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Admittedly it hadn't been the best reaction, though Oliver Queen wasn't known for having moderate reactions to anything startling. He was better with arms length, anything to keep people back and away from the core of things. Even the ones closest to him, the ones he trusted with his life. Diggle was quite possibly the chief offender in getting under his skin. He was the only one who knew the majority of his secrets and as things got... blurry it had been hard to keep the boundaries he'd set up right from the start.

For one thing, he was always Diggle. Or Dig. For the most part Oliver pretended his first name didn't even exist. It was a line in the sand and as time went and and they became closer it was harder to remember. The problem was that eventually it had slipped out. It didn't matter that they were alone. It didn't matter that it had been something quiet mumbled between kisses in the basement of the club. It certainly didn't matter that the only one who heard Oliver call him John was the man himself. It was the line crossed.

Maybe walking out hadn't been the best plan but it happened and Oliver spent the next 24 hours avoiding his own bodyguard. It was cowardice on his part. The lives of people he... of people he cared about were at risk. A partner, a friend was just as at risk but he had convinced himself it would hurt less if it was kept simple. Clearly his heart hadn't gotten that memo.

He returned to the lair the next evening, his nerve not quite back but he knew it was impossible to evade John- Diggle forever. It didn't make things any less awkward as he cleared his throat.

"...Diggle. We should probably talk."

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John didn’t even acknowledge Oliver with a glance. “You made it clear we don’t, Mr. Queen.”

It was pettiness on his part. He knew Oliver Queen has many flaws, many of which John questioned when he thought he had to, in the hopes of nudging him in a better direction, but John was far from flawless. He could be patient when he wanted to. He could even be understanding when others needed it. This, however, didn’t fall into any of those categories. It was personal, too close to the heart.

And John could compartmentalize. He could. This didn’t have anything to do with the Vigilante, the Hood. This was about Oliver and John. He’d already figured out Oliver was afraid of intimacy, if him bolting after saying John’s name could be seen as a blaring indication. John recognized the flight or fight look in Oliver’s eyes. Not that it mattered, John couldn’t stop Oliver from running. It was probably good he had, sparing John the wasted effort of trying to convince him otherwise. Oliver wasn't the only one who had time to think about their relationship. If he was afraid of saying John’s name, which didn’t seem like a big deal to him, but it wasn't John's issue, was it? He could already see that this — whatever it was — wouldn’t work.

An out.

He was giving Oliver an out.

“And we have work to do,” John continued without lifting his eyes from the blueprints on the table. “The city never sleeps.”

"The city can wait," Oliver said quietly, moving closer but still leaving distance between them. It was frustrating, that still strong urge to run the hell away. Maybe the island would be far enough, though something in him said that it wouldn't be. John had found him there before when he'd run. Another part of him pointed out that if he ran again the man might not come after him a second time. He swallowed, words tight in his throat. It was so much easier to face down a room full of men with guns than to admit to the one person who mattered that he was afraid.

"I messed up. I know I did and I..." He ran a hand over his mouth. "I didn't handle things well. You deserved better than that."

Deserved better than to be one in a long line of lovers that Oliver had lost. Shado, Laurel, Sara, McKenna... The list went on of people he cared for being hurt or damaged by their contact with him. His feelings for John had been unexpected, the relationship they'd developing sneaking up on him. The boundaries between them had been a weak attempt to keep him from harm, as if Oliver could bargain with the universe to ensure his safety.

So damn stupid.

"If you want to get back to work that's fine. Though I think you'd rather have an explanation."

John considered his options. He could be the one pretending nothing significant had happened, for once. They could fall back into the same habits as before, minus the emotional entanglements. They could ever try to be friends again. If they pretended for long enough, it could even happen. John had done it before. He and Lyla could attest to that much, at least.

But, if he were honest, it wasn’t what he wanted to do.

His lips thinned briefly but ultimately, John made a decision. He looked up from the blueprints with an air of expectation, like he’d listen to whatever Oliver had to say, but crossed his arms.

"If you want to give me an explanation, go ahead," John said. "But don’t make this about me, I’m not the one who ran out on you."

Oliver took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts into something slightly more coherent. Funny how he could think more clearly with guns pointed at him than with his closest friend staring at him. That in itself was telling of how deeply John had gotten under his skin.

"I... The people I-" Why was it so hard? "When I care about people deeply, they get hurt. I don't even know why but I convinced myself that if I kept you at a certain distance then you might be spared."

He was a walking bad luck charm, or that's how it felt. Lovers and friends alike ruined in his wake. Oliver looked down, away, and let his fingers graze over the map just so he didn't have to look John in the eye for just a moment. Enough time to make his confession.

"The problem is that the distance I was so convinced we had is a lie. You're closer than anyone else I've opened up to." He looked up again. "It hit me last night and I panicked. I ran because I couldn't handle the idea of having you get killed or ruined because of how I feel."

It honestly wasn’t anything John wasn’t expecting. The explanation made sense, fitting neatly into the lines of how John understood Oliver. It was still bullshit but John could see how Oliver would end up at the conclusion that the universe hated him.

“Is this the point where I try to convince you I know what I’m getting into?” He asked, arms still crossed. “Oliver, I know you have a complicated history. I bet you I don’t even know the half of it, maybe I never will.”

It was one of the few things John accepted about Oliver. He would never really know everything and, honestly, it bothered John sometimes, but he chose to pick his battles when it came to the puzzle that was Oliver Queen.

“There are plenty of reasons why either of us could die today or tomorrow, because of what we do.” Both of them had close calls in the past, way before their relationship had been considered a possibility. “But I’m not convinced that the universe has a personal vendetta against you because you have feelings once in a while. Losing people we care about or seeing them hurt — If you wanted guarantees, I don't have any to give you. But not everything is your fault, no matter how you try to pin it solely on yourself.”

He shrugged, taking a deep breath. “What does that mean for us?”