Get out

60 10 29

A/n: thats Oscar just with purple eyes in so much pain i cant move so....heres a chapter. Im going to find a hole and cry in it. EVERYTHING HURTS BEING SICK IS HORRIBLE AND NEVER DO IT!!!

Third person pov

Victor Zsasz watches Oscar closely, the baker clearly shaken. He slowly steps over the bodies littering the floor, staining the once pristine tiles with blood spilling from their wounds. Victor stares at his crush with unblinking eyes, stalking forward slowly and holding the gun towards the air, his finger visibly away from the trigger.

Its only after seeing Oscar not react to his steps did he understand that the gentle man was panicking or retreated into his mind. "Oscar are you hurt anywhere?" Victor makes sure hes speaking loud, each word slow to swe if it would register.

Oscars dark purple eyes are wide in horror before they roll back and he goes limp, falling, fainting. Victor barely manages to catch him in time, craddling Oscars head and shoulders.

Victor frowns when his hand craddling Oscar feels wet, he adjusts the baker so his head rests on his upper thigh, taking hid hand away from Oscars head carefully. Just as Victor feared, his hand came back bloodly and he wished he could bring these men back to life so he could kill them again.

"Oscar? Oscar wake up please." Victor tried to keep his tone soft and it mostly worked. Victor brings a hand up to Oscars face, gently touching hus cheekbons. His face twitches before he slowly blinks awake. "Vic? Wha-" When Oscar tries to move, the assassin simply places a hand on his chest to stop him from moving.

"You're bleeding." Oscar gasps at this, immediately patting at his chest. "What happened?"

Victor glances pointedly at the dead men littering the ground. Oscar pales, and looks up at Victor with a scared expression. "Leave. You have to go." Oscar hisses as he quickly moves to put distance between Victor and himself.

"What?" Victor stares at Oscar with a hurt expression. "I just saved your life, and you immediately kick me out, Scar? That hurts." Dispite the mock hurt expression he has on his face, it was clear that is wasnt for show.

Oscar doesnt bother looking over at Victor as he forces himself to stand. He doesn't even spare a glance at the hit man as he rushes into the back room. Victor frowns deeper, hairless eyebrows pulled together but he dejectly takes his coat and leaves.

Victor Zsasz knows when he's not wanted.

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