Fic update
DON'T DIE WITHOUT TELLING ME WHERE YOU'RE GOING
CHAPTER THREE
Maes was hugging him, tight, whispering words of comfort in his ears, and Roy wanted to hug his friend back, but his arms hung limply to his side, and try as he might, he felt nothing but boredom. Maes hands started traveling up and down his back, the caress turning more and more tender, and his breath, warm brushing his neck, started to hitch a bit. Roy’s head tilted to the side, trying to find anything in his surroundings to catch his attention.
It was his own living room, he realized. Both of them were crouching on the floor, on which Roy could see portions of a blood-stained transmutation circle. He remembered then, that it was the reason his friend was clinging to him so desperately. He had used that circle to bring him back and, apparently, he had succeeded. He figured he should feel glad. Maes was back and, by the soft, delicious kisses he started trailing down Roy’s throat, his best friend had missed him just as he had. But Roy found nothing more that physical satisfaction when Maes hands found their way under his shirt, when he was ceremoniously rested on his back, and his friend started attacking his skin with his tongue.
Roy just noticed the sensations with curious detachment, and did nothing to return the gesture. It could be anyone fucking him, for all he cared. He could have gotten that from anyone. Why had he bothered bringing Hughes back, with the risks it entailed? And with that thought was that he noticed, he had both his arms, both his legs, his remaining eye. He was in no particular pain and his gut felt fine. He was not missing any essential parts, but there had been blood on the transmutation circle. His blood, of that he was sure. What had he given in exchange for his friend?
Maes held him close, mumbling incoherently with rapture. ’I love you,’ he whispered. ’I’ve always loved you.’ But Roy felt nothing. He actually realized, as his friend heartbeat became erratic and frantic with release, that he could not hear his own. His chest was empty, a void of nothingness, and he realized he was not moving, not out of disinterest, but because he couldn’t. The blood in his veins had started to crust, his limbs went from limpness to rigidity, and Roy knew what he’d given.
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The disorientation and the panic that seized him upon waking was not new to him. Once his panting had subdued a bit, Roy rolled over to his side and resigned himself to yet another sleepless night. It soon became obvious, however, that he wasn’t just feeling disoriented because of a nightmare, he actually did not know where he was. His good eye blinked, trying to focus on the darkness of the strange room. Even the air smelled different, yet… there was a lingering smell, something mild and musky, that eased him back into comfort instinctively. The sheets smelled familiar, they smelled like the dream he’d been having before it twisted into hell.
Roy hadn’t woke up at home for the last two years, maybe even longer, if ever. The fact that the memory of where he was eluded him stopped worrying him as soon as he felt safe again. He was warm where he was, and just the tiny bit of skin from his face that was not covered by the comforter let him know getting up was not something he would look forward to. But his mouth felt dry and he felt as if all the liquid from his body had gathered in his bladder, that threatened to start hurting unless he relieved it soon.
Groaning, he placed his bare feet on the wooden floor. They weren’t tiles, but to him the planks felt just as cold. The pyjama bottoms were too long for him, and so where the sleeves, he noticed curiously, so he had to manoeuvre himself carefully into a perfect balance that would allow him to step on the legs and protect his feet without loosing the pants entirely. There was also the matter of not knowing his way around and having no clue of where the light switch was. Roy curled his toes as a reflex, in case he ran into something.
Finding the door was easy, the room was apparently no bigger than a cupboard. Upon crossing the threshold, the memories of that night started to come back and Roy found himself a little out of breath. Finding the bathroom suddenly became the least of his worries. Had it all been a dream? Again, he doubted his own consciousness and stood frozen in place. The strange room, the oversized garments, the smell in the air; if he was awake, then that meant…
Forgetting about endangered toes and barely secured pyjama bottoms, he rushed to where the couch had been. There was just a bit of light coming from the window, a luxury the bedroom had lacked, so it wasn’t pitch black. The figure sleeping on said couch, shivering from the cold and still clad in his uniform, left no room for interpretation.
Roy knelt next to him, studying the other man intently. He’d fallen asleep with his glasses on, the dimwit. Carefully, tenderly, Roy pulled them off his face. What had this man thought when choosing that particular frame? If the concept of a duplicate of Hughes was difficult enough to grasp, the idea that this man would be synchronized to the other’s tastes to the point of choosing the same frames for his glasses left Roy numbed and dazzled. He was different, Roy had witnessed hundreds of subtle differences in their short acquaintance. The similarities where much deeper, though. It was in his smile, as timid as it had been; in his fright, in his gaze, some gestures. Somehow, this was just as much his Hughes as the real one had been.
Roy traced his fingers gingerly over the man’s hairline. They even had the same haircut. It couldn’t be a coincidence. But a lot had changed, even for Roy himself, and he wondered what would happen now. Two years of missing him, of having him as main character of his nightmares, of letting his memory eat away at Roy’s soul, and now he had him back. He knew he had been more than a little non-responsive earlier, he knew that, in spite his first reaction, he was taking it too calmly. So was Hughes, though. For what he’d told him, he was also supposed to be dead in this world, yet he‘d welcomed him into his home without questioning. What would they do in the morning? Have breakfast and compare realities?
Hughes shivered again and turned to his side, mumbling something incoherent. Roy’s hand remained suspended in the air, ready to resume the caress as soon as he was sure the other man wouldn’t wake. One greenish eye opened groggily, though, and Roy pulled his hand behind his back as fast as he could. Hughes stared at him, eyes unfocussed, before sitting bolt upright. Roy could almost see his heart rush its way up to his throat.
“Jesus, Roy!” He panted, never taking his eyes of him and pale as if he’d just seen a ghost. Hah. “You want to scare me into an early grave?”
Roy knew it was a rhetorical question, but he winced nonetheless, shaking his head.
“No, sorry.” Would his voice ever go back to normal? “I… can’t find the bathroom.”
Maes relaxed visibly and chuckled a bit. He stood up with some effort, using Roy’s arm for support, then ruffled Roy’s hair instinctively, as if they’d known each other forever, as if… Roy just stared dumbly after him.
“It’s outside, at the end of the hall. No private bathroom for this public servant!” he chanted merrily, heading to the front door. Roy stood up slowly and walked up to him. Maes opened the door and Roy stopped at the threshold, looking in both direction. Maes placed a hand on the small of his back and whispered kindly, “To your left.”
Roy had to try very hard for his breath not to hitch at the shiver that ran down his spine. Maybe he needed the bathroom more than he’d realised.
When he came back, feeling decisively more comfortable, Hughes was nowhere to be found. He poked his head in the kitchen; nothing. He walked to the bedroom and stopped dead in his tracks. Maes was there, sitting on the bed, pulling the covers over his legs.
“Should… should I take the couch now?” Were they taking turns?
Maes chuckled and shook his head no, patting the space next to him.
“We’ll have to share, I’m afraid. I have to work in the morning and I can’t afford a sore neck or a cold. It’ll be a tight fit. Come on.”
It was phrased in such a way- not even a question, really- that Roy could not feel uncomfortable even when he knew he should, at the back of his mind. It was a good thing, too; whatever would happen in the morning, he had Hughes back. Whatever misconceptions or alterations their relationship had suffered in his mind in the last two years, it seemed Maes was still his best friend, and he better start remembering that. He climbed on the bed and settled in with his back to Hughes, just in case. The man turned off the bedside lamp, lay down himself and snuggled closer, sighing contently.
Roy smiled genuinely for the first time in forever, not even caring about the tightness in his chest at the contact. Trust Hughes to be so self-conscious-less.
His eyes drifted close, figuring the company would keep his nightmares at bay, hoping beyond hope the closeness would not elicit the other, less nightmarish yet equally disturbing dreams.
TBC