Nygmobblepot Fluff

Yes, it's love.

The bombs go off. But they've lost their meaning. I can't wash away the feeling of Oswald telling me those things, even if they weren't real. The thing is, he was a hallucination- a projection of my thoughts. Do I think that way? Do I love him?

I'm pulled away by the sounds of screaming from below. I slip out of the building, as if nothing ever happened.

-

I'm at the mansion again. I'm staring at the painting that Oswald got me included into. Spray paint in hand, I lift it up-

"What the hell are you doing?" snaps the hallucination.

I gasp. "Go away, Oswald. This is buisness."

"And by business you mean stubborn arrogance and false convincing, right? Nobody can see you the way that I did. And you know that."

"I'm my own person. And he's dead."

"Is he? Am I really, truly dead?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm a projection of your mind, nothing else. What are you trying to say?" He vanishes.

Could Oswald still be alive?

-

By the next day I've pretty much convinced myself that he's dead. I'm visiting the docks to say goodbye, one last time.

I wear an all-green suit and Oswald's old hat.

"Oswald," I whisper out into the open. "You're dead. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you thought that you had to kill Isabella to get me. The truth is, I've always felt some sort of... connection. And if you're still alive somewhere, I don't think it'd be a good idea to come back. I miss you. I wish I could hold you..."

Moments of silence pass, the only sound coming from the splashing water.

"...Ed?"

I spin around to see Oswald- not a hallucination, just bloody, dirty, sad Oswald. He lays against a post.

"Ed, why-"

"Is that really you?" I interrupt.

He nods. "Do you mean it? You missed me?"

I try to breathe and nod.

"I can't walk much at the moment, but I can assure you that I've learned my lesson. I still love you. And I'll leave you alone."

I pace over to Oswald and lift a hand up to slap him. He preparers himself with a ready face, but I want being myself to it. I don't care about how he's alive. I've missed him.

"Can I hug you?" Oswald asks childishly.

"No," I respond. This provokes a hurt look from the shorter man, but I smile wholeheartedly.

I lean down and plant my lips against his chapped ones.

Yes, this is the start of forgiveness.
Yes, this is love.

*I got super lazy so, yes, this is the second and last part*