It was so quiet, he could hear the clock's hands moving, the only thing breaking the complete silence.
Oliver was in his nightshirt, reading the book he'd taken from Tennyson's study.
He'd never read Dickens before, but he was sure that wasn't the real reason why he couldn't really follow the narrative, the words and letters in front of him were only black spots on the white paper, making no sense whatsoever , as his mind kept drifting to what had happened earlier today.
That, and the fact he hadn’t seen Callum in a while was making things everything but make sense.
The only person that had come talk to him that day was Della.
Neither Adellia, or Jenny and Percy had inquired after the night Callum had gotten home and Oliver decided they’d probably assumed he had just been drunk.
Oli
