Fic
Hallidae told me about a doujin she'd read whose ending really disappointed her. Thus, the following fic is entirely her fault.
Title: On the Fourth Day
Mild Ed/Havoc and implied character death.
No real spoilers.
I don't own FMA and make no profit from this.
The milk went sour three days ago. And the last of the edible food vanished yesterday. He doesn't leave though, curling up in the cold bed with torn red cloth. It should still smell like him, but it doesn't. It still smells like oil and metal and sweat, but it's flatter somehow. Spent and stale. He buries his face in the cloth anyway. He wants to wake up and find a warm body next to him, but even his nightmares have never been this cruel.
He doesn't even notice that there's someone else in the room until a hand catches his arm and rolls him over. He can only stare for a moment, thinking he must be dreaming. Praying he's just woken up. The skin is too pale though, the gold hair carrying some dark sheen he can’t name. Jean shudders as knowing purple eyes meet his, but the hand that cups his cheek is warm and almost gentle. And he shivers helplessly as he leans into its touch. He almost doesn't realize when the creature that was Edward starts to speak and it takes a full minute for the words to sink in. I just came back for what's mine, so get dressed. We're leaving.
It feels like something inside him is broken, ragged edges grinding together with each breath, but the hand is on his shoulder now and urging him up. He wants to say something. Anything, but the words tangle on his tongue. He opens his mouth, then its lips are covering his and he's clutching helplessly at the shoulders of the dark jacket it's wearing as he shakes and pours out everything that has lain numb the past four days.
It doesn't say anything else, but it kisses him again and brushes at his tears with the tips of callused fingers, raising salty drops to its lips. This time, when it wraps an arm around his waist, he lets it lead him away.
Title: On the Fourth Day
Mild Ed/Havoc and implied character death.
No real spoilers.
I don't own FMA and make no profit from this.
The milk went sour three days ago. And the last of the edible food vanished yesterday. He doesn't leave though, curling up in the cold bed with torn red cloth. It should still smell like him, but it doesn't. It still smells like oil and metal and sweat, but it's flatter somehow. Spent and stale. He buries his face in the cloth anyway. He wants to wake up and find a warm body next to him, but even his nightmares have never been this cruel.
He doesn't even notice that there's someone else in the room until a hand catches his arm and rolls him over. He can only stare for a moment, thinking he must be dreaming. Praying he's just woken up. The skin is too pale though, the gold hair carrying some dark sheen he can’t name. Jean shudders as knowing purple eyes meet his, but the hand that cups his cheek is warm and almost gentle. And he shivers helplessly as he leans into its touch. He almost doesn't realize when the creature that was Edward starts to speak and it takes a full minute for the words to sink in. I just came back for what's mine, so get dressed. We're leaving.
It feels like something inside him is broken, ragged edges grinding together with each breath, but the hand is on his shoulder now and urging him up. He wants to say something. Anything, but the words tangle on his tongue. He opens his mouth, then its lips are covering his and he's clutching helplessly at the shoulders of the dark jacket it's wearing as he shakes and pours out everything that has lain numb the past four days.
It doesn't say anything else, but it kisses him again and brushes at his tears with the tips of callused fingers, raising salty drops to its lips. This time, when it wraps an arm around his waist, he lets it lead him away.