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It’s been forever.
Yet Ed feels a weird sense of familiarity as he’s led up a circular staircase made of glass and illuminated with blue lights, making the steps look like little ice floes.
He’d waited almost half an hour until he’d gotten the green light to be received in audience of fone of the most powerful and feared men in Gotham: The Penguin.
Ed doesn’t like calling him that. Holding onto Oswald’s name, it helps. Helps him to not forget, what they once used to have - and what could’ve been.
After reaching the top, Ed is led down a hallway, steps echoing against the blue glass tiles.
Gritting his teeth, Ed can’t help a tang of resentment stirring inside of him, eyes glued to the back of the man walking in front of him. Young, tall, very well-built and dressed in a form fitting suit.
While Oswald likes to keep his personal life a secret, it’s not so much of a secret that he enjoys the company of handsome men.
There’s a trickle of shame, but Ed hopes that there has never been anything even remotely similar to the bond they used to share. Once, so many many years ago.
Suddenly, the man in front of him stops. He turns around and gives a quick nod before stepping aside, giving free passage.
The door to Oswald Cobblepot’s office.
**
Unlike the rest of the club, the office is veiled in warm light. It always reminds Ed of the Van Dahl mansion, with its ancient furniture and decorations.
Seated behind a massive oak desk, Oswald purses his lips, bright eyes piercing into Ed’s like needles.
“Hello, old friend.”
Ed’s gut squeezes tight. Once that salutation used to have genuine meaning.
Nowadays, it just served as a cruel reminder of what Ed - what both of them - had lost.
“Hello, Oswald,” he greets back, trying to keep his voice steady.
“What a nice surprise,” Oswald drawls, propping his chin onto folded hands. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”
Ed swallows, stomach quivering slightly.
I wanted to see you.
He clears his throat. “Harley sends me. She wants to propose a plan to you. I suppose you can guess who this plan concerns.”
Oswald chuckles, leaning back in his chair.
“Oh, I can assure you I do,” he says, voice a little bit more soft now, tinged with amusement.
The corners of Ed’s mouth twitch. For a split second, it almost feels like they’re back - sharing a moment of understanding, of companionship.
“So, you’re her little messenger boy now?”
Ed huffs out a small laugh. “I wouldn’t exactly declare myself that, no.”
Oswald is staring him down, mint green eyes flashing almost challengingly.
“Well, then. Take a seat. Tell me about this plan.”
**
They empty a bottle of wine during their business discussion, and Ed is more than grateful for the alcohol in his blood. It makes it easier - being here, with Oswald.
“Such a good talk we’ve had,” Oswald says, clapping his hands together and leaning back in his chair with a smug smile, the skin around his eyes crinkled. “Please, send Harley my best regards. I will contact her shortly.”
Ed sits up, swaying a little on his feet. He doubts it’s from the wine but more likely from what he’s about to do next.
He hadn’t been entirely truthful. Coming at Harley’s request hadn’t been the only reason for him to come here tonight.
His hand brushes against something in his pockets. When he’d been searched for weapons earlier (cane unfortunately confiscated for the time being), their brute hands had nearly destroyed the delicate little gift he’d brought with him.
“There’s something else I need to tell you, Oswald.”
At that, Oswald squints his eyes.
Finally. Now there was no going back.
Ed’s heart is about to burst through his chest. Slowly, and not tearing his gaze away from Oswald, he reaches into the pocket of his green suit.
Oswald’s eyes widen. Ed is sure: there is a flicker of fear in these beautiful eyes. It stings, but knowing their history, he can’t blame him.
Ed can only blame himself for that.
It’s quiet, just the drum of his own heartbeat in his ears.
He’s glad to be wearing gloves, otherwise, Ed is sure the little object he’s grasping now, would’ve slipped from his sweat-damp fingers.
His arm feels incredibly heavy as he extends it, presenting his open palm.
Oswald inhales a shaky breath, opening his mouth before closing it and pressing his trembling lips to a thin line.
There’s an almost helpless look in his eyes as his gaze flickers from the object in Ed’s hand and back to Ed’s eyes.
Carefully, Oswald reaches out, their hands brushing together ever so slightly as Oswald takes it in his hand: a small origami penguin.
Oswald’s face twists with a pained expression, eyes shimmering wetly in the dim lights of his office as he looks at the paper figure. His shoulders drop, and now, it really is like all these years ago.
They’re not The Riddler nor The Penguin.
It’s them - Ed and Oswald - both broken beyond repair.
"I can't be bought, but I can be stolen with a glance. I'm worthless to one, but priceless to two,” Ed whispers, voice thick, pouring every ounce of regret that had built up in these long heavy years into his words.
Oswald squeezes his eyes shut, face hardening before he turns it away from Ed’s sight.
“You should go.”
And with that, his fist closes around the little paper penguin, crushing it.