3A/N: I am really digging the Oscar/Angela/Robert scenario these days. This is a bit of a follow up to "The Ice Kept Getting Thinner," though it works equally well as a standalone story.
Of The Bottom of a Well
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold. - "The Second Coming," William Butler Yeats
Help me see myself
Cause I can no longer tell
Looking out from the inside
Of the bottom of a well
- "The End," Pearl Jam
It felt cliché and almost trite now, but Oscar had believed he'd found love with Robert. True, deep love and not something from one of the ditzy romantic comedies that Kelly would squeal over. It was something Oscar hadn't experienced since Gil, and now in retrospective he felt even that was questionable.
With Robert, it had been so exhilarating and special, and Oscar had fallen hard. Plain and simple, Robert had made him happy. He made him forget that he was an intelligent man stuck in a dead end job, where he'd been for over a decade, stuck crunching numbers. He forgot that one desk mate's competence was incredibly questionable and the other desk mate and the other desk mate was cold and judgmental.
There was of course the fact that the man he loved was married to Angela, but he tried his best to not think about it. To overlook it. Whenever it slipped into his mind, he justified his actions. He deserved Robert. Angela didn't. Angela was so disconnected from her husband she didn't even know he was gay. Robert obviously needed companionship that Angela couldn't provide. He deserved more than her, and maybe Angela had just got what had been long coming. The mantra was a song on repeat inside of his head.
He wasn't in the wrong; he was justified. Although it worked most of the time, he wanted to believe it more than he actually did.
He almost broke down when Phillip was born. There was a kid involved now, and that just made the consequences more real and his justifications even more dubious. He had started to tell Robert that he wasn't sure if they could continue, but Robert hadn't let Oscar finish the statement. I need you now, more than ever. I love you, Oscar, and I need you to lean on.
How could Oscar resist that? How could he leave him, leave that face that was reaching out to him so desperately, trying not to drown in the new developments of his façade of a life?
Of course he stayed. Of course he said yes. He wasn't particularly inclined toward leaving the ones he loved during difficult times, he thought, his original reason for bringing up the conversation completely out of mind.
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They had remained in their happy, somewhat guilt free bubble of a relationship – always a relationship, never an affair, Robert had whispered against Oscar's skin one night – for some time after that.
And then Angela figured it out, figured it all out. It had happened slowly and all at once, with Oscar unsuccessfully trying to delude her on the way. And then every last bit of it was exposed, cast under a harsh and piercing light, and Oscar could hardly breathe.
The enormous weight of it all pushed against him, pushed against his mind and heart, and he was pretty sure this was akin to drowning.
He thought about what he and Robert had done, about their affair, and he didn't feel justified or in love anymore. Robert had tried to be casual and calm about the whole thing and make apologies to Angela while making it known to Oscar that he still had eyes for him, but Oscar was done. He no longer felt the euphoria of love or justification in what they had done.
He just felt sick.
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Oddly enough, after he had ended it with Robert, Oscar ended up thinking about Michael. Michael had been something else altogether, and Oscar could name a thousand less than ideal things about the man if he set his mind to it, but the thing about Michael that had drawn Oscar's mind on that night was his strong sense of friendship. Contrary to what the mug proclaimed, Michael hadn't always been the world's best boss, nor had he been the most competent or understanding friend, either, but he had always tried. He had made a good faith effort to be there for Oscar and the rest of the office in his own Michael Scott-esque way.
Oscar wondered what Michael would think, how he would react to him sleeping with Angela's husband. He might have giggled in years past, but he had matured a bit when Holly came along. Michael's hypothetical response was vivid in Oscar's mind: shock, a look that clearly said I never thought you of all people would do something like this, even to Angela.
Oscar can't help but feel that his former boss would be profoundly disappointed in him, and not just for the blatantly obvious – for his already-grown-sparse friendship with Kevin too.
He used to be an ethical man, a good friend, and now the same could hardly be said of him.
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After the first few conversations with Robert, Oscar quit answering the phone. There was nothing else to say. They were done. Oscar was done sacrificing his morality, and on a more physical level, he wasn't going to risk having his kneecaps shattered by one of Dwight's friends again.
So this was goodbye sounded like – the ringing of a phone, a missed call notification.
Oscar thought it would hurt more than it did, but when he thought about Robert, he was mostly angry. Angry at Robert for being manipulative and self-centered, and angry at himself for falling for it all. Oscar had always prided himself on being practical, but his head had been far too high up in the clouds.
He was going to reclaim himself, though. Be practical once again, have a real conversation with Kevin. He doubted Angela would speak to him – she hadn't much, yet – but maybe someday he would be able to make amends with her.
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He arrived at work in the morning. It had been eighteen days since Angela had discovered his and Robert's affair, nineteen since he had broken up with Robert. He sat down at his desk, getting ready to put together some expense reports.
"Hey Oscar," Kevin greeted him, taking his seat.
"Morning, Kev. How's it going?"
Kevin gave him a thumbs up sign, "I stopped at that new place and had the best bagel ever. Anyway, you know what I was thinking?"
Kevin continued before Oscar could respond, "We should hit Poor Richards sometime this week. That used to be the spot, and man, it has been forever."
Oscar smiled. It was like reinventing yourself to be exactly what you'd been before, except a bit more wiser, a bit more appreciative of everything you had.
"Yeah, Kev," he said, "I think that's something we definitely need to do."
A/N: Reviews are like fun nights at Poor Richards - as in ones that don't involve Roy and Kenny starting bar fights. OH THE MEMORIES. Can you guys believe that was five years ago?