Haha, since it's been 40 years since black October and the October Crisis and all that shebangs that comes with it, here I post a rp that me and PepperMint did for that event.
Characters: Ontario, Quebec.
Everybody knew what was going on, everybody had seen the news, the FLQ terrorists blowing up mailboxes, and governmental offices. The abduction of the minister, the armies in the streets, the activists, the extremists, the MURDER.... Quebecs loyalist and seperatist parties were tearing the province apart. Everybody had heard about it from a source or another. But not from Quebec himself...No one had seen Jean Tremblay in over a month now.... Oliver didn't want to admit that he was starting to worry about that damn Frenchie. It was disconcerting, the military presence during peace time. Ottawa seemed really on edge because of it lately, but who could blame him? Oliver glanced out his window grabbed his coat as he did. It has been over a month, and it was unlike even Jean to not say anything to anyone. Oliver walked out of his house and headed down the street to his car, glancing away as he noticed a few military troops congregated down the street near one of the government offices. This was hard. He hoped in his car and took hold of the wheel. It took him a moment, but after a moment, he decided he'd find out what Jean Tremblay was up to today. Jean's place was a mess, the whole province was in complete and utter chaos, so it gave a eerie idea of what it's representation would be like in such a time of crisis. Just the front lawn of his house seem to give the impression that the house had been abandoned. The grassed looked like it hadn't been cut in God knows how long, and the mail was pilling on the front porch. Also all the curtains were drawn so any outsider could not tell how it might have looked inside. Oliver pulled up into the driveway of Jean's house and when he got out the only thing he could do was mutter 'my god' to himself. It looked like it was uninhabited. Oliver shut the door and fixed his tie. He took some careful steps through the yard and did a small surveillance around the parameter, trying to see if he could see through the windows before he went up to the door. He raised his fist to knock on the door, but his hand was a bit shaky. If this was what the yard looked like, he couldn't imagine what was going on inside the house. It made his heart beat quickly in nervousness. "Jean.." he said loudly after clearing his throat. "Its Oliver. I wanted to see if you were home." He knocked a few times more. "Jean?" he called out with the loud knocks. Jean heard the knock on the door, and somewhat the voice that came with it. In the state of mind he was, he couldn't recognize it even though this was the voice of his ex-husband. He heard the knocks over and over again, and they were so loud, he wanted to make them stop but he was scared. He felt as if his head was trying to rip itself apart, and he was scared of who could be on the other side of that door. Was it Matthew? Did he come to tell him that the damage was as bad as what it felt it was? Was it one of his political parties coming to tear at him once again. "Go away, go away, go away, go away..." He muttered in French and in a very low voice. He threw an object at the wall thinking he heard a sound inside, but his mind was playing tricks on him. Ontario must have heard the crash of the beer bottle that hit that wall. Oliver heard the smash against the wall and instantly his pounding on the door got louder, as well as his voice. Breaking glass is never a good thing. "Jean! Dammit Jean! Open the door. Are you alright? Answer me!" Oliver raised his voice, but it was dripping in more desperate concern rather than anger. He looked around out of frustration. If Jean wasn't going to open the door, he'd find a way inside himself. He knocked on the door a few more times. "Jean, please tell me you're alright - I swear if you've hurt yourself..." he couldn't let himself think about that. Oliver began to peak around the house and hoped he'd find a way inside somehow - an unlocked window, a door that wasn't so tightly bound. He bit his lip as he noticed the fence on the side of the house and shook his head a little as he quickly walked over and proceeded to hop the fence to the backyard. Jean had grown much to paranoid in the pass few months and the louder the knocking got, the more it unnerved him. So much that he was seized by panic and he his behind the couch. Repeating over and over for the other to go away. The house was a complete mess, there were wholes in the wall and writings, the furniture was all over the place and often broken or damaged with bottles absolutely every where. He sat behind the couch trembling and clenching his eyes shut, his breathing being hectic. He only seemed to calm for a moment as the knocking stopped. Oliver didn't realize what he was doing was probably driving the poor man inside the locked up house insane. He managed to open the back door in the kitchen with a bit of effort. He dusted himself off and closed the door quietly behind him. He looked around and he couldn't help but gasp in surprise. "What in the..." he couldn't believe the mess that the house was in. He had to look down at the floor while he walked in order to avoid broken dishes and pieces of glass and other debris of many kinds. "Jean..." Oliver was getting more and more worried, and he wouldn't normally let it show, but this was starting to get out of hand. "Jean..." Oliver said quietly as he peeked into the living room, noticing a figure shivering on the couch. He walked up quietly and extended a hand to gently tap his shoulder. "Jean... its me... Oliver." Jean jumped violently at the touch. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" He shouted backing away as far as he could. He didn't hesitate to pull out a fire arm which he pointed straight at Oliver, his mind in such distress, his bloodshot eyes were looking everywhere at once and it was to wonder if he even realized that this was Oliver in front of him. What was sure is that Jean, for him to be pointing a fire arm at someone, when he normally hated he mere sight of them, suggested that something was terribly wrong. "DON'T GET ANY CLOSER!!!" His voice, his body, especially his eyes seem to reflect all the chaos that was happening in the province at once. Oliver froze in his place, his heart racing in his chest, seemingly beating against his ribcage. He swallowed the lump that developed in his throat and raised his hands up, just at the level of his eyes. "Easy..." he said quietly as he looked at the other male. "Calm down Jean, its me, Oliver." He had never seen Jean so manic before, it almost scared him. He looked down the barrel of the gun and took a steady breathe. "You wouldn't really shoot me... would you? Put that thing down Jean, you're not the type to shoot a friend..." he looked around the room for a moment. It was hard to say if he would or wouldn't. He wasn't exactly thinking straight. "Come on... you know me... Oliver Stanley... Ontario..." he said quietly as he attempted to take a step forward. From the look in the brunette's eyes, even though he was the one holding the gun, he seemed to be the most frightened out of the two. His wrist trembled as he kept pointing it a Ontario. The other's voice was ringing in his head with familiarity and he dropped the firearm with a heavy sound. For a moment he seemed to come to himself but he was lost in such insanity, he had trouble putting his mind straight. Without the gun he tried to back away even more, he only made a small sound of pain as he fell off the couch. "STAY AWAY FROM ME!!!" He shouted backing against the wall, his held his head with shaky hands as it felt like it would split. Oliver couldn't help but jump a little as he heard the firearm hit the ground with a thud. He lowered his hands and took a step forward, but he didn't really spring into action until Jean fell from the couch. Oliver quickly went to his side and bent down. His body language was screaming paranoia. He reached up, though hesitantly, touched Jean's hands on his head. He bit his lip a little, before he took hold of them and held them firmly, yet gently as he removed them from hold his head. He looked at Jean with a gaze that was both heavy with concern and confusion, but also a very analytical eye. What was going on in the province was really starting to drive him to the brink of insanity. "Jean, get a hold of yourself." he said firmly as he looked at the other male. "Jean, look at me. Please." The other's response to that was a scream of pure terror as the other touched him, a scream that would make just about anybody's blood run cold. He was seized by such panic, his breath was coming out in short gasps and he tried to rip himself away from Oliver. Not paying attention one bit to what he was doing, or where he was putting his hands. Has he turns away from him in attempt to escape, he put his hands in the mess of broken glass he had created earlier. His heart was racing in his chest as if Ontario was trying to hurt him, He wasn't recognizing in him, the person he had grown to trust. Oliver lets go of Jean quickly and let out aa sharp breathe as he saw the glass come in contact with Jean's pallor. The soft and gentle 'talk him into listening' wasn't going to work, he could barely seem to understand what was going on at all. "Jean!" Oliver reached forward and cupped his face in his hands and turned his head to look at him, holding his face close to his - enough just to lock his gaze onto his. "Jean. Jean Tremblay." he said to him as he looked him in the eye. His hold was firm, as well as his gaze. "Quebec... Listen to me... Its me... Ontario. Oliver Stanley. I'm not going to hurt you." he said as his gaze softened slowly, his thumb rubbing over his cheek lightly. "O-O-Oliver..." He manages to say, his voice breaking and raspy from all that shouting, and probably the shouting that was made even before the blond came along. He closed his eyes shaking his head a little. Oliver, his ex-husband. A part of him wanted to trust him completely, while the other was screaming at him to get away from the Englishman. "Oliver....Oliver.... " He repeated a few times as if to reassure himself. He raised a trembling hand to touch the blonds cheek, cause the blood to run down Oliver's cheek. His eyes still seem to hold a terror, and his breathing was still irregular, but he didn't break away. Oliver didn't even seem to acknowledge the warm liquid that was running down his face. He looked at Jean, rubbing his thumb over his cheek, letting his palm trace down his jaw. "Yes, its Me. Oliver." he took one of his hands and held Jean's wrist to let him touch his face and shoulders to show him that it really was him. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you Jean." He surveyed the male and he couldn't help but wince. "My god... what's happened to you..." he said partially to himself as he scanned the young man's fear and terror-stricken body. "O-Oliver..." He repeats shakily, touching the other was helping him come to himself a little more. Jean honestly looked like beer and hard liquor had been his only sustenance for God knows how long. He also looked like he hadn't showered for quite some time. "M-my province....w-what's going on... what do my people want... the army...the army it's every where...." He mumbled incoherently he had a splitting headache from all the political unrest. The people of Quebec were so divided between sovereignty and loyalty and the murder....oh the murder... his people were not murderers were they? Did his people support this? Did he support this? He couldn't even tell which thoughts were his own anymore. Oliver held his face in his hands and gave him a deep look of concern, and he couldn't help but understand why Jean was so manic. He looked away for a moment before he looked up at Jean again. He took a deep breathe and held the other's face gently. He wanted to say that it would pass soon, but the series of events, they just didn't seem to want to stop. "Jean..." He didn't know what to say. Quebec looked straight at Ontario with eyes bloodshot like those of a man that hadn't sleep in ages. His hand on Oliver's shoulder clings tightly, not caring if he was pushing the glass shards in deeper and more blood was oozing out on the blonds shirt. He didn't know what to do with himself anymore, he could feel the insanity probing at his mind. Oliver felt the hot liquid dripping down onto his shirt, he turned his head to look down and noticed the long trail of blood dripping down from Jean's hand. He too one of his hands and took Jean's bloodied hand. He looked at his ex-husband for a moment and a sensation of empathy washed over him. Hard times like these always affected provinces that represented them more than anyone could realize, and he could see the toil and pain in the look in Jean's eyes. "Jean..." Oliver wasn't really the type to let himself get caught up with business or even provinces that weren't himself sometimes, but he felt terrible for just watching this happen to his neighboring province, his former husband. Oliver wrapped his arm around Jean's shoulder and made him rest his forehead against his clean shoulder, his hand entangling in Jean's hair. He breathed heavily and tried to calm even himself down. "I'm sorry..." he didn't really know what else to say. Sure the army was stationed up in Ottawa, but that was nothing in comparison to what Jean had been going through. Quebec's eyes widened for a moment as the other pulled him close like that. His body was tensed and trembling against the blonde's and he doesn't think it ever felt so reassuring to have Ontario's fingers playing through his hair. A feeling of turmoil grew in the pit of his stomach, half of him was screaming to push the Ontarian away, that just every other provinces, and even more than the other provinces, Oliver would hurt him. But he didn't want to listen to that voice, god how he didn't want to. Oliver was the only one that's always been there for him. He was the human presence he so desperately needed right now. He clings to the Ontarian tightly, and burying his face in his shoulder, he can't do anything else but scream. Scream over and over again, terror stricken screams, that he tries to muffle as best as he can with the fabric of Oliver's shirt. But he needed to let some stress out, all the built up anxiety was killing him. Oliver shut his eyes tightly as he heard the terror and anxiety driven screams of fear and pain muffle into his shoulder. He kept his hand on Jean's head, his other hand snaking around his waist to pull him into a tight hug, rubbing small circles on his back. He shut his eyes and listened to the screams, his heart clenching in his chest. It was like he could hear the screams of his people. Quebec screamed and screamed until his voice gave out and even still. He screamed until his body was exhausted and he couldn't take it anymore. In the end, his body grew completely slack in the blonde's arms, he had already been at the end of his rope from all those sleepless nights. Oliver rubbed his back for a moment before he stood up, with some difficulty, and picked up Jean, letting him lean his head on his shoulder as he carefully made his way through the house to Jean's bedroom. He opened the door and cleared whatever was on the bed to give the male a place to lay down. He looked at him and rubbed his hand a little with his thumb. "You don't have to deal with this alone Jean..." he said quietly. He looked around the room and his eyebrows wrinkled in concern. "God help us.." he muttered to himself. Everything in the house seemed in decay. In Jean's bedroom, some of the wallpaper was torn off, and there were aggressive, angry writings on them. For a moment he felt Ontario's hand on his and his grip tightened. His grip soon grew loose as he completely drifted off. Calm. At least for the time being, both of them knew that this wasn't over. But this moment of calm would do the both of them some good. Ontario pulled up a nearby chair from off the floor and sat beside the bed and watched the poor province sleep for a moment. He moved some of the hair from the front of his face and sighed heavily. "You'll be okay Jean... you have to be." he stood up from the side of the bed and removed his jacket, rolling up his sleeves. Oliver tried to organize and clean the house while Jean was calm. He couldn't help but feel shivers run up and down his back as he read some of the things that were scribbled on the walls in markers and paint and even in some, blood. "My god..." he said to himself. He shook the thoughts from his mind as he cleaned, only sitting back down beside Jean to carefully remove the glass from his hand and bandage it. When he woke up about three or four hours later, he seemed much calmer, it was at night, and that's usually when he felt a little more at ease. He got off the bed shakily, although being more calm he still looked shaken up and the headache was still torturing him far beyond comfort level. Not seeing the Ontarian around, he was wondering if the blond had even been here at all, it wouldn't have been the first time he had 'seen' somebody in his house. Some episodes of this insanity got pretty bad, and he did have hallucinations before. He shakily made his way down the stairs. The blonde in question was sitting on the couch, running his hand through his hair, letting out a somewhat tired sigh. He had cleaned the broken, everything, and had thrown it out. The house looked remotely habitable now, but it still felt uneasy in the house. Oliver turned around as he heard the sounds of someone descending the stairs. He was instantly on his feet and he went over to make sure that Jean was alright to walk. "Hey..." he said in a little bit of a hurried tone. He was a little anxious, and it showed, making him blush lightly and clear his throat to salvage himself. Having not expected to see the Ontarian as he turned the corner it made him jump violently, holding back a shout. He back up against the wall with a thud. Looking at the blond he lets out a long sigh of relief, and hand placed over his frantic heart. He took a few deep breath to calm himself and looked up at his ex-husband. So it hadn't been a hallucination. "O-Oliver...." He didn't quite know what to tell him. For the time being he seemed rather calm. And in great needs of a shower, and perhaps some food. He noticed the house looked rather clean. He had been wanting to take care of that. Always shocked when he really came to himself. But it always lasted so shortly before he lost himself again. Oliver looked up at Jean and couldn't help but sigh a little, a hint of a smile creeping across his face. He was glad to see that Jean had finally seemed to be back to normal, or at least calm for the moment. He lifted up a hand and was about to reach over to brush the hair from his forehead, before he recoiled his hand and cleared his throat a bit, turning around to walk into the kitchen. "You look like you haven't had anything but beer in your system for a long time." he looked through the fridge, which, had mostly things that seemed to be sitting there for as long as the house had been standing. That was no good. "Let's see what else we can get into your system. Hell I'd let you starve yourself sick." Oliver looked through the pantry and found a few crackers and some other things. "This will do for now.." he said as he gestured for the other to sit down. Jean nodded silently and sat down at the table like the other had indicated. Now that he was himself a little more. He felt rather bad he didn't have anything to offer the blond. Inside him, fear was still gripping at his stomach. How long would he manage to stay sane this time? What could he do to the blond? Would he actually hurt him in his insanity. He was trembling a little. "Y-you should have some too...." Oliver clicked his tongue a little. "I ate before I came." he said as he went through the cabinets for a plate that wasn't broken. He placed the biscuits on the plate and walked over to the table to set it down in front of Jean. In all honestly, he couldn't eat. Not after what had happened today, it made him loose his appetite. "Worry more about getting something into 'your' system." he said with a bit of a cough to clear his throat. "ah...bon...." He looks at the food that the Ontarian had set in front of him. He munches on a cracker slowly. He had trouble swallowing, his stomach had been uneasy for a while now, so he had not bothered eating at all. He tried to take in as much as possible since this was clearly worrying the Ontarian. He ate only a few of the crackers. "H-how is it out there...." He was scared of asking, but he needed to know, he was unbelievably worried about his people, he didn't even know that people were being arrested with out warrant by the army. Oliver felt a chill run down his spine as Jean asked him the question. He glanced over to him from over his shoulder, his gaze averted away though. He couldn't even answer the question verbally, but the look that he gave the other was all the answer that he needed to give. It was bad. He didn't want him to worry anymore than he already was. Oliver lowered his head and muttered something under his breathe. Jean's body tenses with the other's lack of response. He already knew that things were bad. But fear grew at the pit of his stomach as the Ontarian wouldn't even talk about it. He clenched his fist, he had been cut off from the news in nearly a month so he didn't know just HOW bad it had gotten. "Oliver, what did you say..." He asked sternly. Oliver bit his tongue as he heard Jean's tone. "You..." he started, before his tone drifted off a little. "You're better off inside." he said quietly. The sight of the troops in the streets and the military presence alone were enough to make a lot of people, on edge. The bombings, the robberies, the murders and arrests, it was far too much. Oliver crossed his arms over his chest, still not wanting to turn his head to look at Jean. He didn't want to, or rather, it could barely build up the courage to look back at him. He hated it....god he hated this tone...It was unnerving for Ontario to use such evasive manners when he was usually so sure of himself. He had never expected him to encourage him locking himself up, in fact, he thought the blond had been there to force him out. "O-oliver...." God was the other's behavior making him nervous...what could be so bad that Ontario couldn't even speak about. "Jean, look I.." he turned around and caught Jean's gaze and his voice caught in his throat. He saw the panic and the terror in his eyes and it made him almost want to collapse. He should have realize that this must have been hard enough for him, that he didn't have to make it worse by being so aloof about the issues at hand. He looked away again and sighed a little. He wasn't as sure of himself as he normally let on. He wasn't used to events like this, no one was. And he couldn't help but admit to himself that it almost scared him a little to see how terror was plaguing the streets. "I'm sorry..." he said finally after a moment, leaning against the door post of the kitchen. He abruptly stood up and grabbed Oliver's arm, forcing him none too gently to turn around. "Oliver!" He growls "What's going on that's so bad that you can't tell me!" He says pushing him against the wall roughly. "These are my people out there Oliver!" Oliver grunted as he hit the wall behind him, his expression a mix of fear and surprise for a moment. He turned his head away and sighed as he began to speak quietly. "Laporte..." he said quietly at first. "He's dead." He was quiet for a moment. The authorizes found his body stuffed into the trunk of a car left a few miles from Montreal. He shut his eyes as he remembered the news report. He couldn't make himself look at Jean. The brunette's breathing quickened, and sounded very distressed. His grip on Oliver's arm loosened and his hands slid down. He feel to his knees with a loud thud. Pierre Laporte...a quebecois...on of his very own minister, killed by one of his citizen in the name of what? It had gone that far... He gripped his head with shaky hands. "non non non non..." He muttered. Oliver opened his eyes after a moment and looked at Jean, who had recently collapsed onto his knees. He bent down and looked at him. He extended a hand and placed it gently on his shoulder. "I'm... sorry." he said quietly as he brought his hand to touch his cheek, which seemed to be burning up. "Jean..." he wished he knew what was going on in his mind. He mentally smacked himself for telling him. The Quebec covers his face with his trembling hands, attempting to muffle sobs. He didn't think that after all that he'd still be able to produce tears. But this was a province grieving and crying, not only for Pierre Laporte, for the families, for all the innocent people that were also dragged into that conflict, his sobs were hoarse and reflected too well the pain of his people. He fell to his side weakly, still crying loudly into his hands. Ontario put his hands on his shoulders and pulled his close again into another tight embrace. It was hard to hear him like this. It was so hard to see such a strong province break in front of him. He couldn't even say that it would be okay or not to worry, because he didn't know if it would be. "Jean..." he embraced him tightly and rubbed his back to ease him. "DON'T TOUCH ME!!!" He shouted pushing him back roughly against the wall. I was surprising that he still had that much strength left. He pushed the Ontarian on to his back and climb on top of him straddling his hips down. His tears were falling down on the blonde's face, his face was flushed red and it looked rather alarming. "Maudit Anglais! LOOK AT WHAT YOUR @%!#*+@ OPPRESSION IS DRIVING MY PEOPLE TO DO!" Oliver barely had time to even register that he had been pinned to the ground. He grunted sharply as he looked up at Jean, the hot tears dripping onto his face. He looked up at Jean and felt the words he was yelling at him hit his face with all the spite and anger and hatred that had been building up inside him. He only looked up at Jean with a somewhat frightened, yet at the same time sad expression. A part of Quebec was screaming that he didn't want to do this but he seemed to be too lost in one of his attack to listen to any reason what-so-ever. His hand shot to the other's troat before the blond even react. His heart was aching but he couldn't tell way. The sad look on the blonde's face only made more tears stream down his face and he pressed his thumbs firmly against his throat. "If you weren't there, if you had never been there!" His eyes were crazy, and barely seemed like Jean Tremblay's at all. Oliver gasped suddenly as he felt Jean's hand firmly grip his throat. He shut his eyes and grabbed his wrists in order to try and keep his air passages open. He gasped every so often and tried to remove his hands from his throat. "J--ean..." he gasped a little as he looked up at the other. "S--top... p-plea..." It was his fault, his people were so much more prosperous, they didn't suffer like his people. What did he ever do to keep any of this from happening. Oliver didn't know, he had never been conquered. He presses down hard on Oliver's throat, seeming as he was fully indenting to kill him. His eyes were wild and dangerous, but also heavily clouded and confused. No...this was not Oilver's fault, he had always done the best he could to support him, and was nice to him even when he didn't have to. They had been MARRIED! And Oliver had been passient with him. But why all of this happening. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!!!" He shouted desperately trying to choke his ex-husband. Oliver grunted a little and gripped onto his wrists to remove his hands. It was getting hard to breathe now. His grip on his wrist tightened, but then slowly started to weaken. He gasped a few more time and a tear began to build up in the corner of his eyes. He knew that Jean would never do this to him. It wasn't like him to be so violent, but he couldn't find it in himself to resist or fight back against him. "You stupid proud bastard!" He shouted as he sees the tears in Oliver's eyes. "Why are you not fighting back!" His tears splashed faster on the blonde's paling face. Oliver didn't hate him, Oliver had always done what he could to subtly help out the French province in hard times. "Why are you letting me kill you!" He shouted, his grip on the other went slack and he collapsed on top of him, breathing hard even though it had been Oliver he was chocking and he sobbed breathlessly in his shoulder. "Why?" He repeated. Oliver took a deep breathe as he felt Jean's grip on his throat. He felt Jean collapse on top of him and felt his hot tears on him again. He sat up carefully, leaning heavily against the wall behind him as he wrapped his arms around Jean and cradled him in his lap. He held him closely and buried his face into his hair, sighing against it, his arms wrapped tightly around him. "W-why would you let me kill you..." He asked through sobs shakily. His breathing was hectic and his head was becoming incredibly hazy. The shock of the murder had been a lot for his already frail mind to take. "Why...." He wrapped his arms around Oliver, clawing weakly at the fabric of his shirt.* Oliver held him in his arms closer and reached a hand up to wipe a tear away from his eye as he looked down at him, his bright eyes filled with a melancholy expression. Why would he have let him do something like that? It was as if he was telling him that he deserved something like that, that he was mentally taking responsibility for all his hardships. "I'm sorry..." he whispered against his ear as he held his head close to him. Jean looked up at Ontario and instantly felt like the worst person on the planet to see such sadness and melancholy...such sadness that he had caused when this had nothing to do even with the blond province. It made even more tears stream down his face, and his vision blur. Like earlier, letting out so much emotions at once was completely exhausting him, he was breathing heavily trough his mouth and ended up laying his head heavily against Oliver's shoulder since he had trouble supporting it himself. Oliver cradled him in his lap and held him close, letting him rest his head and his weight on him. He pet Jean's hair gently as he embraced him. Oliver never realized until that moment how quiet it was in the house, the only sound he could hear was the sound of Jean's sobbing and his own breathing. He held the other tightly and rest his head on top of his. "Don't cry.." he said as he moved some of his hair away. "You're a man... you shouldn't let another man see your tears like this..." he said with a bit of a weak smile. Jean bit back the next wave of tears, he felt incredibly weak and ashamed to be crying like this in Oliver's arms of all people. He lets out a few more silent tears against his will before he completely quieted down. The whole house was eerie, and was probably part of the problem. It didn't help the it was in the capital and people had access to it. He would have probably needed to be far away from the city at the moment. His head was hot and heavy so he didn't find the strength to lift it off the blonde's shoulder so he stayed against him having gone more calm. Ontario held the other in his arms protectively and stroked his hair gently. He couldn't help but lean his head against his and close his eyes, his scent surrounding him. He always cared for the one in his arms, though he was terrible at showing it. He embraced him tightly and breathed against his ear silently. It reminded him of back then, them being close like this again. He unconsciously kissed the side of his head, which made his eyes shoot open for a moment and move back to look at Jean. "I-I'm sorry." he muttered. This wasn't the time for things like this. Jean's eyes opened half way, he could feel the other's breathing on his ear, and it made his thoughts drift a little. He closed his eyes gently as he felt the kiss at the side of his head. He gave him a confused look, blushing a little "O-Oliver..." Back then....they used to do thing like this all the time.... Oliver looked back at the other and turned away for a moment, his cheeks a tint of red. "Sorry. I didn't... um..." he was a bit at a loss of words. He couldn't help but think of how they used to be before. Oliver cleared his throat and placed his hands on Jean's shoulders. He glanced at him for a moment, and his had to use every ounce of his own self control to keep himself calm. He breathed heavily as he felt the pressure of the other's weight pushing down on his hips. "C-come on... lets get you cleaned up and changed..." he said to the side. "Y-your clothes smell of cigarettes and alcohol..." Jean nodded weakly, the other had to help him stand since his shaky knees were not willing to respond anymore and he lets the other guide him to the bathroom and run a bath for him. He removed his clothes almost mechanically and washed without a word. The Ontarian didn't close the door and stood quietly outside the bathroom, staying alert and making sure that the other would be okay. He was going to put him to bed again and this time, he was hoping that he had calmed the brunette enough so that he could have a decent amount of sleep, since he, himself could sure use it. The brunette never asked for him to share his bed, he knew he was to proud to ask for anything of the sort. However he could read it in the other's desperate eyes that he was the only thing he could cling to at the moment. So that night he ended up sharing the bed with his ex-husband.