There was the same curiosity in his mind; what had gone wrong, where had their lives gone onto different paths…some things were better left unanswered, but finding the truth, especially now, was a pressing need for Oliver that had become difficult to ignore. It could, however, wait. Because in that moment there was nothing more important than Helena Bertinelli; it was a strange sensation, feeling at peace, tranquil, and still his heart pounded within his chest, making a valiant attempt to burst from his ribcage. The truth was simple; she made him feel alive, and there was no greater gift that could be given than that. In his mind, it was necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it was to live…on the island, there had been times when he wanted nothing more than death. Now, with her, he understood on such an intricate level of what living truly meant.
Pulling away, albeit briefly, from the kiss required a small feat of willpower; his lips tingled with sensation, her taste still fresh, intoxicating in its own right. A small breath was taken, his head already spinning, a kind of euphoria that was only to be found in her kiss. His hand hadn’t moved, though. Fingers running through her dark hair; she was more vulnerable in that moment than she ever was when they were out on the streets of Starling City, crossing names from the list. It was frightening, wasn’t it? They had become something more than two lonely souls looking for a connection; the connection had been found, and it had…grown exponentially. Somewhere along the way Oliver had stopped merely wanting someone to fully share his life with, and fallen in love with the woman who had all but shunned love after her heart had been so thoroughly broken.
“I told you before, sometimes I missed the feeling. The freedom,” which was the truth. As much as he had always wanted to get back home, the driving force that had sustained him, there were things about the island that he missed. “Right here, right now, it’s back. We’re so far from Starling City,” turning his head, he glanced out towards the lights that represented the party they had left, then towards the purple starlit canopy above their heads. “Far from home. It’s just the two of us. I’m not…the son of a rich family, or a vigilante. I’m me.” It didn’t take all of his problems away; nor did it make Oliver forget the things that he had gone through, but it did somehow make them a little smaller, at least in a way. He didn’t want Helena to be afraid to live; or for things to always feel so heavy. “I want to show you what that was like.”
Reluctantly letting go of her hand, Oliver loosened the tie before ultimately pulling it off, and started working on the buttons of his shirt. It was one of the advantages to Hawaii; even though the sun had gone down, the water still wasn’t freezing, and that was something that he planned on testing out for himself. The shirt fell from his shoulders, landing quietly on the sun, his scars visible in the light of the moon. He didn’t care; each one of them was a reminder of the crucible he had gone through; something he wouldn’t have hid…and she had seen them before. “Come on,” his voice was playful as he pulled off his belt, giving Helena an irresistible smile.