[He pauses, still breathing deeply and unsteadily. Still primed for a fight Lee isn’t starting with him.
Once upon a time, Ed had been a stranger to him – too needy, too fixated, too much. And still, even as a stranger, he had managed to save Oswald when he had all but given up on Gotham, on his dreams, on himself. But the two of them had been alike in ways beyond their mutual resentment for Jim Gordon: they were hungry for validation and respect. They understood what it meant to feel othered, to feel like the answer to a question no one asked.]
He didn’t know Ed! [Oswald doesn't care that Alfred is in earshot; he stopped caring a long time ago.] How does that help me? How??
[He demands, wide-eyed, rigid and shaking.]
Nearly everyone I have ever loved is dead, with the exception of a child whom I sent away from this godforsaken cesspool for his own good, for a chance not just to survive but to thrive! I am sick and tired of fighting for some semblance of happiness, for what little I am allowed to have, only for it to be ripped away from me, time and again, because nothing ever changes!
[His voice rings out through the church; strangers glance his way, startled and uneasy.
Another sob swells inside him and he struggles to breathe around it, needing air, needing out. He looks away, sharply, up at the window, throat lurching. Quietly cracking under the weight of all the things he left unsaid and that Ed will never hear. His fury collapses.
There’s a familiar image of Jesus on the stained glass, his arms outstretched with the false promise of eternal life. Oswald stares and stares until it blurs over.]
...There is nothing left for me here. [He says thickly. His twitching lips press together.] I will see Edward laid to rest... and then I will leave Gotham, forever.
[He takes up his crutches and clicks past her, making for the exit.]
no subject
Once upon a time, Ed had been a stranger to him – too needy, too fixated, too much. And still, even as a stranger, he had managed to save Oswald when he had all but given up on Gotham, on his dreams, on himself. But the two of them had been alike in ways beyond their mutual resentment for Jim Gordon: they were hungry for validation and respect. They understood what it meant to feel othered, to feel like the answer to a question no one asked.]
He didn’t know Ed! [Oswald doesn't care that Alfred is in earshot; he stopped caring a long time ago.] How does that help me? How??
[He demands, wide-eyed, rigid and shaking.]
Nearly everyone I have ever loved is dead, with the exception of a child whom I sent away from this godforsaken cesspool for his own good, for a chance not just to survive but to thrive! I am sick and tired of fighting for some semblance of happiness, for what little I am allowed to have, only for it to be ripped away from me, time and again, because nothing ever changes!
[His voice rings out through the church; strangers glance his way, startled and uneasy.
Another sob swells inside him and he struggles to breathe around it, needing air, needing out. He looks away, sharply, up at the window, throat lurching. Quietly cracking under the weight of all the things he left unsaid and that Ed will never hear. His fury collapses.
There’s a familiar image of Jesus on the stained glass, his arms outstretched with the false promise of eternal life. Oswald stares and stares until it blurs over.]
...There is nothing left for me here. [He says thickly. His twitching lips press together.] I will see Edward laid to rest... and then I will leave Gotham, forever.
[He takes up his crutches and clicks past her, making for the exit.]