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Oliver looked at Paul from the corridor, his heart clenching at the sight of the man playing his guitar on the couch. The bassist held back his tears, he didn't want to be in love with him. He sighed quietly and went back to his bedroom, feeling a dark cloud coming onto him. He fell on his bed and held his blanket to himself. Why would he love you? You're boring, uninteresting, his thoughts tormented him. He closed his eyes, not wanting to be awake. 

 

As you understood, Oliver was in love with Paul, but Paul only saw him as a friend. The bassist knew it, he was sure of it. He didn't want to do anything about it, but as time passed, it became harder and harder to hide it. 

 

Oliver always felt like he was the odd man out, that he really never belonged in Rammstein. He always felt left out, and since he never had anything to say, it made him feel worse. He wished he wasn't that anxious, he wished he didn't overthink everything, but he knew he was like this, and that it wouldn't change.

 

Tears began forming into his eyes. Reality was hard to accept, but it was always right. Paul would never love him, he would stay alone his whole life. He tried to accept that fact, but hope always had a little space on his mind. He knew it was useless, that he was useless, but he tried to not pay attention to it. 

 

Stop hoping that you have a chance with him, Oliver sighed again, his eyes slowly opening, letting tears fall down on the fabric of the covers, you'll end up like the other time, this will only get you hurt, Oliver had asked someone out a while ago, with all the courage he had gotten. The girl was a friend of his, and of course, she didn't see him as more. Oliver had cried a lot, but never showed his sadness to anyone. He suffered in silence, because that was what real fighters did. 

 

He sniffed and held the covers tighter. He was too scared. He didn't want to take the risk of losing Paul like he did for the other girl. He didn't talk about his crush to anyone, he didn't want the others to know, because they would force him to confess to Paul. 

 

These weeks had been hard for the bassist. Till had gotten himself a girlfriend, after being single for a long time. He was happy for him, of course, but it reminded him of how he was alone and lonely. Of course that wasn't all. A few days ago, Schneider came to him and said that his crush liked him back. Oliver was happy for him as well, on the outside, but on the inside, he was devastated. Why was he alone? Why wasn't he liked? What was he doing wrong so no one would notice him and like him? He had withdrawn in the bathroom, looking at himself. He felt disgusting. He felt too fat, too tall. He wasn't cool enough like the others. He was too different. 

 

From now, he didn't expect anything good to happen to him. 

 

A knock on the door stopped him from his daydreaming. He quickly wiped his tears away and got up. He slowly opened the door to see Paul. He felt himself freeze. 

 

"Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me and Richard on a walk. We were getting bored so we wanted to go out. Wanna join us?" Paul asked with a beaming smile that he always had. Oliver was frozen. His mind was racing. 

 

He doesn't like you, he never will. He'd rather stay with Richard. He must have asked him to go ask you. Paul would never have asked by himself. You're too boring, why would they want you with them? Why would he want you? 

 

"Are you okay?" Paul had a frown in his face. Oliver felt a lump in his throat. He slowly nodded his head. 

 

He doesn't care that you're fine, he was just being nice. You weirdo you look like a psycho by staring at him. 

 

Oliver's head was beginning to ache. He gulped and scratched the back of his head, slowly, "W-Why not?" He croaked out in a slow voice. God why was he so slow at doing everything? He looked up from the floor to see Paul smiling slightly at him. 

 

"Good, let's go then," Paul walked away and Oliver followed him. 

 

The walk was horrible. Oliver was walking behind the two guitarists with a slower pace, buried in his thoughts. 

 

They don't want you here. They want you away, you are not wanted. They all would be better without you. 

 

Oliver sniffled, and prayed that the other two didn't hear him. Tears were pearling in his eyes, he knew he wouldn't have a shoulder to cry on to make him feel better. He'll just have to wait for the storm to pass. It was okay, he was used to it. It was nothing he had never done before. He sniffled again and looked up at the other two. They were chatting happily, laughing along. Oliver felt like the third wheel. That crushed him even more. He just wanted to cry his soul out right now and disappear, but he knew it wasn't possible. He kept walking, staring at the ground. His head was a whole mess. 

 

Paul prefers Richard. He's way cooler than you. A lot of muscles, not too tall, and of course, not a psycho. He's not a freak like you. That's why Paul or anyone can't love you. 

 

Oliver flinched at the thought. He felt disgusting. He needed to go home, no one had to see him. He stopped and watched Paul and Richard walking away. His heart beat faster. 

 

They won't even notice that you left. You're invisible, no one can see you or talk to you. 

 

Oliver sighed and walked home without turning back to the others. He wanted out, he needed out. 

 

When he reached the flat, he hurried into his bedroom and locked himself in. He fell into his bed and curled up on himself, sobbing. He was tired of everything. He was tired of acting fine when he wasn't, he was tired of pretending that he didn't love Paul, he was tired of seeing the others having fun and being happy when he wasn't able to. Tears were streaming down his face, he was devastated. His breakdown lasted maybe one hour, until he heard Paul and Richard come back. They didn't sound worried by Oliver's disappearance. It was like they didn't even notice it. Oliver buried his face in his pillow and cried harder. He wanted to leave, he wanted to kill himself. 

 

He had tried once, well, not really, he just wanted to see if his covers were strong enough for him to hang himself if he wanted to commit suicide. It didn't, so he gave up on the idea. But the thought of killing himself always stayed. He never felt important enough to deserve to stay alive. 

 

To compensate, he had cut himself, once on the arms, but the others discovered it, and once on his legs, where the others discovered it too. It had been a really awkward conversation. He hadn't cut since, and that was crushing him. He wanted to feel relief, but he couldn't.

 

He gripped his pillow tighter and breathed heavily. He had to calm down. He couldn't kill himself now, he had things to achieve first. He wiped his tears away and sat up. He couldn't go out like this, the others would clearly see that he cried. He rubbed his face and tried to not think about his miserable life. 

 

"Lunch is ready boys!" He heard Flake shout. He sighed, not wanting to be social. He didn't want to eat, he would only get fat. But he couldn't skip meals, it would be too obvious. He discreetly hurried to the bathroom to splash water on his face. His eyes weren't puffy anymore and his face turned pale again. When he was satisfied with how he looked, he went back to his bedroom to put on a hoodie. He took the first one he found, a black one. Oliver was never comfortable with showing his skin. He always wore a hoodie or a jacket. It would make him feel safe.

 

He sighed, for the millionth time of the day, and walked into the living room, where everyone was already sitting. He immediately looked down, too ashamed of himself. He couldn't help but notice Paul and Richard hugging each other. He flinched as he sat down next to Flake. Why wasn't he hugged too? He knew he was shy but why would nobody ever hug him? 

 

They hate you. Look, you came here and no one looked at you. You're just here, like an object. Look at how you are useless, Freak. You're just a worthless object, you don't deserve to be with them. 

 

Oliver nodded at his thoughts. He always believed them, he couldn't contradict. He wrapped his arms around himself and a lump formed into his throat. He clearly couldn't eat. He just stared at the pizza that Flake had made himself. He felt so guilty but he knew he couldn't eat a lot, or he'd just throw up. 

 

"Why aren't you eating?" Flake frowned at him and his not even half eaten slice. Oliver nearly escaped a whimper. 

 

I'm sorry I'm sorry I wish I could eat I don't want to get fat it's not against you Flake. 

 

Oliver sniffled quietly as tears were pearling in his eyes, "I-I'm not hungry…" He saw Flake rolling his eyes. 

 

"You could have told me, I wouldn't have gotten you this. You must eat it tonight tho, okay?" The keyboardist sounded annoyed, and it crushed Oliver. The bassist looked down and walked out in his bedroom, waiting for rehearsal. He didn't want to do it, he didn't feel good enough. He would only mess up. He reminded himself of lunch, he was nothing. No one had noticed him except for Flake, who was just annoyed at him. 

 

Am I that annoying? Am I too bothering? Should I really leave?

 

He wanted to, but he couldn't. He let tears roll down his cheeks, not caring about his soaked pillow. He was so tired. He cried quietly, waiting to be called. 

 

"Let's go guys," Paul said. Oliver's heart clenched. God he wanted to tell him. He lazily got up and took his bass. In the car, Ollie was silent, he didn't say anything, he just stared at the window, trying to suppress the tears that were coming. When they reached the studio, a question was asked. 

 

"Guys, as you know, we have to save money for the tour. That's why we'll have to share bedrooms," Till explained as they unpacked their stuff. 

 

Paul immediately paired with Richard, and Till with Flake. That only left Schneider. Oliver held back a sob. 

 

Why can't I be someone's first choice? Why can't I be someone's choice…?

 

He liked Schneider, the guy was cool, it wasn't bothering him to share with him. The problem was that nobody even suggested to stay with Oliver, as if he didn't exist. That crushed his mood even more. He silently agreed to pair with Schneider, not having the choice, and unpacked his bass slowly. He understood what meant a question he had read in a book. As for him, moving and speaking slowly was not wanting to be noticed, as if he didn't belong here. He understood that now, and it was a terrible feeling. 

 

Soon they were playing songs. Oliver was so anxious. He was too scared of messing up that he did mess up sometimes. He flinched each time he did, which soon resulted in a flinching mess. 

 

"Are you okay?" Till asked, his face neutral. Oliver couldn't read him, he didn't seem to care, but he didn't seem to absolutely not give a fuck. 

 

"Maybe we should try other songs to warm up a little," Paul suggested. Oliver turned toward Paul and nodded. He ignored Till's question. He didn't want to lie and say he was okay, but he didn't want to admit that he was broken. He stayed silent. The others nodded along, and then they were playing an easier song. Oliver felt it was bothering Till. Because easier songs weren't helping him for his voice. The bassist felt guilty. 

 

You don't deserve to be here. They don't need you. Rammstein would be better without you. 

 

Oliver turned away from his band mates, not wanting them to see his tears. He had cried so much today, and no one comforted him. He was used to it, he had to be. 

 

Rehearsal ended a couple of hours later, Oliver had waited so much for this. He packed his bass along the others and then they all went back home. 

 

Oliver was laying on the couch, watching TV. 

 

"Aw come on Reesh, pretty please!" Paul whined at the guitar who had to go shopping. 

 

"You know I have to go, we'll practice it after, alright?" Richard said in a cool voice. 

 

"Meh… I'll just go hide and cry, I'll be falling into a deep depression," Oliver couldn't help but roll his eyes as he heard Paul say this. He couldn't understand what he was feeling. It wasn't him who cried nearly everyday because no one loved him, it wasn't him who dreamt for someone to hug him, and it wasn't him who craved to be touched, but was scared at the same time because the rare times he'd been touched were just slaps. Oliver flinched at these memories. 

 

He wasn't physically abused, don't worry about that. He just never was touched, like never. He was touched really rarely, and on these rare times someone touched him, it was only violence. He had gotten used to it even with those few times. So every time someone wanted to touch him, or moved their hands a little bit too quick for his liking, he flinched, scared to get hit. 

 

He flinched when Paul barged into the living room. His heart began to beat like mad as Paul looked at him. The bassist immediately pulled his knees to his chest to let the guitarist sit down. Paul understood it and flopped down on the couch, watching TV. Oliver felt awkward. He wanted to talk to him, but he was too scared. His heart was beating so fast in his chest. He held his knees tightly, he was beginning to shake slightly. 

 

That would be useless, you'd only lose him. He'll never want to talk to you after this. Stay silent, say nothing. 

 

He sighed quietly and turned away from Paul. 

 

"What's wrong with you today? You were so weird at rehearsal," Paul said without looking at him. The bassist froze. Why was he asking this?! 

 

Drop it Freak, he doesn't care. He's not even looking at you. 

 

Oliver felt tears filling his already damp eyes. His breath quickened and he panicked. 

 

You'll only ruin everything, don't tell him! 

 

He didn't have the strength to talk. His voice would only crack or come out broken. He looked away from Paul and closed his eyes. He hated the situation. 

 

"So?" Paul pushed, finally looking at him. 

 

He doesn't care, listen to his tone! He doesn't give a fuck about you, he's just trying to be nice. 

 

'I know I know' Oliver answered his thoughts. 

 

Be brave. 

 

Oliver sighed quietly and wiped his tears away and sat up. 

 

"Nothing," he answered with all his strength and left the living room to go cry in his bedroom. He knew no one would follow him so he let his tears roll down his face as he walked in. Paul didn't even try to follow him. The bassist felt like he was doing the same thing over and over again; crying on his bed. This time tiredness took over him and he managed to fall asleep, where he didn't feel anything anymore. 

 

Reality was hard to accept, but Oliver always had hope. He didn't know why, he just knew it was useless. That was just another casual day in his life. He knew it wouldn't change. He was a prisoner of his thoughts, his mind always controlled him. That was okay, no one had noticed it, and if they did, they wouldn't care. 

 

Maybe one day someone would… Or maybe he will have to lose it and break down in front of everyone so he will finally get help. 

 

Only time will tell…