the second mistake
The second mistake.
The sirens was your shelter after you were practically kicked out of house with a lame excuse from the little man, Barbara was beginning to grow on you to the point where she opened to you over certain topics that were a little sensitive for strangers to be talking. Despite of being a reserved person who couldn’t trust your secrets on every person you met, you were safe to call her a friend even if she constantly mocked your patience or wanted you to spill by accident things about your past with billions of questions that only Victor knew the answer.
So, of course, after having too many drinks one day you openly complained about the silence of the mayor’s right hand. “He doesn’t even attempt to talk to me, Barbs. I can’t stand it, I’ve had enough of him.”
“You’ve had enough of him or you’ve had enough of his silence?” she chuckled, another thing that with time you began to get used to. “If you want to get to know the Riddler, make the first move yourself.”
The second mistake you made was listening again to Barbara. One afternoon after hearing a snarky comment from the mayor and being dragged to Edward’s room by the owner of it, you broke the silence.
“Could you give me a riddle?” you knew that if you asked a riddle yourself he wouldn’t even get his gaze out of the book to give you the answer with a monotone voice.
The reaction you had to the question was better than you thought. He put the book aside only to give you a smirk and responding your requests. “What’s in it for me?”
The incessant song that played as a tool to distraction finally made you sick colliding with the bad tempered person, giving you the necessary reasons to turn it off and murmur. “Maybe that we could use the time to get along? Or do you want a deeper reason such as that I could go over there and tell him that I’m the bait?”
“I will strangle you.” He tenaciously caressed her cheek leaving the hand to rest on it as a direct threat. Everyone knew the origins of the Riddler and you were not an exception.
You carefully bumped his nose to yours, sliding his hand to your neck and whispered inches away from his lips, almost kissing him. “I hope that’s a promise.”
Something in Edward moved almost as if his mind suffered a shortcut after admiring the stare uninterrupted that you kept even though you moved during the whole sentence.
The limping sound approaching the room made you wink at the man smiling at you signalling what was about to happen, him moving the hand from your neck to it’s back and the free hand on your waist. Yours went to his sharp cheekbones that had your eyes traveling to them almost seconds after meeting him and your left hand tortured him by pulling his hair.
By the instant the man dared to flip the door open, he encountered a picture that took the breath out of his lungs. His eyes flickered closed almost as if a knife was being pulled inside his chest and pulled out within seconds.
‘_Of course a dazzling man with a distinct brain was also going to be a great kisser_’ you thought to yourself almost frustrated to be swooning over the taste of his lips.
Penguin, alternatively from your joy, finally worked out the courage to talk having just experienced the dreadful feeling of having his heart shattered in front of his face. The covetous mayor shot an eye to you, excusing the man still holding your waist roughly with a particular reason just like every time he walked through the door encountering you both in (what it seemed but it wasn’t) the middle of a conversation.
Who were you kidding? You spent the way back to the house expecting an assassin and inventing ways to get away with it, the paranoia made you believe many stupid things that could get you murdered like potion inside the toothpaste, a bomb inside your bed, the water tank in your house being replaced by acid. Many extravagant deaths that one would expect only to be executed by Oswald’s hands.
You muttered to yourself how doomed you were and how dumb you have to be if the second mistake you make is wanting to get to know Edward Nygma and allowing him to get to know you.
You definitely were dumb enough to shift the weight of your body from side to side when you met the man that paid you to fake your feelings vibrantly thrusting to you and grabbing your wrist without the fake greetings due to the absence of the bird man.
He pushed your shoulders enough so you could sit on the chair in front of the desk that was covered in books esthetically placed on top of each other and one thing shined with it’s uniqueness. The Rubik’s cube was the one thing that wasn’t a book and was symmetrically positioned between the gap of your hands.
You dared to inspect the face of the man that was doing the same with your face, both without expecting any type of emotion yet searching for it anyways. “You asked if I could give you a riddle.”
“I was…” You were about to explain what you meant but being pretty sure he knew, on the contrary you chosen to appreciate the man’s riddle with a smile.
The music began to fill your ears once again, it became a routine almost immediately but at least today you had a game in your hands that was keeping you too busy to notice the eyes fixating on your whole face, only to focus after awhile in a very important detail that was drawing all his attention from the book on his hands.
“If you bite your lip one more time, I’m going to do it for you.” And the whole room went silent, filled with the sound of Vivaldi but still too silent. You never realized that the comment made your whole body tense taken aback after being too stuck on the colored cube.
You tried to act it out by softly laying your head upon the palm of your hand. He was amused to see you trying but still got perplexed with your eyebrows being raise. “Is that so?”
Tauntingly your inferior lip obviously got caught by your teeth, daring the killer to go near you; crazing that he would kept the promise. But instead, he crossed his legs focusing his sight on everything but you.
“Why would you want to make conversation?”
Cursing the name of your friend, asuming it was her the one that bluffed your protests. “It’s boring when it’s just silence.”
“Were you expecting the job to be any different?” he wondered.
“I don’t know what I expected to come out of the offer, Nygma.” You huffed, his name provoking the submissive side of his to explain his behavior.
That was the first afternoon he talked about everything that went down with Penguin. The ups and downs; what they owed to each other; Isabella and her tragic mysterious accident. You even tried to defend the mad man by giving your boss examples of how love could drive people insane, he took the risk of asking if you were talking about personal experience. How bold he was to defy your silence amazed you, giving him only a peak into your memories.
The week after that turned out to work as therapy sessions, you once in awhile would humor him with your past, but what blotted the lines was the part where he dragged you into his room, every day seeming more genuine than the day before. That’s when you started to see him as a partner rather than the guy that paid your bills.
When you first heard about Basil, a malicious grin grew bigger on your lips. “Why would you stop to ruin his love life and instead move further? Take everything he loves, not only you.”
The suggestion sounded in his ears as a cold melody finally being released from the instrument. The big brain of his felt attracted to you in more ways that you could’ve imagined, having him actually fighting in his interior to reign over confusion. He always loved the ones that seemed weak, submissive, almost awkward as his old self but something in the reassuring way you talked, your legs bumping with his knees everytime the two were close enough to admire the other’s features, or maybe the combination in the two when you got loose on a kiss and ended up having the act put aside getting rougher only to be interrupted by the blue eyed man.
You were definitely not his type. With all the flirt and the passive-agressive attitude, you were his type of enemy.
But he had to make sure.
That night, a crest-fallen mayor crept in the darks by resting on his couch. He was spotted by the two that didn’t stop to meet his gaze, you both knew you had to play along and torment him with the sound of your desperate lips searching for comfort. One thing that did surprise you as well as the lover was the words that came out of Ed’s mouth.
“I love you,” your ears tingled after hearing those three words that were never referred to you.
There was something that those words unchained in you. Constantly hearing the mumble of them inside the mouths of your victim along with different names but they never were accompanied by your name.
You had discovered the power that a kiss had, it could seal promises and it could prevent you to slip your cover. You weren’t sure what was the reason that made you lean forward but it definitely was a little bit of those. You couldn’t love him, were you that hopeless to blurry the fantasy from reality? Was that because of your solitude?
The way your pink brim synchronized with his bright smile almost made both forget your denial, there was something inside the ritualistic dance of the tongues that sent waves of need to every edge in your body.
When Barbara Kean told you all about Jim Gordon, you discarded it all as an obsession. But oh, how the tables have turned and now you were the one desirous for a man that couldn’t pay any less attention to you.
That’s when you realized you had crossed your final destination which was your third mistake.