Oliver shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, his feet shuffling on the tiled floor as he tried to think of what to say next. Echa’s words might be saying that he knew there was something else wrong, or he might just be asking more about Seth. It was difficult to say and although Oliver guessed it was the former, he wished it was the latter.
We’re trying out every other day, see if that will work, so he won’t just force himself/ on her/ out. Oliver visibly flinched as he accidentally let a couple of words slip, but it was so hard not to when there was so much going on in his head, so much he wanted to say, but so much he wanted to hide as well. He lifted his hands to rub over his face, trying to think clearly but after a moment he simply shook his head.
Echa, I did something. You’re going to hate me. I don’t want to get in trouble, but I didn’t know what else to do, he thought to his teacher quickly, running the words together swiftly in his mind, trying to stop anything else from slipping through. His bright blue eyes, full of worry, settled on Echa once more as he bit gently on his lower lip. What if Echa really hated him for this? What if he killed him, or took him to the Oligarchy? What would happen to Heather? But he had to help him, he wouldn’t hurt him, surely? He hadn’t just turned her and let her loose like had happened to him, he’d taken care of her, made sure she didn’t kill anyone, although Seth hadn’t been much help on that part.