Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Blurring Edges, Seeing Stars ❯ One-Shot

Hmm…I've heard these called plot bunnies? Little ideas that won't leave you alone. Ok, well, here's one of mine.

 

Unoriginal, uninventive, and bittersweet. Enjoy.

 

-Blurring the Edges-

 

“Woke up this morning with my head so heavy
Thought about leaving on the next train coming
Sometimes it gets so easy running from town to town
But changing beds won't change this feeling
That I'm gonna drown

“Too many hearts are broken, we never ask why.
Too many sunsets, just passing us by.
Come on down, don't be shy—
Do you want to be happy or you want to be right?”

~Meredith Brooks, “Blurring the Edges”

One solitary figure moved slowly down the dusty road, eyes trained on the ground. The world was bathed in a rosy glow, the sun blazing its glory--a triumphant exultation, growing more and more intense as the minutes dragged by.

 

Its joy went unnoticed.

 

The figure let out a sigh, and its shoulders slumped a little. Blonde hair caught the glare, bloodcolored as it obscured amber eyes, shining peculiarly wet.

 

Why did you even hope? How could he—

 

The blonde squeezed his eyes shut, as if to smother both the tears and the thoughts.

 

He accomplished neither.

 

He began to run as he let out a soft sob, the events of earlier that day playing over in his mind.

 

He raised his hand and knocked on the office door.

 

“Come in.”

 

Ed grimaced—he had been half hoping that he would be out to lunch. In fact, he had made a point of coming at lunchtime.

 

He had forgotten: the colonel never ate lunch.

 

Hell, he'd never seen the man eat at all.

 

He squared his shoulders and opened the door. Approaching the desk, Ed stopped and took a seat on the couch.

 

He looked intently at the colonel, waiting for him to speak.

 

Said colonel refused his silent request, and sat staring at him. All right, had had initiated the encounter.

 

He sat there, words caught in his throat, choking him.

 

Finally he heard a sigh.

 

“Edward.”

 

His eyes snapped up. The colonel…Mustang…no, Roy…had said his name.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Spit it out.”

 

And somehow, that was all he needed. A glimpse of normalcy—this curtness that he had gotten accustomed to.

 

“I…I just…wow. Um…” he mumbled something unintelligible.

 

But the colonel must have heard a little of it…his eyes were wide and his voice wavered a little as he snapped, “What was that? Speak up, Fullmetal.”

 

Irritated, face as red as his coat, Ed shouted, “I said I love you, dammit!

 

The colonel said nothing for a moment, eyes even wider than before, then burst into too-loud laughter.

 

“That's great, Fullmetal. Wow, you had me there, for a minute. And I thought I was going to have to crush your tender heart.”

 

Ed said nothing, his eyes as wide as the colonel's had been a moment before. Slowly, he got up, backed towards the door with a peculiar half-smile on his lips, pulling them tight against his teeth. He turned suddenly, but not fast enough for his commanding officer to miss the half-strangled cry that escaped his throat, or the tear that finally escaped his over-bright golden eyes.

 

Not daring to look back to see what he is sure is an expression of disgust.

 

Not seeing what was an expression of shock, and maybe even a spark of hope.

 

He did, however, hear the footsteps behind him, but dismissed them as belonging to someone on their way home from work.

 

Then dismissed that notion when a white-gloved hand grasped his shoulder, stopping him, and pulling him backward into an embrace of blue-clad arms.

 

He smelled ash and clove-scented aftershave, and a scent underneath it all that was as unmistakable as it was indefinable and addictive.

 

Roy Mustang.

 

He breathed deeply, and then out slowly, before extricating himself from the man's grasp.

 

“What do you want?” he breathed, barely able to speak but for the mixture of emotions choking him. Anger. Grief. Desire. Pain.

 

“Fullmetal,” snapped the familiar voice. Dark eyes closed momentarily. “Ed…” he choked, quieter now, almost inaudible. “I'm…sorry. So sorry. I just didn't think…”

“No. You didn't.” Ed snapped, angrily brushing away a last tear, furious that his voice sounded as wavering as it did.

 

For the first time he could remember, Edward Elric saw Roy Mustang, colonel bastard and unrepentant playboy extraordinaire, hang his head with shame.

 

“You're right,” came the husky reply from under the bangs. “And I'm sorry.”

 

Ed thought he saw a single tear fall towards the ground, but couldn't believe his eyes. Curious, he walked up to the colonel and, with utmost care, as though afraid he would break, curled his forefinger under the older man's chin, forcing him to look upward.

 

He didn't doubt his eyes any longer—Mustang's eyes were shining with moisture and wide, again, as they had been in his office. He blinked furiously, as though trying to rid them of some foreign substance, but didn't try to move away. Ed's eyes watched as three tears trailed their way down pale cheeks just beginning to show a 5 o'clock stubble.

 

“So sorry…”

 

Without thinking, Ed leaned forward and kissed each droplet away. Then, after a moment's pause, he brushed his lips against the colonel's, still wet with the man's tears.

 

The colonel jerked at the contact, as though hit.

 

Surprised, Ed took a step back. The two stared at each other with wide eyes, Ed with his fingers to his lips, disbelieving, the colonel touching a tentative pink tongue to his lips to taste his own tears.

 

Suddenly, he stepped forward, silent, and his arm shot out around Ed's waist, pulling the boy towards him.

 

Their bodies shook as they clung to each other, two men too old for their ages standing in the middle of the deserted street in the dying light of the old day.

 

Neither was sure who initiated the second kiss—it seemed they both desired it equally. Both saw stars when their tongues met.

 

And both liked the feeling very much.