Love Addict's RPG Ch. 29 (Patreon)

Mia watched Oliver sleep, and yes, she was creepy about it. More than just creepy, she actively sketched him as he slumbered. She hadn't had a chance to draw the real thing up close like this in a very, very long time. He looked peaceful.

Cute, obviously, but that went without saying.

She kept herself busy by studying the contours of his face and how the dull light coming from the single window of his cramped apartment cast shadows against him. Her leadholder scratched against the page, headphones blaring the opening to Grind City Cyber into her ears. Mia was drawing him in a realistic style. No exaggerations, just the way he was. The way she'd always liked him.

She felt she should've been happy with how their conversation turned out, but Mia didn't have it in her. Not while she was still lying to him. Okay, that was too pessimistic. Mia wasn't lying to him, only downplaying the truth. It was fair he didn't recognize her, given how much she'd changed, but it still sucked.

Especially now that he still didn't remember her after she'd told him.

She wondered if she was one of those blocked-off memories he talked about. Mia frowned. Probably was, come to think of it. Poor guy. Mia wished so hard that things had gone differently back then- wished she could've at least thanked him properly or apologized. Instead, she squandered every chance she got, and he was gone a month after incurring Stacy's ire.

Maybe things would've been different if she-

Her lead snapped. Mia frowned harder. Her eyebrow twitched and she took a deep breath while pressing the button to release more lead.

When Mia started working at Payless Foods a year and a half ago, the tiny part of her that still harbored some good old-fashioned Catholic faith thought it might've been an act of divine providence. Here it was, so many years later- a second chance to do right by him. Time hadn't been kind to the guy. Oliver was different than she remembered. Quieter, more reserved... less of a likable class clown, more of a broken-down loner with an emo haircut.

Mia thought she could help him with that.

She gave a few days so that she didn't just spring it on him, but when she finally tried to make her move, she couldn't get so much as a damn word out. Too full of nerves, but that was fine. Not like there was a timer on this. It didn't seem like he had a girlfriend or anything. If he did, you'd think he'd smile more.

All she had to do was speak up. Talk. Open her goddamn mouth.

Fucked that one up, didn't you, Mia?

She sighed, setting aside her drawing to rub her pained wrist. Doctor said that taking frequent breaks was important. Mia didn't doubt that, but she never felt the difference. Least something good was finally happening to her. Might pan out differently after he learned the whole truth, but the less she thought about that, the better.

As Oliver slept, Mia worked through her troubled thoughts by drawing on and off. She filled a page with nothing but different sketches of him, different studies, and different variations of styles, each experiment and each furthering her artistic development. To what end was up in the air.

For now, she simply enjoyed the self-improvement process for what it was and for the distraction it gave her. The only breaks she took were for her wrist and to change out Oliver's ice pack because Mia was nothing if not attentive.

He started stirring about three hours later.

Oliver groaned, stretching out in bed. His foot accidentally nudged Mia's thigh. Unused to there being something at the foot of his bed, this startled him, and he sat up halfway to see what was up, his ice pack falling from his head.

Oh, yeah. That's right, he had a visitor.

"Hey..." Oliver mumbled, catching eyes with Mia.

She peeled off her headphones, giving him a gentle smile while shutting her sketchbook and packing her supplies into her pencil case. "Hey, yourself. Sleep well?"

"Well enough. Forgot you were here for a second."

Mia scooted close enough to press her palm against his forehead. "Fever seems a bit better. You feeling any better?"

"Yeah..." Oliver blushed from how dutiful her attention was. "Getting there."

Mia was pleased to hear that and got off of the bed, telling him they needed to get some fluid in him. She brought him more tea and then made him some soup. At this point, he was starting to feel pretty spoiled. Mia wouldn't hear a word of protest, though. She was hell-bent on taking care of him, and it didn't matter how embarrassed that made Oliver. He couldn't express how lucky he was to have her around to take care of him.

After she took the soup bowl to the kitchen sink and washed it herself, Oliver asked, "So, did you get a lot of drawing done while I was out?"

"Could say so," she said, returning to the bed.

"Do I get to see your sketchbook this time?"

Stone-faced, Mia replied, "You do not."

Oliver couldn't hide his disappointment. "You're really building up the mystery on this. I'm dying to see more."

"Free to come over here and wrestle it away from me if you think you've got the strength," Mia smirked, dangling her messenger bag in the air and challenging him to do his worst.

"Don't tempt me."

"Already am, though."

"Don't tempt me even more than you already are."

"What, like this...?" Mia asked, leaning forward with her bag even further.

Oliver made a lazy pass at Mia's bag, his tired arm barely making it close enough to grasp the strap. She smacked him away like a cat pawing at a mouse, and he gave up without actually trying.

"Foiled again," he sighed.

"Maybe next time, Ollie. Mood's gotta be right." Mia smiled softly, placing her bag on the floor away from his clutches.

"If you say so," Oliver shrugged. It sucked that she wouldn't show him more of her work, but he wasn't going to push her about it. Not when she'd gone out of her way to take such good care of him. "Anyway, that soup helped a lot, so thanks, Mia. I'm pretty sure I can manage on my own for the rest of the day if you have other plans, so-"

"Just so happens I don't," Mia cocked her head. "More importantly, why do you say shit like that?"

"...More specifically?"

"You just gave me an out. It's like you can't wrap your head around the fact that I want to be here. That, or you're being way too considerate. Which is it?"

Oliver wasn't prepared for such an insightful and precise cut into some of his biggest complexes, so he stared at her, feeling called out. "Little bit of both, to be honest. I've got a problem taking help from other people, but yeah, that you want to spend time with me is still pretty unbelievable. I didn't mean to try and kick you out the door."

"Intentionally, you mean."

"...Yeah, not intentionally," he sighed. "I'm trying to get better at this. I really am, so I'm sorry if I still have doubts or if I say stupid crap like that."

Mia closed her eyes, nodding. He was trying, and so was she. Not like the girl who took a year and a half to work up enough courage to seriously chat up her crush only to fail at giving him a Valentine's Day chocolate had any room to judge. She only wanted to help, and by pointing it out to him, Mia figured it might do just that.

"Gonna tell you something, Ollie. Want you to remember it. To keep it in mind before you have any doubts when it comes to me. You ready to hear this?"

He stared at her in silence. Something was in his throat, but it didn't stop him from nodding.

"Nowhere else I'd rather be than by your side," Mia blushed and looked away. She scratched the back of her head, embarrassed. "Know how that sounds, and yeah, might be a little drastic, but something tells me you need to hear it that bluntly if I'm ever gonna get it through your thick fucking skull."

Her words were like an ice pick pounding at the frozen river of his doubts. Mia was so sincere, and what she said delivered the most tremendous blow to his anxieties thus far. Someone wanted to be with him. Mia wanted to be with him. If that didn't boost his confidence, nothing would.

"Now," she crossed her arms, looking back at him. "That in mind, what you wanna do for the rest of the day?"

The confidence boost manifesting, Oliver thoughtlessly blurted, "I want to sit next to you and watch god-awful isekai anime with you."

Mia stared at him, surprised by his forwardness.

"Preferably while holding hands," he added, blushing as he became aware of what he'd said but refusing to back down.

"Hm," Mia looked down, her right hand twirling the crimson-dyed tips of her bangs. "That was a good answer, Ollie. A really good fucking answer."

-- Mia Gained 5 Affection! --

Oliver's impulsive comment paid off better than if he'd discovered an oilfield in his backyard. He got everything he wanted, including the handholding. They fired up his TV and turned on the anime streaming service of his choice in all its shitty glory, saddling up for the ride of their life with the first season of Giga Chad Isekai: Alpha Male in Another World.

A nice discovery Oliver made was that the ever-present BGM in his mind muted itself when he was engaged in media, so even if the show turned out as bad as he expected, at least it gave his poor ears a refrain from the Spanish guitars and the maracas.

Calling Giga Chad Isekai 'bad' was akin to saying that Joseph Stalin wasn't a nice guy. True, just didn't paint the full picture. The series was flawed down to its very premise, and barely a minute of its twelve-episode run time was allowed to pass without something outrageously offensive happening- almost always at the expense of whatever female character was currently on screen.

The protagonist, a man literally named 'Masuta Sekkusu', was the undisputed King of Kabukichō- the most famous red-light district in all of Japan- and was regarded the world over as the greatest pickup artist to ever live. This guy had so much game that he literally ran out of beautiful women to have sex with and became disillusioned with life, ultimately taking his own. Because of his unparalleled charisma and unrelenting libido, the goddess of another world offered him the opportunity to be reborn in a generic fantasy world where men were few and far between and 'radical' feminism was the norm.

His mission? Allegedly, it was to repopulate, but the plot focused more on Sekkusu becoming a slave master and eventual warlord who conquered territories to 'liberate' them. The word 'liberate' doing a lot of heavy lifting, there.

It was awful. Trash. The lowest of the low, and if it had come out three years ago, it probably would've been Oliver's favorite anime ever.

That uncomfortable truth hurt, but he was surprised he could enjoy such trashy media without stirring up old wounds. It didn't make him want to go and re-download King Among Beasts - The Forceful Tribal Conqueror's Harem, or anything like that, but still.

One thing Oliver wished he knew ahead of time was how many sex scenes there were because, Lord Almighty, there were many. It was an uphill battle to keep calm, as despite how questionable the content was, these scenes were very well animated. He was watching literal borderline hentai while holding the hand of his almost-girlfriend.

Mia made lewd jokes about the content as it unfolded, but Oliver could barely look at her during such scenes. He did notice that she held his hand tighter whenever there was action, though. Made sense. Sekkusu was definitely her type- wild hair, sharp teeth, evil eyes...

He wasn't jealous, but Oliver did feel a little annoyed that he was still sick. If he wasn't, then maybe he would've had some courage left to spare after asking her to hold hands, and who knows where that courage could've gotten him.

He was only five points away from Mia's first heart event. So close. So very, very close.

They finished episode twelve about four hours later. Oliver's fever had almost entirely cleared up by then, and now the only thing wrong with him was the persistent muscle ache. They had a lot to say about the experience they'd just shared.

"Wow," Oliver started.

"Wow, indeed."

"I thought there would've been, like, one named female character he didn't sexually assault, but-"

"Awful naive of you, underestimating the basement-dwelling light novelist who wrote this."

"Do you think this got him laid?"

Mia laughed. "What?"

"Do you think that the author goes to Comiket or some shit and hits on cosplayers of his series going, like, hey, what's up girl? I wrote that. Yeah, the series trying to set women's rights back by about three hundred years? All me, baby."

"Series sold like hotcakes laced with meth and also crack. I'd be surprised if he didn't use some of that wealth to visit a soapland or two, but maybe he's saving that for when the series is over? Needs that virginity in tip-top shape if he's gonna keep channeling the vast amount of incel energy necessary to keep writing this shit."

"You call it shit, but you seemed pretty into it," Oliver teased. "Gonna order a Sekkusu pin for your collection?"

"Unironically, yes."

"Unironically?" He stared in amazement, half exaggerated, half not.

"Not many shows out there that scratch that specific itch," she shrugged. "Whole reason this was on my radar was because it's surprisingly popular with certain girls."

"Seriously?" Oliver puzzled over that in his mind. "What kind of girls?"

"Ones who share my tastes," Mia looked at him pointedly, adjusting her glasses.

"...You're not going to elaborate on that, are you?"

"Don't think I need to, but yes, I will. Eventually. Rather leave it to your imagination for now. Let it faster, drive you crazy wondering about what kind of sick and twisted shit I'm into." She said, her finger digging into the choker she always wore to drive home a point.

Oliver gulped and looked away from the devious smile she was giving him. It was too much. Mia must've understood that, though, as she grabbed his right hand with her left and squeezed it tight, leaning her weight on his shoulder.

"Not to imply I don't like wholesome, handhold-y, vanilla shit by any means. Variety is the spice of life."

He smiled and squeezed it back. "Plenty more spice where that came from."

"Might take you up on that, nights still young. Know some other series where-" Mia's phone started buzzing in her pocket, cutting her off. She yanked it out and checked the recent message, her mood changing instantly. She closed her eyes, groaned, and slammed her head backward into the cheap wall so hard that Oliver was afraid she'd break right through it.

"¿Qué? ¿Estás bromeando? Ese estúpido cabeza de chorlito de mi hermano..."

"Whoa, there. Is everything okay? I know I heard 'estúpido' in there, and I'm pretty sure 'hermano' is brother, right?"

"Sí, er, yeah. Sorry, I default more toward Spanish when family is involved..." Mia sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "My brothers just got home from a business trip to Mexico yesterday, and fucking Julio already went and went and got himself into an accident. Nearly cut halfway through his pinky."

"Jesus Christ, that, uh... kinda sounds like something you should be a LOT more concerned about..."

"Get numb to it when this is more or less a weekly thing," Mia grumbled, forcing herself to sit upright again. She looked anything but enthused.

"...Your brothers almost sever their pinkies every week?"

"Not usually that extreme, but they're always cutting themselves up one way or another. Occupational hazard."

"What the fuck do they do for a living...?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," Mia droned on, her typical deadpan sarcasm blunted by annoyance. "Nah. They're in the family business, always working with sharp tools. You know. Carpentry."

"Uh-huh..." Oliver didn't want to jump to any conclusions. Just because her brothers were on a business trip to Mexico and they worked with sharp tools a lot didn't mean that 'carpentry' was a euphemism for a different sort of 'family business'... but what if it was?

...No, that'd be stupid of him to assume.

Stupid and insanely racist. Then again, this was the guy whose unconscious mind dreamed up a stereotypical Mexican folk song to serve as Mia's BGM. The ship might've sailed on the whole racist thing.

"Sorry to say it, but I'm going to have to call it a night and head to the hospital..." Mia pulled herself out of bed and slung her bag over her shoulders, still thoroughly bummed.

"Yeah, no worries. Obviously, you should be there for your brother right now."

"Meh," she shrugged, grabbing her bike helmet off the coffee table and fastening it to her chin. "Would rather stay here and keep hanging, but family is family. Speaking of, usually spend Sundays with them. Figured you should know ahead of time since it seems like we'll be doing this more often."

"Good to know. Do you want me to give you a ride? I'm feeling pretty good now, so-" Oliver tried sitting up, but she shot him a look that told him not to bother. "Okay, okay. I get the message." He said, raising his hands in defeat.

"You better," Mia smirked out of slight satisfaction. "One last thing before I go, how's Monday sound?"

"For?"

"That talk we need to have," she gazed at him from the doorway, her eyes bright and full of expectation. "About us."

"Oh," Oliver paused. His whole plan was to have this mystical talk after he'd gone through Mia's first heart event, but frankly, he didn't care about that anymore. The sooner, the better. "Yeah. Monday sounds great."

"...Dope. Text you later, Ollie."

And with that, Mia left him to his lonesome self again, the BGM shifting back into the repetitive theme of his apartment. A new pop-up window appeared after departure.

--- Milestone Achieved! Nursed by Mia 10LP ---

"Huh. Didn't expect that to be a milestone." Oliver thought aloud.

A familiar voice echoed over from his open window. "[Milestones] cover a wide [Variety of Situations], rewarding you for experimentation and MIXING it UP!" Bradley reentered the building by seemingly jumping his way in Spider-Man style, freaking Oliver out in the process.

"What the fuck, dude?" Oliver asked between panicked gasps. "Were you clinging to the windowsill these last seven hours, or what? How did you even..." realizing the futility, he cradled his forehead in his palm and slumped over in his bed. "Nevermind. I don't even want to know."

"Should I add [Window Reentry] to the growing LIST of things you would PREFER I not do?"

"Yes, and make sure it's pretty damn close to the top," he sighed. "Good timing as always, though. Let's have a quick chat about new developments before we figure out what I'm gonna do now that I'm at 50LP."

They sat at the coffee table, and Oliver caught Bradley up on how things went that day. It was good news on every front, and Bradley showcased his blind support as always. There was something Oliver wanted to ask him once they were done. Something that'd been at the back of his mind ever since she told him a couple of hours ago.

"Did you know that I went to high school with Mia? I mean, you said you came from my brain, so I was wondering if you recognized her from whatever shared memories we have..."

Bradley's mechanical smile twitched, shrinking minutely. "If YOU don't have a good [Recollection] of [Past Events], then neither DO I! I only know [Mia Rosas] as your [Tutorial Girl and Coworker], nothing MORE."

"Hm," Oliver leaned against the table and propped his chin up, frustrated. "Just checking. The whole thing didn't sit right with me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than she was letting on. I mean, she was really nervous about telling me. Not really sure why she built it up to be such a big thing when it's not."

"Have you considered..." Bradley began to speak but froze mid-sentence. He was unmoving, more lifeless than usual. Pensive, almost.

"Bradley?"

Whatever force animated the thoughtform kicked back into gear, knocking him out of his stupor. Still wasn't looking as chipper as he usually did, though. "My [Apologies], Oliver, [Old Buddy, Old Pal]. It took me a MOMENT to [Plot the Course] of my [Pending Advice]! Personally, I think it's BEST to let [Sleeping Dogs Lie] until they [Wake Naturally]. If there IS more to [Mia's Story], you'll know when you KNOW."

"You're right," Oliver admitted. "It bugs me, but I can't lose sleep over it like I did last night. I'm gonna have to try and be better from here on out."

"Should YOU find yourself feeling [Restless] and on THE verge of [Compulsive Behavior], please don't hesitate TO [Text Your Best Pal]!" The luster of Bradley's smile returned as he gave his friend a thumbs up. "I am ALWAYS available to engage in [Male Bonding Activities] such as [Knocking Back Cold Ones] and watching FILMS featuring [Topless and Well-Oiled Men with Guns] until your MIND is eased."

It couldn't have been worded any stranger, but like everything else Bradley said, the sentiment behind the strangeness was pure enough to comfort Oliver. Just another reminder that he could truly rely on the uncanny friend sitting his opposite. "I'll take you up on that if I have to," Oliver said, meaning it. "Probably worth getting that one skill, too. Not just to stop me from overworking myself if I end up like that again, but to make strength training a little easier on me in general."

"I think it's WORTH the investment, as well, but to play [Devil's Advocate], you're CERTAIN you want [Physical Conditioning Lv. 1] over [Selective Hearing]?"

"Yeah..." Oliver frowned. "Even if I pace my training better and make sure I don't get compulsive with it, I'd feel a lot safer knowing I have a built-in safety net. Stopping myself from potentially worrying Mia is a lot more important than turning off the crappy earworms in my brain... and I know I have this compulsion to make sure that people don't worry about me, but... it's different with her. That phone call this morning was like a punch to the gut, and I don't ever want to accidentally put Mia through that again. Ever."

Bradley stared into his eyes for a few seconds, measuring his conviction. He approved, smiling wider.

"You've thought THIS through, which is ALL I wanted to ensure!" Bradley said proudly. "Now, then. Let's HAVE ourselves a [Gander] at that [Tier 1] skill, SHALL we?"

Oliver smiled back, then rifled through his menus until finding Physical Conditioning Lv. 1. He clicked on it, bringing up the description to make sure it was what he wanted.

--- Physical Conditioning Lv. 1

The overall toughness of your muscles becomes decently greater than that of your average man. This grants you an increased resistance to damage caused by physical impact, improves your general stamina efficiency, and helps to mitigate exhaustion.

+1 to strength.

---

Yup, that looked exactly what the doctor ordered. Oliver bought his fourth skill.

---

Purchased Physical Conditioning Lv. 1

Gained 1 Strength

---

It took half his LP, but Oliver already had the feeling this was the right call. Something about him felt overall sturdier. Like he had a better core, even if he didn't have the physique to reflect it just yet. His strength was now at two, as well, allowing him to faintly sense a growing well of power that wasn't there before.

"That definitely did something, but I guess I need to let the skill do its thing and patch my arms up before I notice a bigger difference."

"You'll probably KNOW come morning," Bradley said. "Speaking OF, what's the [Plan], my [Man]?"

"Gonna do what I originally planned for today- spark training. Mia is going to be busy, anyway, so..."

"Admirable, however, you just raised a stat through purchasing a [Tier 1 Skill]. Makes me WONDER whether doing it THE [Hard Way] is [Worth the Hassle] compared to grinding LP! Perhaps you might consider aiming for some [Low Hanging Fruit] dangling from the branches of [Stacy Lynn] and [Tessa Robinson]?"

Oliver wanted to counter that by stating he wasn't interested, but after getting his first free stat bonus, he couldn't deny the appeal. Not like it changed anything. He still had feelings for Mia, who was busy tomorrow, and the only other heroines that Oliver had access to were more trouble than they were worth. The biggest way to boost his LP so far was discovering new heroines, but spending an entire day walking around Vista Venus in the hopes of running into a compatible girl seemed like a waste of time.

Better to just stick to his plan.

"Even if I wanted to shoot for some of Stacy and Tessa's basic milestones that wouldn't land me in hot water with Mia, I can't count on low-tier skills as my main way of boosting stats. Spending everything I get on stat boosting means I won't ever have anything left for the fun stuff in tiers two and three."

"But the [Temptation] is [Growing], isn't IT...?"

Oliver looked Bradley straight in the eyes. "I might be compulsive, but I'm not compulsive enough to fuck up the only good thing I've got going for me. I want to be with Mia."

Bradley seemed to have much more to say on the subject, but he decided to keep it brief. He shot Oliver some conciliatory finger guns, saying, "As ALWAYS, I [Support Your Decision]! I just THINK you should [Keep in Mind] that asking for Stacy's [Cellular Telephone Number], for instance, WOULD be [Harmless Enough] and give YOU a nice, fat [10LP] that could BE used to FURTHER your chances with [Tutorial Girl Mia Rosas]. That's all."

"Fair enough," Oliver conceded. "Maybe I'll go for it if something like that comes up naturally, but I'm not holding out hope. In the meantime, I think I'm going to draw this strategy meeting to a close."

"Much was ACCOMPLISHED today, Oliver, my [Friend]! Nice WORK on [All Accounts]! I'll KEEP to myself tomorrow SO that you can focus ON your [Drawing Practice], and I assume you'll be WANTING to [Kickback] for the rest of tonight, so I'll BE on my-"

"Hey, hold on a second," Oliver stopped him. "You were a big help this morning, and even though I don't drink all that much, I noticed that Free Ride stuffed a six-pack in my fridge..."

Bradley's glossy face brightened, the corners of his mouth raising his artificial smile into an even creepier one. Hopes and dreams sparkled in his lifeless eyes.

Oh, God. He was making a thing of it...

Ah, whatever. Oliver still liked the guy and wanted to make sure he showed it.

"...What would you say to hanging out for a bit and cracking open a few cold ones?"

"What would I SAY?" Bradley laughed, straightening his bowtie. "I would SAY let the [Male Bonding Activities] commence!"