They attempted to pour wine in front of him as well, but Oliver waved them away, and requested fruit tea. Even more than ever did Oliver mistrust himself with alcohol. It was never his favoured thing, but now with his heart in turmoil was it even less so. He feared most of all doing something without realizing that he had done it – in having his body act entirely of its own whims, in a fit of madness, driven by his stormy heart, only for his mind to catch up after the fact.
That had happened more than once, when the terror had properly gripped him, and he had found himself a good time later, gripping Nila in a fierce hug and quivering, not knowing quite how he'd gotten there. That to him was one of the most terrifying things that he could experience.
