Neil Steel: Uh-oh! We know Oliver doesn’t handle rejection well.
Oliver Wright: ‘I won’t do this. I’m leaving the villa tonight.’
‘So, should we keep going, or…’ Elliot asked, as they watched Oliver storm off.
‘No,’ Declan said, heading to the kitchen.
Jack followed him. ‘What the hell was that?’
Declan shrugged, opening the fridge and letting the cool air wash over him.
He leaned his head against the metal and squeezed his eyes shut. All week, he’d been rehashing the fight, watching Oliver look miserable and knowing it was his fault. He’d thought putting all his feelings out there could fix it.
‘You okay?’ Maeve asked. Declan wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there.
He didn’t have the energy to plaster on a smile. ‘I—’
‘What’s happening?’ Imogen cut in. Her tone made Declan turn to see a cameraman jogging into the villa, a haggard-looking Brian trailing behind. Without a word, the four of them followed.
It was Oliver, racing around the bedroom, throwing his things into a suitcase.
As bad as Declan had felt before, it was nothing compared to now. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, not keeping the panic out of his voice.
‘I’m leaving,’ Oliver said.
Declan’s stomach dropped. ‘No, you can’t.’ The words were out before he could stop them.
Maeve took a step forwards, shaking her head. ‘Come on, I’m sure we can talk it out,’ she said calmly.
‘I can’t take it any more,’ Oliver said, pacing around the room and running a hand through his already messy hair. ‘Where’s my other shoe?’ He rummaged through his suitcase.
‘Oliver,’ Declan tried, but he got no response. He hated the way his voice sounded, hoarse and weak. This couldn’t be happening. Oliver couldn’t leave.
‘What’s going on?’ Holly and Eavie came in.
‘Oliver’s leaving,’ Imogen said, folding her arms tightly and blinking rapidly as though to hold back tears.
‘Come on, mate,’ Jack said, walking over to clap Oliver on the back. ‘Don’t be silly. We’re nearly there, just a week more.’
Oliver shrugged his hand off. ‘I can’t stay,’ he said, without any discernible emotion.
Jack didn’t seem to know how to respond to that. None of them did. Oliver wasn’t giving them any hope to cling to. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t throwing a fit, this wasn’t for the cameras. It was just over. He was finished, and that was it. They stood there for a moment, not knowing what to say, before Maeve threw her arms around Oliver.
‘I’m going to miss you so much,’ she said.
‘Me too,’ Oliver said, holding her as she cried into his shoulder.
‘Great, now I’m crying,’ Jack said, throwing his arms around them. ‘Ollie boy, you were the best of us.’
Declan frantically searched for words that could make Oliver see reason, could make him stay. His speech had only made things worse. Oliver deserved more than disguised apologies; he deserved the truth.
‘Oliver,’ he said again, voice low. No one around him seemed to hear, but Oliver raised his head and their eyes finally met.
The air rushed out of his lungs, words dying on his tongue. He wanted to reach out, to touch Oliver one last time. But the glare of the camera lens kept him fixed to the spot.
Declan slipped out of bed the next morning as the sun peeked out over the horizon. He dove into the pool, driving his body forwards, feeling his muscles strain to their limit and pushing past even that. He swam until he couldn’t any more, his wrist throbbing as he grabbed the side of the pool and gulped air into his shaking body. He wanted to punch something, to tear his hair out, to make this hurt something he could isolate.
He let himself sink to the bottom of the pool, feeling the bubbles float up around him. Lying flat along the cool tile, he stared at the water above him, the chlorine pricking his eyes. All he could see was blue, endless blue. Declan felt crushed by it. He closed his eyes, but the pressure stayed. It pressed on his lungs that were beginning to burn for want of air, but he couldn’t move. His heartbeat rushed in his ears and his thoughts went fuzzy around the edges. Oliver was gone and it was his own fault.
