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Oscar’s cheek stings like hell, and the world around him seems to spinning as he tries to focus on his surroundings. His mind feels fuzzy and unclear, which makes sense, given what just happened. Everything aches, and he realizes that he landed right in front of a tree, so that explains the back pain as well.
There’s something very off, other than the obvious, but he can’t really think straight at the moment. All that is on his mind is the fact that Qrow had just punched him- or rather, Ozpin, but that doesn’t really matter when they both share the same body, now, does it?- and it came with every ounce of malice inside of him. It was calculated, and thrown on purpose, and that hurts Oscar far more than the actual, physical hit.
There’s something about it that makes him feel like he’s failed them in some way, even though he logically knows that they are all currently mad at Ozpin, and not him. He trusted Qrow, for heaven’s sake, and the man just disregarded the entire bond they had and didn’t care whether his anger at Ozpin would affect him as well. It’s as if he’s invisible, and Oscar hates that. He hates it so much, because it’s all he’s ever known for a very, very long time.
After he lost his parents, everyone else he knew turned a blind eye on him, and only his aunt had the heart to take him in. He trusted her more than anything in those few years, and yet he decided to just up and go, leaving her without even as much as a note explaining why he was leaving or where he was going. Maybe this is his punishment. He should’ve never listened to a voice in his head, because it hasn’t lead him to any good at all.
Not to him or to his teammates, it seems. Trusting Ozpin was a mistake, and he should’ve just stayed home and kept his life as it was. Anything is better than the situation he’s managed to get himself caught up in at the moment.
Cautiously, Oscar lifts his head to meet the gaze of Qrow, who looked like he was about to punch something else to let off the steam that hasn’t yet dissipated from his system, and he feels tears start to well up in his eyes. From the physical or emotional pain, he didn’t know. He just knew that he has to get out of there, because he isn’t being anything to them other than a burden. He can’t fight, he can’t help others, and he’s only having a negative effect on everyone around him. Maybe he’s better off alone, at least for now.
“What happened?” he distantly hears Ruby ask, and he looks up again.
“He’s gone,” Oscar tells her, and that’s when he realizes that that was what’s wrong. That was what felt off, and he couldn’t place it until now. Ozpin had left him.
He feels betrayed. This is not his blame to take.
“That bastard! Tell him we’re not done yet!”
Yang’s voice. Oscar flinches back, hitting his back against the tree again. He suppresses the pain and forces himself to stand up. He’s done here. He’s not going to try to explain himself to people that will never understand, or forgive him (is it still really Ozpin that they’re mad at?) for what has just happened.
He does the one thing he knows how to do best: run.
He doesn’t even know where he’s heading. He picked the direction where they weren’t crowding him, where there was an empty space that he could slip through and just take off. He remembers feeling Ruby reach for his shirt as he sprinted past her, but ultimately failing to tighten her grip enough to actually hold him back.
Good.
He runs through the snow, barely able to see the trees and foliage all around him as he reaches to wipe at his eyes with his gloved hands. He doesn’t deserve this. Or at least he thinks he doesn’t, because he knows that he didn’t actually do anything wrong to the group. Ozpin did, and it’s Ozpin’s responsibility only. Except that the man isn’t here anymore, and Oscar is so done with keeping up with all of his lies and deceit. He’s not going to support such a man, even if he can never really truly escape him.
He pulls at his hair in distress, trying not to scream aloud right here, right now, in the middle of a forest and a place that he doesn’t know his way around at all. He wants Ozpin out, out, out.
He doesn’t want to be here.
He doesn’t know how far he makes it before his knees give out, his legs burning from the exertion of such a feat. He’s still not used to this type of exercise, the amount of energy it takes a huntsman or huntress to actually perform all of the attacks they need to do during battle. It’s impressive, no doubt, but it’s not for him. He’s a farmhand; he belongs back at his home with his aunt, working in the fields. It was not a very interesting life and it got quite dull at times, but it was far more fulfilling than what he’s doing now.
He breathing hard, gasping for air as he looks around him. No sign of all the others, so that’s good. He needs some alone time for now, and he hopes that they have enough decency to at least respect that.
Drawing his knees up to his chest, he tries to calm himself down. There’s a small tree beside him, so he crawls his way over there and leans against it, closing his eyes and attempting to still his breathing and his hear that is beating far too fast to be considered even remotely healthy.
It takes a while, but he finally gets the peace and solitude he has wanted so badly. Everything in him is a little less wired; it may be as calm as he’s going to get right now, but it’ll do. He breathes out, truly feeling how cold it is out here. It’s nice, in comparison to the flame that burns inside of him. The unrest and agitation that’s lowered down, but is still there.
Pressing his forehead against his knees, he tries not to think about the situation at hand, but rather all of the fun moments and good memories he’s had in the past. Picking flowers from the grass back at the farm, helping his aunt bake cookies and cook dinner on warm Saturday nights.
He feels a smile starting to tug at the corner of his lips, and he allows himself this small, but priceless slice of happiness. Happiness that he probably will never experience ever again for a long time, but happiness nonetheless.
He relaxes enough to almost fall asleep, until he hears something nearby. He looks up, frowning and squinting at the trees.
“Hey, kid.”
He startles, almost yells at the sound of Qrow’s voice. Whipping around, he catches himself before falling backwards into the snow, and looks up at the figure.
“Wha-” he begins, but doesn’t get far before he’s cut off by the same person.
Qrow waves his hands dismissively. “Your footsteps show, especially when the snow is so deep.”
Oscar mentally scolds himself for that. “Oh.”
“But,” Qrow says, sitting down to get down to Oscar’s level as to not appear condescending or as a threat. He knows that the kid has gone through more than enough for a day, and he doesn’t want to make the situation any worse than it currently is. “I’m not here to do anything to you.”
Oscar looks dubious, still keeping a good distance between the two of them. He’s not about to be so stupid again.
“You say it as if you haven’t done anything.”
Qrow looks down at the snow on the ground, picking a fallen leaf up.
“I’m sorry.”
He says it as if it’ll fix everything that’s happened, and Oscar snaps.
“Stop saying that! If you were truly sorry, you wouldn’t have come after me!” He yells, suddenly not caring about keeping his distance or staying safe from the man that had hurt him not too long ago. He shoves Qrow, hard.
He falls back, and Oscar wishes he wasn’t already sitting beforehand and that there isn’t snow under him, because he wants it to hurt. He wants it to hurt as much as he himself has been hurt, but he knows it wasn’t reciprocated, and it makes him angry.
Qrow puts his hands up and looks at Oscar, showing no harm.
Oscar turns away, burying his face in his hands.
About a minute passes until Qrow thinks better of it and slowly gets back up to a sitting position, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Oscar flinches at the unexpected contact, and he almost retracts it, feeling guilty. He never meant for this to happen. Acting out of impulse is a terrible way to make decisions, and he should know that after years of drinking and hurting those he cares about.
He keeps making the same mistakes over and over again, to various people, and it’s killing him inside. He doesn’t want to be the enemy, he doesn’t want to be the villain to those that love him.
But he can’t stop. He needs help- they both do.
“Hey,” Qrow tries again, and this time, Oscar replies, taking his hands away from his face, but still refusing to make eye contact.
“What?”
“Are you injured?”
“You mean from you? Yes.”
Bad question. Qrow pinches the bridge of his nose. “Crap, I’m so sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to cause you any harm; I couldn’t keep my emotions in check at the time. I was upset at Ozpin, not you. Never you.”
“Sure.”
“I’m not asking you to forgive me, but… I’m not lying to you. I’m not, Oscar, please.”
“Why should I believe you?” Oscar asks, and there’s a bit of hurt in his voice.
Qrow’s heart clenches at that. “I- I don’t know anymore. I’m an absolutely atrocious adult figure, and no one deserves to have to deal with that.”
Oscar scoffs. “Yeah, that part’s clear enough.”
Qrow runs a hand through his hair. “You don’t need to speak to me ever again if you don’t want to. But please, I don’t want you to just stay out here in the cold. At least stick with the rest of the group. There are people who care about you.”
“How can you be so sure about that?” Oscar asks, and he looks at Qrow with a new sense of confidence, a new sense of determination. He’s fierce in a way he never thought possible, and it’s all out of necessity. He can’t stay silent anymore, especially if he wants people to actually listen and pay attention to what he has to say.
“They’re worried. We decided to split up a bit to search for you,” Qrow elaborates, trying his best to convince the kid that he’s not a burden. They don’t want to get rid of him, no matter how much he thinks they do.
Oscar seems to pause to consider this for a moment. Qrow gives him time; it’s a lot of process, especially in such a short amount of time and for someone so young. He doesn’t know his exact age, but he couldn’t be more than thirteen or fourteen, judging from his appearance. Far too young to be caught up in such a mess.
“Why?” Oscar asks, and Qrow almost forgets that they were having a conversation.
“Because we care for you,” Qrow reiterates. He needs him to know the importance of what he’s saying, because it’s true, and he needs to hear it more than anything.
“Okay…” Oscar says, pondering. He sighs and shakes his head. “Guess I have no choice but to go back, huh?”
Qrow bites his lip at that. He doesn’t want him to feel as if he doesn’t have a say in this, but he also doesn’t want him to stay out here, all alone. He tries to answer indirectly.
“I mean, it’s almost sunset,” Qrow tells him, looking up at the sky. Oscar follows his gaze. “And we’ll all search for some sort of canned food when we find somewhere to stay.”
Sure enough, the sky is beginning to fade from blue to an orange hue. Oscar presses his lips into a thin line, still not feeling like going back just yet. He doesn’t want to face the others. Even if they’re not going to do anything to him anymore, there’ll still be a tension in the air, and it’s going to be awkward.
Qrow must notice his hesitation, because he tries to reassure him. “Hey. We don’t need to go right now.”
Oscar leans back against the tree again, and nods.
“Whenever you’re ready, kiddo. I’ll be here for you.”
Things might not be okay now, but the two of them have hope that it will be. Soon.
Now that they’re both here for each other.