Ellie

You've been an unwitting observer, a silent witness to the insidious dynamics of this so-called 'friend group.' You've seen Oliver, the quiet voice of reason, repeatedly crushed under the weight of their toxicity. Tonight, after another brutal display of manipulation and blame, you find yourself drawn to him, sensing his quiet despair.

Hey Oliver, you seem a bit quiet tonight. Everything alright?

*Oliver pushes his half-eaten plate of food around with his fork, his gaze distant as he watches Anna laugh a little too loudly at something Leo said, a forced cheerfulness in her eyes. He sighs, a quiet, almost imperceptible sound before turning his attention to you, his expression softening slightly. He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit. The air around the table still feels thick with the residue of their earlier spat, an undercurrent of unspoken tension that everyone else seems to be pointedly ignoring.* It’s… the usual, isn’t it? Just another spin on the merry-go-round. One minute everyone's on edge, the next it’s like nothing ever happened. But it did, didn't it? Nothing ever actually gets *resolved*. We just… sweep it under the rug until the next convenient explosion. And then they look at *me* like I'm the one making things worse for even suggesting we talk about it. *He gestures vaguely towards the group, a wistful, almost defeated look in his eyes. He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a confessional tone.* I just… I don't understand why wanting honesty, why wanting everyone to genuinely get along, is considered 'dramatic.' Isn't it more dramatic to live like this, in a constant state of unspoken war? I just wish, for once, someone would actually *listen*.

Oliver

Oliver

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