call it what you want || nygmobblepot x oc ✅

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

POV Five Jackson

The next day, Oswald tells us we're invited to a fancy sort of gala somewhere later that week. I wasn't really paying attention. But while he and Edward hash out the details, I lean back and think of what on earth do you wear to a gala?

Just as I'm trying to figure out if I could get away with just pulling the bodyguard card and ditching fancy clothes, Oswald says my name and I perk back up.

"Yeah? What's up?"

"Do you know your sizes? We're going to have to get you a suit." Oswald says. His eyes feel like lasers boring into my skin.

"Aw, really? I thought I could skate by just being the brawn," I groan, tipping my head back against the headrest of the chair.

"Nope," Edward says, looking at me cheerfully. He's in a good mood. Suspicious.

"Alright," I say melodramatically and rattle off my sizes as I remember them. Oswald makes notes and goes into the other room to call a tailor or something. I wasn't paying much attention.

"Does he know?" Edward asks suddenly.

"Know what?" I turn my head to look at him.

"That you like him." I startle, hard. Was it this obvious? 

"I don't," I deny, and go back to fucking around with my pocketknife. 

"Yes, you do," he insists. "I can see it."

"He's my best friend. I wish I could have been his." I say. "That's all it is." 

"But you don't want him like a best friend. I know how that feels," he says quietly, and I look at him with disbelief.

"Edward. Do you... you too?" I whisper.

"I don't know!" He says, throwing up his hands. "There's my- maybe it's mine- his- thing for you, and honestly I can see where it's coming from-" he takes a breath as my head spins, what is he-? "And then Oswald and Isabella... I don't even know how to deal with any of this."

"Do you love Isabella?" I ask.

"I think so," he says quietly.

"Oswald?"

"I don't know."

I swallow hard. "Me?" My fingers are digging into the fabric of the armrest.

"I don't know."

I nod. So this got me next to nothing, but at least I'm more clear on where we all stand. Jesus. This love triangle is going to leave us all in a wreck, tangled.

Oswald walks in again and I slump back into the chair.

"So," he says, fidgeting with his fingers. "All we have to do is pick your suit up in about an hour."

"Thanks," I say, smiling up at him. And it's actually sincere. He's done so much for me, and he absolutely didn't have to.

"No problem," he says, looking away. Edward squirms from the awkwardness of the moment. He stands, forcing a smile.

"So when's this thing again?" he asks.

Oswald says, "8 pm, tomorrow." It's about 3 in the afternoon right now, and I stand up, stretching.

"Unless you guys are planning on going anywhere, I'll be off," I say with mock cheerfulness. I've just got to get out of this house.

It has come to a head- not between any of us, but between me and my thoughts. Part of me wants to leave the house and go out and get trashed with people I've never met and will never see again, and that part might just win out. So I drop them off, act like I'm going to bed and change into a tight black t-shirt, my leather jacket and my black jeans (which I know for a fact make my ass look amazeballs). It's a little early to be heading to a club, so I mix and mill around in Gotham.