 years allowed Janie to know that better than anyone, but it felt far from simple for Oliver. Protest came in the form of a grunt and Oliver rolled over on her couch until his face pressed into the cushions, a hand waving above his head to dismiss the conversation. The truth was what he wanted, he swore it all the time, and yet more often than not the truth was not what he needed to hear.

Did he want what he couldn't have? Maybe, but hadn't he wanted it before he knew it wasn't his to have? He supposed what was important was if he still wanted it when he was allowed. Would he? That he didn't know. The real problem was, Oliver was realizing, that he didn't really know what he wanted. He wanted things to be effortless, easy, right, and yet he complicated whatever he touched.

He hadn't realized Janie had moved until he felt her sit on his back and flick at his ear. "You're wallowing, stop wallowing." His head turned to glare at her but the smile on his sister's face was soft and kind and he knew she was right. Wallowing didn't suit him, but running? Running definitely did. The next morning he said his goodbyes and got on the first plane out of New York.