Oscar entered through the wooden door at the back of the casino. In fact, the casino had opened a few days ago, but Victor had not wanted him to start work. He had not told Oscar the reason, but Oscar had returned to work after resting for three days. Despite the cold weather outside, he felt warm inside, especially his hands were burning, which was surprising considering his skin was always cold. He had wanted to return here for a long time, but a voice inside him kept screaming at him to run away. He felt like all eyes inside would be on him.
He changed his clothes, the dark red shirt the attendants wore still fit him perfectly. When he entered the customers' area, the atmosphere of the casino welcomed him. Pheromones mixed with the smells of alcohol, laughter and rebellion, the smoke of designer cigarettes... He was used to the sound of dice hitting each other. Even the familiar faces he saw around him made him feel uneasy, but he calmed down by prioritizing the money he would earn.
His steps were slow and confident. It was impossible not to notice the few whispers circulating around. "See how shamelessly he came!", "Did he really report it? How-" The whispers continued and stopped when Oscar turned his head and looked. Oscar clenched his fists. If he started a fight now, he would be accused even though he was innocent.
"You're finally here," Sean said from behind. When Oscar looked at him, he smiled. "Are you fine?"
"I'm fine," Oscar confirmed. Sean's smile slowly faded as he spoke.
"Ezra is waiting for you. Oscar, I know you're innocent, but all the clues point to you. But please, don't lose your cool." It seemed like a friendly warning. Oscar took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened his eyes again, he looked at Sean's face.
"I'll do that, thanks," he said and headed for Ezra's room. He hated coming here, but he knocked on the door. When he heard a voice from inside say, "Come in!" he opened the door and went inside, closing the door behind him. Ezra looked at Oscar with one eyebrow raised.
"You're finally here. Are you feeling better?" His voice sounded a little sarcastic and condescending, and Oscar squeezed his hands behind his back.
"I'm fine, Sir."
"Of course you're fine," Ezra mumbled, but Oscar preferred to pretend he hadn't heard. "Oscar, be honest-"
"I told you, I wasn't the one who reported it to the police." Oscar said firmly. "Whitmore knows that too." Oscar enjoyed the look of surprise on Ezra's face for a moment.
"Wait, did Mr. Whitmore talk to you?" He added "Mr." to the beginning of his last name, as if he were warning Oscar to speak respectfully.
"You could say that." Ezra looked away for a moment, then looked back at Oscar, collected.
"You're still our suspect, though. You were the last person to enter the room, the last person who could have seen the body in the room. How do I know you didn't pose as a customer in the next room and blame it on the cleaning crew?" Oscar looked at the man in disbelief, who would call the police with such a ridiculous cover-up?
"How can you trust the cleaning crew workers like that?" Oscar asked, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. Of course, he could guess the answer a little. Ezra was easily effected by anyone, especially omegas who satisfied his alpha pride. There was probably someone like that on the cleaning crew. Ezra blushed angrily -and a little embarrassedly-.
"How can I trust someone who once reported his own uncle to the police?" His voice was quite loud. Oscar just swallowed quietly, his past haunting him even in his professional life. Ezra felt a moment of regret, but he concealed it and tried to keep his voice high. "That's enough, Oscar. You're lucky I still let you work here, because you won't find anywhere else that pays as much. Now, return to your post."
"Understood, Sir." Oscar said coldly and left the room. The door slammed as he left, making Ezra jump slightly. He swallowed and turned his head.
When Oscar left Ezra's room, the anger still hadn't left his body. But he clenched his teeth to keep from answering, and he finally realized it when his jaw ached. The door that opened to the main hall of the casino seemed a little bleaker than usual. Ezra's words about his uncle still echoed in his mind.
The double doors were open, and he entered. Even the light inside hurt his eyes at that moment. His only motivation for staying here was to make money. Yes, to pay off his debts, and more… There was no more. Maybe he could just have a little peace of mind? Oscar tried to think of it, because he no longer had the strength to silence the laughter and the sounds of dice that were agonizing to him.
He stood behind the bar until an order came and he could take it away. His hands were shaking, was he having a nervous breakdown? He sighed and began to clean the glasses. His hands were moving patiently: wash, dry, put, take another glass… He continued like this until the bartender called him. Oscar dried his hands, picked up the tray, and moved forward.
When he went to the customer, before he even opened his mouth, the man said with a smile.
"Wow, who are we seeing?" Oscar didn't respond, he was putting the others' drinks on the table. The man got a little more angry. "Are you angry? Are you going to report me to the police with a fake crime?" Oscar tried to hold himself back.
"Enjoy your drink," he said as he placed the glass in front of the man. The glass hit the table a little hard. Even though the man started to snort, Oscar walked away from the table.
Nothing had changed during the break either. It was quiet as he walked through the staff corridor. Even the floor lights that went off every few seconds were now disturbing. Even if he tried to relax by sitting down and leaning his head back, it didn't work. He didn't even want to think about what to do.
But the worst part started after he got back inside.
There were practically a lot of whispers about him. "Wasn't he the one who reported things to the police?" "I had to look elsewhere because of him!" "Mr. Ezra could fire him at any moment, who's behind him..." "I'd never come back here again if I were him." He swallowed hard to keep from responding harshly to all the whispers. His hands were trembling as he held the tray, waiting by the bar counter.
His head ached, the smell of cigarettes and pheromones in the air was now making him feel sick. His vision was starting to darken. His hands couldn't carry the weight of the glass on the tray for a moment, and when the tray leaned forward, the glass on top of it fell. The laughter around him stopped for a moment, and the sharp sound of the glass echoed through the casino.
Oscar swallowed and bent down to pick up the pieces on the ground, the moment his knee touched the ground a feeling of helplessness overwhelmed his body. The customers had returned to the games, but Oscar felt as if he were being squeezed from all sides. He became absent-minded as he collected the sharp pieces in his palm without caring.
"Oscar, put those pieces down." Oscar reflexively clenched his palm when he heard Sean's voice and the pieces stabbed into his hand, he finally came to realty. When Sean saw this he frowned and grabbed Oscar by the arm, lifted him up. Before he could say anything, he quickly picked up the broken pieces in his hand and threw them in the trash. He instructed one of the other staff nearby to sweep up the remaining pieces on the ground. "Come with me," he said, grabbing Oscar's arm again and pulling him out of the main hall of the casino.
When they entered a small, dimly lit room, Sean looked at Oscar. He motioned for him to sit down, and Oscar sat down silently. Sean approached him and lifted his hand.
"Does it hurt? If there's a piece of glass in your hand, let's get it out." Oscar shook his head. Still, Sean examined his hand until he was sure. Finally, he bandaged Oscar's hand with a small intervention.
"Thank you," Oscar said in a low voice, looking at his bandaged hand.
"It's not even worth mentioning." Sean looked into Oscar's eyes and said. "If you feel bad, you should tell me." Oscar nodded slowly, as if to show that he understood. Feeling bad? He had no right to. Just like he never had.
When his shift ended and he exited the employee entrance, he saw a car. And Victor, leaning against it, waiting. Oscar paused, tilted his head with a hint of curiosity and suspicion.
"Whitmore?" His voice was low; he might not have heard it himself.
"Kane." Unlike him, Victor knew what he was saying—and what he wanted. "Come here."
Oscar would have argued with him about the way he spoke, but he didn't feel well enough to do so today. He walked a little slowly. He felt like he had walked too far and gotten nowhere.
No, he had. Victor was only a few steps ahead of him. He knew what he was doing, especially when he put his hand on the back of Oscar's head and leaned his forehead against his chest. There was no need to talk any further, Oscar took a shaky breath for a moment. Why was he letting a few stupid rumors affect him? Victor had already warned Ezra, but Ezra was protecting someone else by ignoring Victor's words.
He didn't care. There was still a part of him that wanted to live. In fact, that part had just formed a moment ago, when his forehead touched Victor's chest. As the rhythmic and slow heartbeat of the man in front of him filled his ears, he began to want his own heart to beat as well.