E.N
———
Shame is a normal emotion. People feel shame for a varied range of reasons, from small matters like their hair or their shoes, to big matters like why they planned to kill someone. The face of shame, although, looks the same on every body it encompasses.
He looks ashamed. His eyes have fallen to his feet and his shoulders have collapsed.
"I went to see Scarecrow. He, uh, he said he'd help me with something if I killed you." The answer to that query raises even more curiosity from Oswald. His eyebrows furrow and his mouth curls downward.
"Why does he want me killed? What did you want from Scarecrow?"
He looks back up at Oswald. Susceptibility creeps back onto his face slowly but surely, sneaking over the creases in his brow.
"I'm not sure why Scarecrow wants you dead. He's insane- he probably just wants to cause chaos for chaos sake. Or maybe he's working with Jeremiah, which probably explains why you were told you would meet Jeremiah here and I was told where you'd be and at what time." He is rambling- a trait generally seen by his other self. His weaker self. His self that only shows when he is subject to strong feelings for someone. His weaker self that he wishes he could repress around everyone but Oswald.
"And what did you want from Scarecrow?" He breathes in deep through his nose and out slowly through his mouth. A technique to calm himself he uses regularly. A technique he learnt from Oswald.
"He was going to make a serum to take away certain memories. Certain memories about a certain someone."
Oswald looks confused before the penny drops. At first, he looks like he might explode. His face goes bright red and rosy pink. But after a few moments, he returns to his pale white self.
"You didn't want to remember being in love with me?"
"I didn't want to remember losing you. So i wanted it all gone."
O.C
———
It's a weird feeling to both love and hate something at once. Like fighting with your mum, or eating a really nice cake with too-sweet icing. Love and hate don't fall too far from the same tree, and that's why they're such profound feelings. People feel them so passionately that it burns them up and possess their body in a blaze of glory. Some people are run by their love and/or hate, and others live beside it.
He has never been one or the other.
He places both of hands on either side of Edwards pink cheeks. He sits both hands with his thumb resting on the top of Ed's cheekbones and his fingertips meeting the hairline on Ed's neck.
Ed is someone he loves and hates. When they fight they fight passionately, so when they love they love purely and vehemently.
"Ed, you're a fool. A damn fool. If he took away those memories, you would have forgotten the most pivotal point in our partnership."
"A what was that?" Ed asks innocently, and Oswald replies with a slow but demanding kiss.
For five sweet moments, the world stops. Finally. For five sweet moments, everything stays right where they are left. He can relax. He can breathe.
Ed's lips are soft and sweet- a true contradiction to the persona he insists on embodying. But they are exactly as he expects them to be; a superfluous flavour of love and lust that he has the privilege to enjoy for just five sweet fucking moments.
He pulls away first with a smile and an exasperated laugh. Ed's reaction is a reflection of the same. They are a mirror of joy after months of resting deception and unfaithfulness.
"You would have forgotten about your daydream of me singing Amy Winehouse to you." He is haughty with his answer. Ed's eyes widen and his mouth falls agape.
"How-how did you-?"
"I have my ways."
Regret. Responsibility. Disarray.
Finally, he is not alone.
