Oswald had yet to cry since the death of his beloved mother, but seeing the love of his life with someone else filled him with hatred, moodiness and distress, all coexistent in one moment. If only he was a lad quicker. He was going to confess, he was going to reveal his feelings to Edward, but it was too late now.
He remembered how tensed and panicked he was, expecting him to arrive on the dot, while he dumped him for a girl that he had just met, who resembled his dead ex.
He assumed he had hinted his feelings, powerful and hard as nails, but Edward wasn't cognizant of them yet. He started questioning it himself, would he ever expose his emotions, or keep them buried inside his mind and chest, where no one would ever be able to discover them?
He was a sad wreck, at end of his rope, wishing he had said something sooner, wishing he had been more courageous, but instead he had been a gutless, chicken-hearted mortal.
His kingdom was lapsing, the palace he built, with such volition and fatigue, all demolished in an instant.
Oswald wondered what his mother would say, seeing him fragmented and damaged, for a person, who compared to the king of Gotham's underworld and mayor of the city was nothing but an ant, looking for protection, trying to escape from winter's tortures.
And that was exactly what happened, because Oswald got him off the hook of Arkham, Oswald gave him the position of his chief of staff, and Oswald offered him love, not her. Not her, whom he just met hours ago, whom she's kissing inside his home. Their home.
He figured his mother would advice him to make an attempt, try to earn Edward with his might, and if he went astray, then he could walk away, proud, self-respecting, knowing he had dedicated every single bit of his strength. If Edward didn't realise that, he wouldn't deserve Oswald, and he'd better step forward.
Oswald crawled around the smooth sheets of his bed, stretched his arms, breathed in the smell of detergent, struggling to do away with his negative thoughts. Alternitavely, they hastened withing his mind, each petty thought violated his brain, making his emotions mount to a greater extent.
It was withing his earshot, their giggles, kissing noises, and Oswald was a lot more than envious.
An urge to grab a knife and stab Edward's partner rised within him. He imagined how he would create a piercing cut on her body, scarlet blood flowing from the wound he had brought into being, the aroma of iron contending in the air along with his evil, sinful laughter.
Oh, how he desired to accomplish this idea, make it a reality, but what would Edward's reaction be? He loved the woman, and if he murdered his highly valued girl, what would the result be?
He rolled out of his fantasy, pranced around the room, battling with his heart and mind to regain his balance and composure. He wiped his tears with a spotless, white napkin, feeling ashamed of himself, a highly regarded man like him, crying for stupid reasons, not far from a vulnerable child who got lost in the middle of a crowd, and is screaming for his mommy.
But that didn't prevent more tears to appear, and Oswald let out a heavy sigh, a part of his tension leaving as well.
"Oswald?" Being busy blubbering and weeping, Oswald hadn't noticed the sounds that stopped echoing through the living room.
"Come in," He raised his voice, verifying that it was trustworthy enough and mopped his tears once again.
The idea that Edward had abandoned his activity of snogging Isabella caused the monster of curiosity grow inside his chest. He couldn't find any possible explanations to interpret the situation, but didn't say he wasn't glad.
The satisfying creaking noise of the door being pushed open and then immediately shut again ringed through Oswald's ears, Edward appearing in front of him, with rather messy hair, which admittedly made him even hotter. He tried not to fantasize about the passionate kiss Edward had probably experienced.
"Shouldn't you be with Isabella?" Oswald indicated his annoyance for her by discreetely making a change in his voice while pronouncing her name.
"She left, actually," Edward replied in an instant, always prepared for giving an accurate answer.
As a matter of fact, Oswald really appreciated Edward's intelligence, it was a quality of his which he recognized, and was delightful about it since it was part of Edward's personality which made him exceptionally special.
"What? I thought you two would have dinner together," he tried to sound sad about it, which he wasn't.
"But...you are not okay. I don't think you're tired as you said."
Oswald admired it how Ed could somehow understand his emotions, hear his thoughts, detect every irregularity that came into view through his day.
And it made him consider, if he was worthy of the man standing in front of him, if he could uncover the anomalies on Edward's mood like he did, make his day brighter, more joyful. But he realized that Edward already had this person in his life, which made negative feelings and thoughts intensify again.
He gave no response, not owning one anyway.
"In joy I may arrive, in sadness is my calling," he approached Oswald, a word representing a matching step. "I conjure on one's face, but soon fall from grace," he went towards him, nearer and nearer. " I often make shoulders my final resting place. What am I?"
There was minimal distance between them, and Oswald had to lift his head up, so he could observe Edward's face.
"Really Ed, a riddle?" Oswald wasn't annoyed, on the contrary, his voice sounded weary, jaded.
There was no possible way for Oswald to solve a riddle in his current situation, and taking his emotional world into account, the only thing he could do was cry. Yes, crying!
"Tears. The answer is tears. So what?"
"Why were you crying?" Oswald's eyes widened in complete surprise, striving to sort out how Edward uncovered him.
Didn't he dry his tears away? Was he audible enough, to interrupt their kissing proccess? He wondered how that would sound like; a distressed child, salty drops falling from his chin. Weren't the walls supposed to absorb every sound that attempted to go ahead of them?
And what would Edward think of him, the self-sufficient, dauntless Penguin, his eyes watery, emotions evading from his expression, his cries giving away his vulnerability, his weakness.
"I think you are mistaken, my friend. I was definitely not crying."
Was it even of any value to resist Edward's suspicions?
He continued to stare at him, Edward returning the gaze to him. Their eyes rested upon each other's, staying longer than average. It was like an unspoken game of 'whoever blinks first loses' only that it wasn't.
"Did you know that there are actually three kinds of tear-"
"Oh, shut up Ed!" Oswald shouted, his voice sounding funny in the air, his antsiness heating up.
The imagery of receiving the cliche answer 'make me' shaped in his head, making him bite his pale pink lips. He could feel every single pound his heart that beat in his chest; repeatedly and ceaselessly.
Edward formed a flat line with his lips, unhappy of being interrupted.
And then, at that instant, Oswald realized he didn't need any invitation to take action, he didn't need to wait, but execute his desires right away.
And that's when his hands touched Edward's far from soft coat, his fingertips latching on to it. He pulled him closer to him, forced his face to stoop over his. He noticed Edward's eyes growing larger in comprehension and felt his mouth form into a smirk, a sudden feeling of braveness emerging.
Edward's fresh and hot breath attacked Oswald's face, exposing him, open to attack. If someone pulled a knife in order to harm him he wouldn't be able to cope with the situation, but fortunately that was not the case.
They were facing each other directly, foreheads touching, the connection between them encreasing.
Oswald finally pulled the man before him, their lips meeting at one place, Edward's hand moving on Oswald's lower back, while the other traveled to his cheek. The Penguin gripped Edward's coat harder, his brain lit on fire.
He wanted to yell his victory, because even though he was risking his whole friendship with Edward Nygma, he was actually kissing him back.
Those delicate kisses, his pleasant taste, Ed's saliva mixed up with his own were salvation for Oswald. He desired this moment for such a long time, and he was breathless with delight as their kissing carried on.
"Ed," he whispered, gasping for breath, his hands wrapping his neck, Ed producing a low moan. "I love you."
"And I," he paused for a short moment. "have to cancel my date for tomorrow. And the one after that. And the next one..."
And they both walked up slowly into an affectionate hug, the arms holding each other strong, not allowing the other to leave.
They didn't mean to.