call it what you want || nygmobblepot x oc ✅

So It Goes...

POV Five Jackson

Let's make one thing clear- I don't like this Edward guy. I think I've made that pretty obvious. He killed my sister and that alone is enough for me to want to never see him again.

It's bad enough that I can't make him pay because he's Oswald's friend. He goes to visit him in Arkham, for Christ's sake. But he has to stay here? All the time? Where there will probably be some sort of altercation or confrontation if I don't do my best to hold back? This spells disaster.

Ozzie is quite clingy after Butch. I apologize to him and we go upstairs to my room. He's underfoot a lot and when we reach the bed, he curls up as the little spoon when I lie on my side.

"Thanks Ozzie," I say, scratching him behind his ears. We sleep for most of the day, actually, until my phone starts buzzing. It's an unknown number. I pick up anyway, holding my cat close as I sit up on the bed. The setting sun casts an orange light over the room.

"Jackson," I say brusquely.

"Five." it's Oswald. I sit up quickly. "Ed and I will be a little later than expected."

"Alright," I say. "Gotcha, boss. You need backup or something?"

"I don't think so. Campaign party and that. Butch is here."

"Sounds good, boss." I say agreeably. Butch. I don't trust him. He hangs up.

About thirty minutes later, the car pulls up in front of the house, and I leave Ozzie sleeping on the bed to go downstairs and open the door. I move aside to let Oswald and Ed through. They're talking animatedly, and I slip away. I'm tired.

I go back up to my room and take a switchblade from my boot and get the dirt out from under my fingernails. I hum lowly under my breath, a song I used to know well. I'm trying to distract myself from Edward, and pressing the blade into his throat. He's just downstairs. I could do it. But I force myself to keep it together. So it goes. I guess.

The summer is here at last, the sky is overcast, and no one brings a rose for Emily.

After I've finished, I go downstairs to make sure everything's good and locked up for the night.

"You're nobody," he says, eyes bright. I meet his gaze. Oswald is saying something about he's not nobody, Ed, be nice, but I'm not listening. It's not his fault he ignores the goons. If I were Oswald's right hand man I'd ignore me too. Blood roars in my ears. I struggle to stay calm. I'm doing this for Oswald. I won't kill him in this sitting room because Oswald wouldn't want me to.

"I am," I say, but make no move to introduce myself fully. I know he probably knows my name from Oswald but I don't care about pleasantries. Speaking of him, he looks over at both of us, eyes questioning.

"It's fine," I say. "Just tired. I get touchy when I'm tired." That's a lie. The first one I've told him. I don't want to lie- it's just that I don't want to ruin a good thing for him.

"Ah," he says, settling back into his seat. He and Ed talk as I tune it out, leaning against the wall. 

"You should get some sleep," Oswald says to Edward, who nods, getting up and bidding Oswald goodnight. He slips past me, going upstairs. I turn to follow, go to my room, but Oswald grips my upper forearm. He gives me a hard look. Shit. I did not do as good a job as I thought of concealing my feelings regarding his friend. "What's with you?" he says.

"Nothing," I say, looking him dead in the eye. I'm a good liar. His brow furrows with disbelief so obviously I'm not as good as I'd like to believe.

"You're lying. What is your issue with Ed?" 

"It's in the past," I say, and it hurts because it hasn't even been that long since Kristen died. The past, my fucking foot. I can't say anything to his face.

"I don't want trouble."

"You won't get any," I concede, and let him past me. Ed is nowhere to be seen, I'm assuming he's in one of the guest bedrooms upstairs. I don't even care at this point. I go upstairs as well, telling Oswald to go to bed.

Speaking of Oswald, Ozzie, where is my cat? He's not in my room, so I start going around the upstairs to look. About three rooms down, I hear a meow, and I make a beeline in the direction it came from.

Are you fucking kidding me.

My cat is rubbing up against Edward's shins, meowing up at him and demanding attention. He's petting Ozzie's head, looking down and smiling widely at the orange fluffball. He's pretty when he smiles. Stop. Stop immediately. 

I lean against the doorframe until he notices me there. Ozzie is purring, sounding like a old, loud lawn mower. He sees me and meows at me.

"Yeah, I finally found you, Ozzie, ya little traitor," I say, leaning down and delibrately avoiding Ed's eyes. I reach out and scratch Ozzie behind his ears "C'mere, we gotta go to bed." He meows at me, green eyes big and bright. "Mhm," I say. "I love you too." I plant a kiss on his tiny forehead and look over at Ed, who's watching this, face blank. "Sorry," I say, voice sardonic. I know I'm being an asshole. No part of me cares.

"Why are you mad at me?" he asks. He sounds tired.

"What are you talking about?" I say, putting on a fake innocent face. "I'm not mad at all."

I want to spit in his face on my way out.

Two nights later Butch, another one of Oswald's goons (who I've never really liked), betrays us and tries to kill Ed at the Iceberg. Before I can step in though, Oswald breaks a bottle on his head before he strangles Edward to death. That's when I can see the devotion to each other crystal clear. It was always obvious with Oswald, but Edward was always more closed off. If he doesn't love Oswald back, at least he knows that the shorter man values him, and that he has a good friend in him. That's really all we can hope for, right?

"I hope you know, Oswald. I would do anything for you. You can always count on me."

But then Oswald's expression morphs into one of childlike happiness, innocence even, as he hugs Nygma. His hands grasp at the other man's robe like he's scared this too will be ripped from him. It's a needy, yet gentle gesture that has me looking away. I feel like a peeping Tom- in the wrong place at the wrong time. It should hurt. It really should, it should feel like a stab to the heart. But that pain has taken a back burner because Oswald is happy, and that, in this moment, is what really matters. 

Maybe the reason Oswald is so attached to Edward is because... underneath all of the lust for power and greed and psychopathy, is a real hunger for love, for affection, for safety. I truly do wish I was the one to try to give it to him. I don't think I could do it- but I would sure as hell try.