Rating: R-ish maybe
Disclaimer: Don't own FMA or the characters
Prompt: 100moods #83 Sad
Author's Note: This is the promised second part to Gone. There may be one more part. I've not decided, yet.
”Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Ed murmured the words, a horrified mantra, kneeling and holding and not caring about the blood on the floor that seeped into his slacks, that his hands were stained crimson as he ran his fingers, trembling, through her hair.
She did not speak, but she smiled, a peaceful sort of thing that made his stomach twist.
“Why? Why would you…” he wasn’t allowed to finish, fingers pressing weakly to his lips.
“So you can go home. You love him,” she whispered the words, so faint he had to lean closer to catch them as they rolled off her tongue.
“I love you,” he retorted, mustering all the feeling he could in desperation. He couldn’t leave her with the whole truth.
“I know, Ed. You need him, though, and…it’s okay,” her words were broken and choking, fighting to get out before it was too late.
“We’ve got to get you to a hospital,” Ed cried into her hair.
“It’s too late for that. Go home.”
“I can’t. I have to help you,” he argued, surveying the damage in earnest for the first time, desperate to find some sort of hope, but the more he looked, the more he realized there was nothing for it. If only he had alchemy, maybe, but there was nothing now that he could do.
“You can’t help me. You have to go or all this will be for nothing,” she insisted, tugging ever so slightly at him until his lips were pressed to hers.
They tasted of copper, but he wouldn’t remember that part. All he’d remember was the warmth there even now, the way she molded to him, fingers strung through his hair, trying to comfort him though she was the one losing everything.
There had been someone once, someone uncomplicated and warm, with lips that felt like petals, the color of fresh strawberries, and stormy eyes that caught him at every turn. He’d been loved once before, wholeheartedly, fierce and intoxicating in the words and the silences, the touches and empty spaces. He hadn’t been able to save them from their own sacrifice, giving all they had to grant his deepest wishes.
It still hurt, even now, and he could not help but remember the pain as he sat on the rooftop, shingles rigid beneath his thighs, feet hanging dangerously over the edge. He could see Roy’s office from here, longed to be closer, to speak the truth, to hold on and never let go.
She’d sent him home, for Roy, and at first he’d felt he was belittling her sacrifice when he left. In the end, though, wasn’t he just following her example, sacrificing oneself for the good of a loved one?
He wished it could have lasted, wished he could have found another solution, In the end, though, there was nothing for it except to get out of the way. It had been glorious, though, while they had it.
Roy made the best pancakes, ever. End of story. He could have just focused on that, and not the way Roy’s eyes were just a shade darker, still a little sleepy, the way his lips parted slightly as he listened, defenses down for once, in a way Ed had never seen, and they really had to do this more often, just so he could see his once upon a time superior officer look this way. He could have contained himself, tried so very hard, but Roy touched him, fingers brushing against the back of his hand as he grabbed an empty plate, innocent and electric.
He gasped, couldn’t breath, couldn’t think, color rising in his cheeks, heart hammering away at his chest, seeking freedom in the open air beyond it. Roy looked at him in surprise, a little awkwardly perhaps, and he could have just dropped it, let the moment pass, but those lips were parted again, like Roy had forgotten to draw in on himself, and seeing the real, unprotected, human side of him was too much.
He didn’t remember getting up, but Roy hadn’t moved and here he was against him anyway. Roy’s jaw was silken beneath his fingertips, and his lips were soft and firm, with less give than there was when kissing a girl. It was over quickly, and Ed drew back, wishing he could kick his own head in.
An awkward moment passed, and then another, Roy looking at him in utter astonishment, as if he couldn’t even process what had just happened.
“Just forget about that,” Ed managed, unable to meet Roy’s eye any longer, and wondering if his cheeks were as red as they felt.
“Why?” It was the single most ridiculous question Roy could have asked, so ridiculous that it took Ed a second to realize that actually was what he’d said. What did he mean, why?
“Did you seriously just ask me…” he’d never finished asking, clarifying Roy’s utter silliness, because Roy’s lips had found their way back to him, gentle and demanding, and all he could do was submit, lips parting. Roy’s tongue slid between them, usurped every last bit of control he had, and all Ed could do was to feel. He wanted so badly, and arched his back, seeking more contact, reveling in the way Roy felt against him.
They could not continue like this. He could not continue like this, and dragged his lips away from Roy’s, settling instead at his neck, with teeth and tongue, and he could feel Roy’s pulse against his mouth as he nipped at the sensitive skin. Roy’s spine arched beneath his fingers, and that was the end of everything.
He pushed Roy back against the sink, heedless of sharp edges, and Roy didn’t really seem to care. He yanked at the buttons of Roy’s shirt, devouring flesh as it was exposed, unable to get enough.
Ed shivered at the memory, even now, the way Roy’s hands had felt, warm and sure, their bodies on fire with want and need
He sighed and rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm. Roy had shown him, for a little while, that life could be beautiful if you let it. It was windy up here, and the cool breeze ruffled his hair, but he did not notice, eyes glued to a large window, with a sad figure gazing out of it.
It made his heart ache, and his body strained closer, desperate to undo the damage, to just forget the whole mess. Ed noted it was the Fuhrer’s office Roy gazed at the park from, and that, at least, was cause to smile. His sacrifice hadn’t been for nothing.
It hadn’t been a choice, really. At least, it wasn’t a choice in his mind. He did not give himself the option of being selfish, of being happy. He had done the right thing, and could not afford to allow himself to be convinced otherwise, or he was sure he would break. He’d been a fool to allow himself to have it in the first place. He’d already let one person sacrifice everything for him. He would not allow another to do the same.
”You know, I only know one other person who ever comes in here for those,” the girl behind the counter noted as she bagged up the chocolates. She smiled thoughtfully, brown ponytail bobbing merrily as she spoke.
“Oh?” Ed tried to act like he didn’t already know what she was going to say.
“Yeah. Roy used to buy them all the time. Come to think of it, he hasn’t been in here, lately…” She looked skeptically at Ed, who couldn’t keep the distant smile from his lips.
“You must be the one.”
“Huh?” Ed raised an eyebrow, taking hold of the offered package.
“The one he talked about all the time. He’s been coming here for years, and I’ve never heard him talk about anyone, but to be so hung up like that.” She stopped, midsentence, blushing furiously at the shocked look on Ed’s face. She relaxed as his features settled into something more amiable.
“He talked about me?” Ed asked finally, immediately wishing he’d just let the whole thing go.
“Yeah. I mean, I expected a girl, I guess, but…” She stopped, shaking her head apologetically. “I didn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with… I mean, he just wasn’t specific and so I assumed… but I should have known because of the eyes.”
She was blushing worse than he ever did, and Ed couldn’t help it. He laughed.
It had been such a sweet, novel thing to learn, that Roy Mustang loved him so much he couldn’t just keep his damn mouth shut. In hindsight, he knew logically that Roy was a careful person, that he’d never divulge so much as to put things in danger, but if the girl at the candy store could figure it out… then who else.
It wasn’t even that there was anything wrong with what they were doing. There was nothing illegal or unethical about it. The problem was, they weren’t up against one person, or even the entire military. They, or rather Roy, was up against the common man of Amestris, and their lifestyle was not a popular one. He had come back for Roy, because he loved him. He had not come back to risk wrecking Roy’s chances at fulfilling his ambitions, because Roy, Roy could change the world. Ed firmly believed that much.
He’d mulled over the options from that moment on.
”I’ll assume you know the park is closed,” Roy drawled.
Ed resisted the urge to hang on and never let go, settling for wrapping an arm around Roy’s back, curling his fingers comfortably around his lover’s side.
“Where’s your sense of adventure? Besides, everyone else knows the park is closed, so it’s not likely anyone will see us,” Ed’s words felt hollow, and he wondered if his fear for Roy’s wellbeing was a tangible thing.
“What’s the matter if someone sees us?” Roy asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He wanted to clock Roy on the head, thinking for a moment that he simply was unaware of the danger. That was when it hit him. It was not that he didn’t know. It was that he valued Ed above his own ambitions, unwilling to sacrifice this one thing.
“Eh, never mind,” Ed replied. There would be time for the pain later. For now, he just needed to be, to forget everything that wasn’t them and now, standing so close, painted in moonlight, silver and shadowed. He forced the rest away, smiling and standing on his toes to offer his lips up in sacrifice, perhaps in place of what was worse to come.
If only that night could have lasted forever. The trees had sheltered them from the world, and for a while, all was right.
The grass tickled his skin, brushed along his bare sides like tiny fingers. The ground was cool and firm and Roy’s eyes shone in the dark, his skin a pale smear against a starry sky, and the branches above. He held himself up on his hands, devouring Ed’s soul with lips on his neck and hips rocking against him, inside him, a slow, ancient rhythm. He panted and shivered, lips parting in a silent scream, eyes squeezing shut as he memorized the feeling, the sound of Roy murmuring his name, the feel of his lover freezing above him in broken ecstasy.
Some part of him prayed that Roy understood, knew the truth. He rather hoped his lover… former lover, did not. Better that he think badly of Ed, than try to find him, convince him to return. It had been hard enough to say goodbye the first time. He was certain he could not do it again.
“Why are you doing this, Ed?” Roy looked stunned and pained.
“You…” Ed choked on his own words for a moment before continuing. He had to do this, for Roy.
“You deserve someone who loves you… and… I’m just not that person,” he spoke defiantly, his heart screaming in shattered agony, and he fought back tears, fought his mouth that longed to speak the truth. He could not give in, even if he wanted to, desperately.
“You… I thought…” Roy stammered, and it broke Ed’s heart. Roy was never anything but collected, or at least at ease.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, blinking back tears. He could not give, could not let the floodgates shatter now. Failing that, he ran, out the door as quick as he could, letting the door close with a soft clicking sound, and he left, as far from here as he could get. It was only when he was sure Roy hadn’t come after him that he stopped, having found his way back to the park, slumped against the very trees they’d hid beneath one last time.
Only then did he allow himself to feel, to sob his failures to a sky that did not care.
He had left Central then, not trusting himself to stay away from Roy. He’d gone home to Rizembool, but there was no place for him there. He did not feel at ease in the quiet, alone with his thoughts.
It was three months later, when he returned, sure he could deal with this now. He allowed himself to watch, from a distance, as Roy befriended the public, changed offices, began to change the world.
He could have gone back, then. Roy would have wanted him to, but the man he loved was in such a precarious position, and what right did he have to jeopardize that? Roy would always be in the public eye, and there was no place for anything out of the ordinary.
Ed decided, he at least owed Roy an explanation, and he set about giving such, hunched over a table in the library with paper and pen, hoping Roy did not frequent this place often.
It began as a simple description of the events that had led to their demise, shifted to a pitiful, mournful wish that they could be together, full of I miss you and I love you, scrawled across the page. He shook his head as he read, scribbling the words into something unreadable. He could not give reasons without giving the truth, and so he settled finally, and wrote two words.
Roy was back at his desk, and Ed could see his body tense, even from here, picking something up from his desk, turning it over speculatively, pulling paper from the envelope to read those two words.