[ A question. A question wrapped in six thousand subtext questions. Questions that just by asking it, make a question. Ed is keeping an eye on Oswald now, afraid to look away from him and miss the way his face flickers everything he's thinking sometimes.
Oswald didn't exactly hesitate to give an answer. And he probably knows he knows there wasn't a 'No' to that one. Not the way he leapt right to love. He's always so damn sure of what he wants. Who he is. He has all the answers about himself. It's almost infuriating. Would be if it wasn't directed his way. Someone thinking about him all day. That's a lot. He almost regrets asking because he wouldn't be able to answer if the question was flipped. He doesn't know. The corners of his mouth twitch and he isn't sure if he was going to frown or smile.
What was whispering in the back of his own head all day? It was so muddled. He wants something. To have something. To be something. To belong somewhere. All day the whispers just cried out for him to grab attention. Take the mask off. Someone has to know it's him under there. Only one person knew it was him. Ed's just... What do a broken clock, an alligator, and a plate of cheese have in common? ]
I don't deserve to be happy over you, Oswald. [ Something with something because of something with someone. There's so much directed his way. And on his own he's .... ?
Despite how painful it is, Ed's leaning forward and into him. Just hold on to something. Maybe this works both ways with the happiness. ]
action;
Oswald didn't exactly hesitate to give an answer. And he probably knows he knows there wasn't a 'No' to that one. Not the way he leapt right to love. He's always so damn sure of what he wants. Who he is. He has all the answers about himself. It's almost infuriating. Would be if it wasn't directed his way. Someone thinking about him all day. That's a lot. He almost regrets asking because he wouldn't be able to answer if the question was flipped. He doesn't know. The corners of his mouth twitch and he isn't sure if he was going to frown or smile.
What was whispering in the back of his own head all day? It was so muddled. He wants something. To have something. To be something. To belong somewhere. All day the whispers just cried out for him to grab attention. Take the mask off. Someone has to know it's him under there. Only one person knew it was him. Ed's just... What do a broken clock, an alligator, and a plate of cheese have in common? ]
I don't deserve to be happy over you, Oswald. [ Something with something because of something with someone. There's so much directed his way. And on his own he's .... ?
Despite how painful it is, Ed's leaning forward and into him. Just hold on to something. Maybe this works both ways with the happiness. ]