"He has moments where he is terrified I am going to shun him, or insult him, or worst of all leave him for someone who is—in his words—‘whole.’ When we first became involved, I expected him to be…reserved, careful. To not want to let me see…"
"And I didn’t want to let you see," Edward says quietly. "If I remember right, I asked if we could just do it with our clothes on…"
"I’ve thought about it," he says, ashamed that he hasn’t. "And I would, if not for the fact that Hughes was the only one who knew. It was something dark and unspoken between us. He implied the memories with his eyes, whenever he was angry at me; whenever he saw me in despair. A warning not to ever consider human transmutation again.
"I don’t believe that Maes would have wanted Edward to know. He was paternalistic with Edward, to an illogical degree. He was always reticent to discuss me and my…issues with him, simply because my past deeds were far too horrible to reveal to him. And I agree. He would have been overwhelmed, at that age.
"Now…now I’ll consider it. Hughes is long dead and Edward deserves to know that he is not the only one who thought he could bring back the dead."
((In case you guys weren’t aware…. I’m back :D Or should I say we? also, side note! I’m always in need of icons, so if you have any recommendations (generally I used doujinshi/shamballa icons) then please let me know!))
Edward shrugs, avoiding the question. “It’s not like I haven’t done the same…”
He doesn’t want to talk about it. Not about waking up in the middle of the night with Roy’s hand around his throat, Roy’s hand tight in his hair and jerking his head back painfully. Not about the fierce and horrifying accusations that he’s Envy in disguise, taking the form of the person who is most precious of all to General Mustang.
He doesn’t want to talk about trying to be calm when his lover is screaming in his face, when those gloved fingers are poised to snap, when he can smell the transmutation beginning to simmer in the air. Or how the only thing that can make Roy snap out of it is if he hits him hard enough. Blood in his automail knuckles.
But what else could he do? Roy wanted to burn him alive. Would have done it.
They’re both sobbing wrecks at the end of each nightmarish episode, so it’s stupid to think of himself as the only victim. All they can do is hold each other and find ways to circumvent the danger. Lock up Roy’s gloves in places he can’t find them, take sleeping pills, promise that the morning will come soon enough.
((Thank you dear! <3))
The bedroom is ominously dark when he enters, the heavy drapes pulled across the windows to keep out a sunny afternoon. Edward received word earlier that General Mustang wasn’t feeling well, but bad enough to cripple him and send him whimpering home like an injured dog? His suspicions are confirmed when he sees the man lying on the bed, mostly motionless.
His first instinct is to call out to him, subconsciously disappointed that the man won’t feel like talking, or touching him, or any of the other things they do after a hard day at work. He gives a little sigh before removing his own shoes. Taking off his jacket. Then the waistcoat.
“I tell them to look me in the eyes real hard and tell me what they see. There are a lot of things I’m too young to be doing, but I’ve done them all and then some. I’ve killed men, seen murder, been hurt, lost limbs, chained myself to the state. Roy is one of the few people who understands how dark the world is, and that comforts me, even if he’s acted as that darkness himself.
“All things considered, I think a relationship with a man that I love, a man who loves me just as much, is the last thing you should try to ‘save’ me from. I’m not a child and we’ve both committed enough taboos between us that this is mind-bogglingly inconsequential.”