β΄β ⧴β΅Β They say the city never forgets a name andΒ OSCAR 'OZZY' DEGOMEZΒ is no testament to that. TheΒ THIRTY-THREE-year-old has carved out their place in NYCβs underbelly. On the surface, theyβre allΒ DEDICATED, smooth moves and sharp eyes. But dig a little deeper and youβll find something far more dangerous ,Β VIOLENT, with no hesitation and even less remorse. They move through the streets like they own them, wearing the colors of theΒ NOCTURNEΒ and running the game as aΒ WEAPONS SPECIALIST. Some say theyβve always been here. Others swear somethingβs changed. Either way, theyβre not just part of the story. Theyβre rewriting it.
βπ·π'π πππ ππ’π ππππ π ππππππ πππ π ππππ’ ππ ππππππππ, π±ππ πππ ππππ πππ'π πππ ππ’π πππππππ’ πππ πππππ, πΈ πππππβ
BASICS:
Name:Β Oscar 'Ozzy' DeGomez (no one really knows his name is Oscar)
Nicknames: Oz, Ozzy
Gender:Β Male
Age:Β Thirty-three
Sexuality:Β Does it fucking matter?
Gang: Nocturne
Occupation:Β Weapons Specialist & Drug Dealer
Birthdate:Β October 27th
Hometown: Spanish Harlem, New York
+ traits:Β Dedicated, Loyal, Hardworking
- traits:Β Brooding, Cynical, Violent
Oscar 'Ozzy' DeGomez grew up with blood-splattered walls and sirens, peppered with gun shots in his lullabies. Raised in Spanish Harlem by a mother who valued her next fix more than food, and a father who taught him how to throw punches before he could write his name, Ozzy discovered early that survival meant hitting first and never apologizing.
By thirteen, he was already a standard face in juvie. Busted for fighting, carrying, and pushing dime bags just to keep the lights on. School was a battleground, and Ozzy was a soldier; he didnβt walk through it, he stalked.
Violent. Possessive. If a girl had the misfortune to capture his eye, anyone else who dared peek at her wrong found themselves bloodied or broken. He didnβt know how to love without owning. Still doesnβt.
His early adulthood was just a longer version of the same tune: locked doors, parole hearings, shattered bones, most of them not his. His rap sheet reads like a cautionary tale, and yet he never flinched.
Now? Heβs toughened, more calculating. Still sulking, still despairing, but channeling that brutality into something beneficial. As Nocturneβs Weapons Specialist, Ozzy deals in precision and firepower, stocking the gang with everything from modified Glocks to custom-built silencers. He knows the street better than most, and heβs earned his place not with charisma, but with fidelity, efficiency, and the threat of what happens when you cross him.
He still moves product on the side. Some habits die hard, and some were never meant to die at all.
Grayson sat on his couch, mindlessly sketching, half watching a rerun of Catfish at the same time. He wasn't really paying attention to it, mostly he was lost in what he was drawing. Everything was draining as of late. After his last conversation with Ozzy, however, Gray had hope that life was going to start to turn around. He had laid it all out for him, split himself wide open for the man, and now they were partners. They were going to try and build a future together, fresh, a new start. After everything, he just couldn't believe it still. And then his phone buzzed with the name Ozzy flashing across the screen....
Grayson: hey, you.
Grayson: oh, okay....you know, if there is one thing i've learned its that nothing good ever comes out of those four words when you're in a relationship.
Grayson's tone was light but laced with concern. He returned to sketching a bit, only this time he had lit a cigarette as well, trying to ease his nerves.
Ozzy: y-you know I want to fucking do this right? you and me?
His throat tightens, his lids shutting as he listens to Grayson. Well, the kid wasn't exactly wrong... was he? Wetting his lips, he hates the way his chest aches, his mind reeling from what would occur once he confessed.
Ozzy: I don't want you to feel like I'd ever hide anything from you, Gray...
Ozzy trails off for a moment, his free hand lifting to wrap around the necklace that now lies across his chest.
Ozzy: Levi and I spoke. We've come to an understanding... and said what needed to be said. But...
But what?! He fucking disrespected his new partner by kissing someone who also had someone at home waiting for him?
Ozzy: We kissed. And before you say anything, let me just tell you, it doesn't fucking mean what you think it means... I swear it fucking doesn't, babe.
βyβyouβ¦β she's almost unable to process the words. they hit her like blunt trauma. we loved each other. did. do. he gave me his necklace. i fucking kissed him. her lips parted in instinct, in disbelief, but nothing came out. no venom. no mask. no detached, polished version of herself. just a sound β small, broken, involuntary. a strangled gasp caught in her throat like it got snagged on a hook.
and then it cracked.
the sob that broke from her chest was ugly. wet. raw. her hands flew to her face, nails digging into her skin as if she could claw the grief out by force. ozzy was the last person levi kissed. the last person to feel his mouth, his breath, his closeness. not her. not the girl who slept beside him the night before. not the one who told him i love you while his breath was shaky and his eyes were sad. no. he kissed ozzy. gave ozzy the necklace. gave ozzy the ending. the thought alone felt like being gutted.
βwhy?β it came out like a gasp, punched out between sobs. her voice was so small it felt like it belonged to someone else. βwhy did you kiss him?β it sounded pathetic, she knew. like a child asking why they werenβt picked. like middle school heartbreak reanimated in grown-woman grief. she sounded young. so, so young. not like irina volkova, cool and curated. not even like the version that gray or kenjie had seen, the frantic, mascara-smudged mess chasing oblivion. this was something different.
βthe last time i talked to himβ¦it was about you,β she choked out, each word dissolving into the next, manic and messy and soaked in tears. βand now you β you were the last person to see him, andβ¦β her voice broke, and broke again, until the words barely formed. she sucked in a breath that stung like chlorine in her lungs. βwas it always supposed to be you two?β she sobbed, dizzy with it now, her whole body trembling. βand me and gray, weβre justβ¦background noise? filler? fucking commercial breaks between the real love story?β
and then she was pacing. fast, clumsy, like a bird smacking against a windowpane, over and over. βi loved him. i loved him and he loved me back and now i donβt even know if it mattered. he didn't get to move on. he got a bullet.β the cries came uncontrollably now, deep, guttural sounds. her eyes flitted to the door instinctually. like she was still waiting for levi to walk through it and say none of this is real.
There had been a considerable span in Oscar DeGomez's existence when he prayed to a nonexistent deity to be obliterated off the face of the fucking planet. To sink into the endless black pools of extinction. Begged, pleaded, to take his last breath⦠To finally release all the fury within to find tranquility, or whatever the hell it was that you were supposed to feel as the darkness took over.
But in this very moment? Watching emotions, unlike anything he's ever witnessed, erupt across Irina's features?
Ozzy wanted to die.
Viridescent hues refused to waver. Even as burning tears broke through, flowing to collect at the base of his throat. Not only had he destroyed himself⦠but he'd selfishly thieved precious time with the man she'd loved.
why? why did you kiss him? He must have appeared as a phantom of the former being that he was. Sowed in place, white knuckled fists, jaw agonizingly taut. But the words? They escaped before he could comprehend what actualities were fleeing. "Because it felt like goodbye." Like the end⦠If only he'd known how accurate those feelings were.
The sobs. The cracking of a pained, delicate voice. It ravaged what little remained pieced together. "I'm fucking sorry!" The useless apology rang out loudly through the space. "I never in a million damn years thought that this would be the outcome! Or I never would have asked him to meet me. I wouldn't have fucking kissed him!" A fist raises to viciously pound against the side of his head as if trying to shake his thoughts free.
But her next question forces him to snap back into reality, outrage finding his features. "What?!" With a daunting step forward, he couldn't contain the rapid rise in his voice. "You and Grayson aren't fucking footnotes! You're not a goddamn commercial break, or place holders or whatever is going through that head of yours!" Had she not understood what she meant to Levi? "You were where he was going to. You were what he wanted⦠just as Gray is what and who I want!"
It devastated Oz to think that either of them would be plagued with such unfathomable thoughts. "At one point, we were in love. Yes. That's true.. And parts of that love never died, but it shifted. We loved one another, always will⦠would. But that doesn't overshadow what we felt for both of you!"
In an instant, Ozzy is crossing the room. If he wants to scream, beat him, take her grief out on him, he'd willingly take every punishment she subjected him to. But that didn't stop him from reaching out, wrapping his arms around her fragile frame, and tugging her tightly against his chest.
Location: Echo Motel, an hour after Levi left.
For: @frgdvoid
Ozzy sat on the floor of the grimy motel, hands running through his hair, plucking gently at his onyx locks. It was evident that he and Levi had shattered free from one another. It was as if he was ultimately able to submit his heart and all his being to Grayson. Was he terrified? Fuck yeah. He didn't know how to be a proper lover. Had no concept how to commit without authorizing his vicious covetousness to take over⦠But with Gray? He longed to try.
Reaching for his phone, he finally hit the screen, calling up the boy he was willing to give everything to.
[PHONE CALL]:
Ring, Ring, Ring.
"Babe� We need to talk."
Lydia bites back the snappy comment I'm not a Doctor and instead allows him his moment. Anguish, grief, anger, it feels the room and becomes palpable to the point she needs a deep breath. She allows herself to take it while he paces, shaking off his jacket, bruises and other marks cover him and now she's wondering if she needs to call the police. What good would that do right now when he's in crisis though? Keeping her own composure, her voice soft, her heart rate and breathes slow and deliberate, she thinks of some words for him.
"I do karaoke. I used to sing a lot as a kid." She starts, getting up from her own comfy chair and turning on the fan for him, walking over to the bookshelf in the corner of the room and looking through her record collections. "Big fan of the pop punk scene, but coming from nowhere Southern USA," A laugh and a shake of the head as she looks back at him. "It wasn't exactly popular." She picks out a record that's acoustic covers, slower tempo, lower volume to try and even out her company's energy.
"I had the scene kid hair and everything, my mom hated it. But it's kind of funny to picture little me with pink streaks, heavy eyeliner, and skinny jeans delivering a speech to the government, protesting the destruction of reservations." Another short giggle as she remembers the photos in the paper, a bit of embarrassment washing over her.
"NO!" His voice booms, head shaking as if he were trying to rid his mind of her words. "I don't want to talk about when we were young or teenagers!" It only reminded him of Levi... that very last thing he needed plaguing him.
The pounding in his head, the drugs coursing through his veins... it made it impossible to sit still, to ease the rapid beating of his heart.
"Are you good?" Ozzy pauses, peering at her with wild eyes, before dropping to the ground, his hand brushing across the canine's back as he rocks back and forth.
"Singing? Are you like some undiscovered star ot some shit?"
Everything ached in his body, his brain, and even his soul. He was consumed by anger, by grief, by self-loathing.
"Fuck it's hot!" Rising one more, he begins his rapid back and forth once more. Hands run through his sweaty locks, pushing them back out of his face.
"Tell me... I don't know, what did you eat for breakfast or some shit?"
the statement lands like a punch, sharp and merciless. it nearly knocks the breath out of her. funny β she hadnβt thought she had any wind left in her to lose. she can put two and two together. sheβs not stupid. she understands.
ozzy was the last person to see levi, wasnβt he?
the thought slides in like a blade, and for a moment she can hardly bear the weight of it. it hurts. levi had died before she ever fully understood the language of their connection. before she could translate what they meant to each other into something whole. sheβll never know if he still loved ozzy the way he once did. it makes her feel selfish. selfish for wondering where that leaves her, for fearing sheβll always be a footnote in leviβs story compared to the gravity of ozzy. but she also aches for oz, for being the one saddled with the weight of being the last person to talk to him. the final witness. her feelings are so complicated, so difficult to comb through or name that it bubbles up that nauseous feeling again.
she can hardly form words. her throat feels locked. βwβwhat happened?β the words are a whisper, softer than she expected, and then the plea slips out before she can catch it. βplease. please, ozzy.β sheβs begging. god, sheβs begging. the realization stings. she hadnβt expected this desperation to take the place of anger or jealousy or blame. but it does. all that remains is the frantic need to know. what happened between them? what did levi say?
Seeing her was as agonizing as a slice of a rusted blade coated in salt. Ozzy wanted to ease her suffering, not add to it... Yet, all the answers he had for her would only bring misery. Heartache and torment. Irina didn't deserve that. But at the same time, she earned honesty, no matter how painful it was.
And this? This, he couldn't deny her.
"We needed to talk... considering everything that happened at the hospital." His glassy gaze falls to the glass-coated ground, his chest tightening in despair. This wasn't fair... to either of them, yet... here they stood. Face to face... heartbroken and shattered in their own way.
"I had a lot of explaining to do..." With a slight tremor, his hand reaches up to cup the necklace that lay protected by his sweat-coated shirt. "Or past was complicated.. but Levi-" His voice cracks, jaw clenching as he forces back yet another violent tidal wave of emotions.
"We needed fucking closure.. or whatever the fuck people call it!" The words suddenly tumble from his lips in a messy rush. "We loved each other... We did. Do. But we knew it was time to free one another... move on."
A hand finds his dark, messy locks, and he tugs ruthlessly at it. "He gave me his necklace and I fucking kissed him," Ozzy confessed before sinking to the floor, his head drooping between his legs.
βyou donβt need to do that.β levi says, not bluntly, not coldly but almost showing no emotion. he finds himself growing heavy from staring up at the ceiling as he sits up finally and stares at oz who was leaning against the wall. βi wanted you to love me for so long.β he says, his piercing blues studying ozβs emerald greens. βyou cannot say i did not do shit.β a pause as he stares at oz. oz who was someone he loved so deeply but also hurt him so much. βi thought you didnβt want me to be there you wereβ¦β¦β a pause, levi was thinking the same thing oz was probably, humiliated? he letβs his eyes rest shut. βsomeone i care about. too much. you are someone i want to have faith in, and most of the people in my life are dead,β he letβs those last part of his words wander off into nothingness, as his gaze stares lifelessly at oz. was the world a cruel place? levi tended to believe that it was more often than not. levi also tended to believe that the world put levi in a series of unfortunate events. oz was always wrong to ever love him. and thinking it would work out. just in the same way that he was opening up to irina. part of him was so closed off to her, because he felt like she wouldnβt be able to love him fully. because she was afraid of to know how he fully ended up in the underboss spot, in love with a member of nocturne by heart. he wasnβt superstitious until he was. she wouldnβt ever be able to accept what he has done. he letβs his eyes stare right at ozβs gaze. as he stands up from the bed that seemed like grandmaβs quilt and he stares at oz dead in the eyes. pulling off his necklace from around his neck, revealing his hamsa necklace. that he never took off even from when he knew oz from all those years ago. now levi takes it off and places it around ozβs neck. βitβs yours.β he says softly, squaring himself along oz visage, not thinking much of it. βto bring protection, whenever you need it. whenever anyone else needs it.β hamsa, meaning it wards off the evil eye and brings protection. protection that levi was never warranted to have to begin with. anyone in his life now would say that. he letβs his forehead rest against ozβs, clearly visible from arguing.
"I know that. I know I'm just as much to blame if not fucking more." He could have let his feelings be known. Showed him how he had still coveted him. Dreamt of him. Longed for him. But he was a coward. Fearful of a wrathful sire who would gladly bring death to his only heir than admit that he was in love with a male. "Levi-" But what was there to say? Clearly, his emotions had been the same. He'd wanted nothing more than to be with the male before him for years. He'd kept an eye on him. Watching from a distance. Protecting from afar. But now? Now it was time for them to release the other... allow one another to find another love.
But as Levi closes the distance between them, Ozzy can't help the gentle groan in his chest. "Levi, don't-" But the chain is pulled from his neck and placed around his own. A hand lifts, gripping the pendant as if it were a lifeline. Ozzy had never seen him without it. Never not caught the gleam of the chain around his throat... and now? Now it felt like a goodbye.
His palms lift to cup the other's face, eyes burning with the threat of tears that he refused to let fall.
"A part of me will forever belong to you... You fucking know that, don't you?" He groaned, lifting his palms to grip Levi's face between calloused flesh. "But you need to allow yourself to love again... even if you get hurt, I can assure you it's worth the gamble." His words are a low whisper before he leans in, pressing an unhurried, painful kiss against his lips.
levi lets his eyes rest shut as he hears ozβs words fill the air. βcan we please just not yell at each other for once?β levi snaps at him. βcan you just listen to me?β he points his index finger at his own chest as he finally moves away from the door and lets himself sink and sit down into the bed. a bed that possibly has termites or bed bugs and has had so many lives who had stayed in this worn down hotel room. He glances up at the ceiling. seeing the wallpaper peeling from the ceiling. maroon and green checkered was an interesting choice to choose for this room where the bedspread resembled grandmaβs carpet. except levi never knew any of his family like that. his was all gone aside from his uncle. who was really the one who saved oz. not him. levi was scared. he was just tyring to keep oz away from is dad. he letβs his back fall back into the bed, running his fingers through his long hair. he was just so tired of all the yelling, the screaming and the crying lately. he desperately didnβt want this conversation to end like their next door neighbor. but the fact that oz had hurt his ex? it really did pave the way that levi waited for the next person to come around. βwhy do you do that?β levi asks. his voice calm, as his blues look over at oz. βis it because of your dad? you are not him. you deserve to be happy, with whoever you choose. With grayson. you donβt need to do that anymore. heβs not in your life anymore.β a pause. βyouβve overcome so much. i am proud of you. evenβ¦. if we werenβt ever meant to be together. iβm trying so hard. to justβ¦. let go of everything. i...... i donβt know if i can love her properly. i thought i was likeβ¦.. weird or something when that last guy left. maybe no one ever wanted to be with me? iβm likeβ¦ destined to be alone in this world or something. until now at least. does that make sense? β he lets his gaze flicker up to the ceiling, letting his chest rise and fall as his hand rests on his chest. it was quiet between them for a moment as they heard the sobs continue from next door.
He falls back against the wall, the back of his head tapping against it, ignoring the fact that the barrier could crumble. "Fine, fine, speak." Levi deserved this moment. Merited the time to express his feelings and all that Ozzy had put him through; he owed him that much.
Swallowing thickly, his eyes shut as he allows Levi's voice to fill the room, each word reverberating off his soul.
When the space falls into silence, Ozzy allows the others' questions to sink in. He could lie... Twist the truth, but where would that get either of them? Nowhere.
"I did it because I was jealous. I was pissed... I felt betrayed." His voice is gruff, laced with factuality and regret. "That's what love was in the DeGomez home. Fighting. Hitting." His mother and father had been on the receiving end of envious affairs that ended in bloodshed.
"I wanted you to fucking fight for me; to need me the way I needed you. You had been-" He pauses, a rough hand rubbing across his tormented features. "-everything to me... And I felt like you let it all slip away." Of course, Ozzy was aware that he, too, was to blame. But he'd been ashamed... humiliated.
"I haven't overcome shit, Levi... and you know it." He was still damaging, forceful. Afraid.
"But you have. Don't let this bullshit with me hold you back. Maybe the fucking timing was off. Or it wasn't meant to be in this life, but you've found someone... and it would be a fucking tragedy if you didn't try."
Her day is actually winding down. Tank is napping on a pillow under her desk as she types away some final notes. A gasp, a small yelp from the sleeping dog, and a stunned Lydia turn to her door. The front desk gal comes in soon after, apologizing only to be quieted by a gentle hand from Lydia. Her focus is on Ozzy, what he's saying, what he's stating. "It's okay, Liza, thank you. If you need to go I'll lock up." She reassures the younger girl, quietly closing the door behind her.
"I haven't heard anything." She states simply, turning back on her fairy lights in the dim room, tongue clicks as a quiet command for Tank to sit by the client chair. "Please, sit." She gestures to the couch, finally turning her diffuser back on and getting comfy in her own chair. "I have a lot of things I could say, but I need to know what's relevant. What's going on?"
"That's what the fuck I'm saying, Doc," his tone taunting, words a spastic rush. "I ain't trying to talk about what the hell is going on." A hand lifts, brushing back damp hair. Glassy emeralds flicker between her and the dog, both now seated. "Nah, I don't want to." Ozzy nods to the chair, continuing his swift back and forth, heavy boots dragging across the ground beneath him. "Damn, it's hot in here, you hot?" Shrugging out of his leather, he tosses the jacket into a chair, shaking out his arms and hands, revealing battered flesh. Black and purple coat his knuckles, slight gashes tracing the length of his arms.
"Tell me whatever, man. What do you do for fun? Are you a vanilla or chocolate person? I don't fucking care. Just talk."
Ozzy burst into the office without knocking. Every inch of him glistened with sweat and the stench of alcohol. "Guessing you fucking hear, yeah?" About everything. From the bombing to the text to Levi. "I ain't here to talk about that shit." He paced wildly from one side of the space to the other.
"So just fucking talk. Say whatever, you got me?"
when she opens the door, her expression is flat, hollow. her skin has the pallor of someone who hasnβt slept. the smell of cigarettes clings to her, mixed with the sharp bite of vodka.
and when her eyes find his, her stomach drops so hard she nearly folds. she thinks she might vomit right there in the doorway. he wouldnβt be here if levi werenβt dead. and levi was dead. levi. was. dead. the words looped in her head like static, unreal, refusing to sink into her bones.
she doesnβt say anything. just steps aside, lets him in without ceremony, moving like a puppet on strings.
the apartment behind her is wreckage. the bar cart toppled sideways, its contents spilled across the tile β glass shards still scattered, bottles drained or broken where they fell. sheets and towels cover every mirror in sight, draped haphazardly like shrouds. the air is heavy with the stale tang of liquor and smoke. she doesnβt register how it must look, doesnβt care. doesnβt even acknowledge it as she closes the door and follows him deeper into the room.
her voice cuts the silence sharp, direct, and steadier than it has any right to be. no tremor, no buildup, no attempt at grace. just a demand. straight to the point. she needs answers from him, and she needs them now. βwhen was the last time you saw him?β
Emptiness haunted bloodshot hues, the ghost of tears staining their faces. Their pale, battered complexions. Blonde waves are a tangled disaster, mapping her sharp features. Onyx strands are an oily mess, clinging to his sweaty skin.
They were reflections of each other's suffering.
He didn't bother to shake his stare away from her. He didn't need to see the room or the havoc she'd caused. He'd done the same. Forcing his fury into an outlet that had rewarded him with less than five minutes of satisfaction.
Ozzy doesn't move. Doesn't drop his bag. Instead, his jaw clenches, chest tightening as chapped lips part:
"That night... the same fucking night."
levi pauses. staring at the cigarette oz offered to him. he had offered it to him so many years ago and this habit always seems to come up whenever he was around oz. he lets the cigarette rest between his fingers. taking a long drag from it. and blowing the cigarette smoke out beneath his breath. his back is rigid against the door as he feels oz cupping his face. levi cradles the cigarette in his fingers as his exhausted hues reach ozβs. he was so tired of fighting with him. it showed in leviβs eyes. βyou should have told me about my ex.β he says coldly, his eyes closed and ignoring the closeness between them both. he could feel ozβs fingers in his beard that he meant to shave earlier. but life really was just throwing curveballs at him right now. βyou knew my upbringing.β another blow towards oz. just as cold as before. βyou knew how many people died in my life prior. and you still did that?β he grabs ozβs wrist. placing the cigarette in between ozβs fingers. he swallows deeply. but his other hand moves gently to ozβs waist. no force, nothing. his hands wanted something else. someone else. he lets his eyes rest shut again. βi have someone at home, irina.β a cold and low blow as if that would do anything at this point. but he did want to make her name known to him. βi really do want you to get better. with someone else. i wasnβt able to save you. give you the life you deserve. i just made everything worse.β which was usual for levi. he typically made things worse for everyone else. he was used to it at this point. βiβ¦β¦β¦β¦.β he lets that single word linger. βreally do love you.βΒ
The air around them was clouded with pain, unspoken agony, and cigarette smoke. Ozzy refused to close his eyes, watching every shift of Levi's being. What was going through that complex mind? Was it the hate he must feel for the horrors Ozzy subjected him to? Could he blame him if he did? If he never wanted to see his face ever again?
"It was never meant to hurt you... Not at first." His jaw tightens, head finally twisting to look away. "I was jealous... pissed that you were moving on, when I couldn't." He'd waited. Waited for so fucking long. "And when I saw him leaving? I couldn't... I couldn't stop myself from wanting to make him suffer. To force him to feel the agony he was putting me through." His throat becomes dry, his head pounding from the pressure of his clamped teeth. "I was only going to rough him up... send a message... B-But once I started..." He couldn't stop.
His lids flicker shut, his hand falling to the side as slow ribbons of smoke flutter from the burning cig.
Irina. Instantly, Ozzy knew who he was speaking of, and he made him happy. Levi deserved her. Deserved to move on and be truly fucking happy. "I do too, Grayson." It was all out in the open now. Claiming their new lovers, perhaps they were finally setting each other free.
A ripple of anger bolts along his spine, his body stepping away from the male. "What the fuck did you just say?!" Fury coats his words, burning emerald orbs. "Save me? You think you didn't save me?! Levi, I would have died without you!" He remembered their first kiss. The moment that truly changed his life. "You stopped me from ending it all! I've always fucking loved you. Always."
Vincent sat quiet in his home, processing the news. Levi was dead. Fucking hell, Levi was dead. Before he could even let that thought fully sink in his phone buzzed with two messages. He looked to the name, let out a deep sigh, and then his mind flashed to Cassius for a second. Without a second thought the guy repliedβ¦
Ozzy: great.
Ozzy: let them know I ain't doing this shit for the cash, got it?
Ozzy: yeah, that would be cool.
Was this a laughable conception? Yeah, and he knew Grayson wouldn't approve. But he needed this. Needed all the internal pain to annihilate and become endless physical.
location: irina's apartment
status: closed for @ozzyxdegomez
she stayed on the floor of her apartment for a period of time she couldn't measure. certainly hours. the vodka bottle sat beside her, slowly draining as dawn turned to dusk and moonlight swallowed the city. her head felt thick, her body far away, like she was floating in a fog and occasionally slamming into the walls of it.
eventually, she pulled herself upright just enough to reach her phone. the screen burned her eyes when it lit up, dozens of missed calls and unread messages stacked. she didn't open them. didn't want to see their words. their condolences, questions, pity.
instead, she scrolled until she landed ona name. his name. ozzy.
her fingers hovered, frozen for a moment. the last time they spoke, it had been a warning β his people were after her. he hadnβt needed to send it, but he did. and she appreciated that, even if she never said so. but it was complicated. everything with him was complicated. she thought of leviβs voice, raw and tired, telling her the truth about ozzy.
her thumb tapped out a short message anyway.
irina: can we talk
she hit send before she could talk herself out of it.
Ozzy sat frozen as though he'd been fossilized. Wrapped in stone by the vicious gaze of Medusa. Every inch of his body acts as if he'd been attacked, torn to shreds and stitched back together with rusted needles and jagged staples. Is this what losing someone you love... loved, felt like? If so, Oz would prefer getting blown to hell a million times over... How was he supposed to move on? To find happiness in a world that lacked the first person to ever bring him a sense of peace?
He stares at the message until his gaze blurs, dry and destroyed from endless hours of heated streams. Her name used to make him smile. Not only was it a transaction, but he actually enjoyed the female... and now? Now their connection ran deeper than any of the drugs that coated their veins. They were suddenly the broken half that the other would never get back.
ozzy: on my way.
Gathering his things, he makes sure to pack a full bottle of poison, drugs to last them a lifetime, and heads straight to her place. This needed to happen. No matter what was shared. What was shared. They both needed this.
In a matter of minutes, he stands outside her apartment, ravaged knuckles tapping the door.
βi donβt have anything to say to you.β levi says flatly, arms still crossed over his chest, keeping himself guarded here. his gaze glances to the pack of newport, half empty as they heard an argument from a couple in a room nearby. wondering if this conversation was going to end up like that. a door slam, just like what he did, except he could hear the feet moving to a car and the engine turns on and steers off. the sound of crying in the room next door. his midnight blues stare at oz as he chooses to give him the silent treatment right now. he is building his walls back up. brick by brick and he knows he meant what he said in that hospital room. he would end ozβs life if he ever did anything like that to any of graysonβs future lovers, or past ones. his words were vindictive and hurtful. but oz was still deeply someone that he loved, his blue orbs stare at ozβs. you could tell his jaw tenses as he feels himself sinking into the door, like it was his protection from oz. like the door was keeping him afloat even though really it was just pieces of wood, used to stabilize other parts of a building. from all this fucking madness in his life right now. he hopes that oz actually listens to his words and gets better. cleans up his act. but thatβs only for him to decide. βi don't think i was put on this earth to love someone properly," he says, letting his thick brows knit together. he reaches out to ozβs hand, letting his fingers slowly interlock with his. feeling the warmth of his hand but at the same time it almost feels like lava. something forbidden, that he doesnβt have the right to hold anymore. he lets his gaze drop down, and lets his eyes rest shut. levi was justβ¦ exhausted, and it showed in his eyes.
"I don't believe that... And I don't think you do either." Another cigarette is lit, rising to his lips for a deep, healthy draw. Ozzy could tell they were both struggling with the sight of the other. After all, their conversation at the hospital had been hostile, earthshattering, and not just to them, but for Grayson as well, and his chest tightened simply at the thought of all he'd been putting the kid through. Stepping forward, he removes the cig, offering it up to the other. The sounds of the motel encapsulated them from the world. A fighting couple. The blare of televisions, the continuous drip of the sink. In the silence, everything felt harsher. Louder.
"You know I never meant to fucking hurt you... even with all I did... to you.. and after." They were past going into detail. "Hurting you was the last damn thing I ever wanted." Rough digits thread, and there's an indiscernible pang in his chest. As if every last time they'd been together was leading up to this. To this conversation.
"What? What the hell are you talking about?" His tormented throat rasps, his free palm lifting to cup his face. "Stop that shit right now, Levi. That's fucking bullshit and you know it!" Didn't he know what he'd done for him? How, because of his love, it had rescued him. Kept him from falling into death.
"You have no goddamn idea of what you and your love are capable of."
SOLO: Ozzy DeGomez
Location: His apartment.
Setting: After receiving the devastating news of Levi's passing.
Unfortunately, the person you are trying to reach, 'Levi Hirsch' is unavailable.
Unfortunately, the person you are trying to reach, 'Levi Hirsch' is unavailable.
Unfortunately, the person you are trying to reach, 'Levi Hirsch' is unavailable.
Unfortunately, the person you are trying to reach, 'Levi Hirsch' is unavailable.
Unfortunately, the person you are trying to reach, 'Levi Hirsch' is unavailable.
Unfortunately, the person you are trying to reach, 'Levi Hirsch' is unavailable.
Unfortunately, the person you are trying to reach, 'Levi Hirsch' is unavailable.
Unfortunately, the person you are trying to reach, 'Levi Hirsch' is unavailable.
"Answer the phone... answer the fucking phone! Answer it, you piece of shit!" Please.
The room reeked of burnt spoons and Tequila. Ozzy sat hunched into his divan, eyes glazed with heated agony. Streams of uncontrollable crystals stained his cheeks, his trembling thumb hitting redial over, and over, and over again, until Levi's voice was embedded into the catacombs of his mind.
"Don't you fucking do this to me⦠Don't leave me when we've finally-" His words slurred, his chest heaving as if the entire consequence of the world was pulverizing his reality. His device clatters to the ground, digits slipping into onyx locks, cruelly tearing at his hair. Ozzy's dominant hand releases his coils, only to slam his palm maliciously against his face multiple times.
"GOD!" The resounding exclamation viciously crashed along the walls, vibrating the floorboards beneath his feet. It was a blasphemous hymn. A cursing of the depravity and wrathful ways of a deity who'd never illustrated compassion or grace. Was this vindication? Retaliation for what he'd done to Levi? He'd caused him torment and suffering, and it was finally Oscar's turn to be haunted by his first love endlessly.
"I FUCKING DESPISE YOU! I HATE YOU! You're fucking useless and selfish! And-" An arm extends, sweeping the contents of the table, colliding with the foundation. Their mighty Lord and Saviour had never done a damn thing for him. As a child, he allowed Oz to suffer. To be nothing more than a punching bag for an unloving father. And now? When he was ultimately finding happiness. Closure. He stole something unreplaceable to him.
How was Ozzy expected to love Grayson properly? The way he deserved? When the one person he'd ever tried to love was now lying lifeless in a freezer? How could he move forward if this was the fate that awaited Gray? The kid didn't merit the devotion of a shattered being incapable of giving him all he was worthy of.
Releasing a guttural scream, Ozzy jumped from his spot, fingers balling into tight fists as he stormed towards the brink wall, mapping his blacked out windows.
White knuckled fists collide with stone with all his might. Once, twice, again, and again, until his flesh is shredded, pools of rubies flowing down his forearms.
His stomach kinks in disgust and misery as he stumbled, legs carrying him to the bottle on the sofa, snatching up his cellphone as he blundered his way to the bathroom, slamming to the tiled floor. The bottle clatters, his bloody hands reaching for the toilet seat to pull himself up. Acidic vile projected into the bowl like an endless rivulet of heartache.
After what felt like hours of continuous torture, his head slips to the floor, sweat beading his features, melting into the everlasting tears he was incapable of containing.
The bottle finds his lips once again, the sting of alcohol inflaming his destroyed throat.
Reaching for his cell, it takes him several times to flick through his contacts until he's found his target.
Ring, Ring, Ring. The moment the call connected, a violent sob escaped as he croaked, "I need you, Gray."
