The Cake.

Isabella was gone and nothing could stop The Penguin from taking what was rightfully his – Ed. Oswald began to tip tap away at the table with his hands before an idea sparked within his sinful mind. A cake! Of course. Ed would never turn down the opportunity to watch the master of baking work his magic in the kitchen.
The tired, exhausted Mayor of Gotham got to his feet, grabbing his cane for support, and headed to Eds room. With his usual manner of walking, steps and then a little hobble slid, Oswald had just got outside Eds office. “Ed!” He cried out. He stepped into the very.. personalised office. Oswald smiled brightly and stood straight up – even if it pained him.

“We are going to bake a cake together!” He demanded, cheeks a gentle red. Ed was puzzled and watched the smaller man for a few moments before forming his own smile. “Sure.” He said more bluntly than normal.

“Sure? That’s it? No riddles, questions, or inquiries?” He asked. Worry panged at his heart. He’d noticed how… sadder Ed had been since Gabe, his new right hand man, had taken care of the issue known as ‘Isabella’. Or Bitch, as Oswald enjoyed to call her. “No. Something like this might take my mind off of her, actually.” Oswald noticed his smile looked more forced than his normal teethy grin. Oswald nodded, asking no more questions.

And so, the two made their way down the hall and into the rather large kitchen. The manors cookery was larger than the more regular households kitchen; however it was made for the design purpose of having more than two simple people baking within it. It was made for at least a staff of 30 cooks, busboys and other rankings. Oswald’s mind began to trail back to what his father had said about how he met his mother working here.. Ed didn’t know that. And he’d rather keep it that way.

His long, bony fingers trail along the surface of the open spaces to use for their cooking. His mind wondered, begin to picture his younger mother working here. A smile on her lips and her long messy hair up within a bun. Even begin to see a young version of Elijah, his father, peering around the kitchens door and watching Gertrud with a cheeky little grin.

She stood here. Her hands touched this..
Probably.

A chuckle escaped his lips before he turned back to Ed who was still looking glum but a tad more happy than his usual self. I will make you happy again, Ed. Even if it kills me.. His heart pained even more, aching over and over with each sad movement Ed made. His eyes blinked and kept away one or two tears who’d threaten to emerged.

They gathered everything needed; Flower, sugar, eggs, bowls, utensils and baking powder. This had taken Eds mind off of the issue at hand but not bought his happiness up. He was empty, at least. No happiness yet no sadness either.  But hopefully this would soon change.

Ed reached for the spoon and then so did Oswald. They both touched hands. Only for a brief moment but not only did their hands touch but so did their hearts. Oswald couldn’t help but grin and stare into Eds eyes. Never wanting the moment to end but Edward did. He yanked his hand away and the spoon with it. Oswald brushed it off as Ed not being in the mood, even though it felt like one of his own knives had stabbed him in the centre of his little, bruised heart.

Oswald moved closer to Ed. His own hand wrapped around a different spoon and mixing up the batter. His heart pounded in rhyme with the mixing. His throat was dry and his eyes sore as he stared within the middle of his bowl.

"you are standing too close." Nygma said rather coldly.

Oswalds legs gave way at the words he'd used himself when they met. Then Oswald accidentally tripped over his own feet in slight shock and went crashing into the side with a rather loud squeal. normally Ed would have jumped to his recusce but it took the intelligent man a few moments before he even bothered to help the injured fellow up.

Mr Cobblepots sides would bruise - he groaned. Sharp pains within his side made him keep back the urge to cry.

"Get off me."

you are NOT the real Edward Nygma I know!

he felt the need to scream these words out. write them everywhere. Edward had changed and not for the better. This hurt Oswald more than anything in the world. even more than the treatment he'd endured during his time at Arkham.

Edward did nothing but simply move aside and leave. Then it hit Oswald.

He didn't want to be here.
He never had.

That's why he didn't ask anything before. Because he wanted this over with and out the way. Oswald had stumbled, back to wall - He slowly began to slide down the cold wall. Oswald sat on the floor, his knees to his chest. This caused him more pain than the crash had simply due to the messed up knee of his but it didn't matter.

His heart was hurt. It wouldn't heal. much like his limp, it would define who he was. A now truly heartless murderer.