untitled because im unoriginal

edge: the rough draft

When Oliver woke up that morning, the other side of the bed was empty. This was no surprise.

Slade was dedicated to his job. So much so that it, albiet rarely, caused him to be away from home for months on end. It didn't bother Oliver that he was away so often, but what he was away doing.

His lover was a trained assassin. 

When Slade got a job, he often left a note with an explanation. But Oliver never knew who the victim was going to be.

This time though, there was no explanation that he could see. Just dresser drawers left open and emptied, pictures taken off the wall. And somehow, Oliver knew Slade wouldn't be coming back. 

But why?

He slowly rose off the bed, throwing off the dark green sheet, walking into the living room. Still no sign of Slade. Worry began to set in, and he traveled all over the house, searching for his boyfriend, to no avail. 

Oliver entered the living room once again, sighing. 

So, he would go looking for Slade instead.

Oliver quickly dressed and left the house, climbing into his car and drove into the city, trying to keep an eye out for his 6'4 boyfriend. Really, he wasn't easy to miss. You'd spot anyone that tall in a crowd. So why couldn't he spot Slade?