Chapter 2

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“Oswald, can you hear me? Oswald! I need you to stay awake, please.”
There are hands running up and down his arms, and through his one good eye Oswald can make out Ed kneeling in front of him, eyes wide and worried, tears welling up in them.

Has he ever seen Ed cry before?

(Twice, actually, but how is he supposed to remember at this moment?)
(One a long time ago, before they were lovers or even enemies, just two friends living together in a shared space and Ed told him about the belt scars and cigar burns on his back, and the other more recent, when they got over their shit and made love for the first time)
(it was bloody and painful and messy because Ed’s mouth was still a horror show from all the torture and Oswald was still too fucking cold but it was them and that was all that mattered)

“Ed?” It takes him a minute to remember he has working vocal chords. Is the room supposed to be spinning like that?

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Okay, upsy-daisy, Oswald! We’re running out of time,” Ed says, voice tight and frightened. Oswald can feel hands grabbing onto his arm and pulling him up, and suddenly he’s standing, knees threatening to shake right out from underneath him.

“Just give me one minute,” Oswald manages to get out, reaching blindly for the staircase railing and resting heavily against it, his chest heaving. He manages to look at Ed, who has gone back to fluttering around him like a nervous bird, cheeks stained with tears.

Why is Ed crying, what’s wrong? Is he hurt? Oh God, what if he isn’t okay?

“I’m so sorry,” Ed says, reaching for his face and placing a gentle (so so gentle) hand on his left cheek. “I saw the grenade and I froze, I’m so-”

“Shhh…” Oswald can vaguely register his hands waving Ed off, only knows him and Ed and the tiny self deprecating smile spreading across his face. “It’s the least I could do.”

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