FMA| Human
We prove to each other we are both human now
[“All that I am asking for”, Lifehouse]
Ed’s muscles snap, moving almost on their own accord, his heart thumping in his ears as he rushes forward, arms open wide, back straight, because he is not going to let Roy- beautiful, powerful, broken Roy- be hurt. Because if there’s someone who’s disposable it’s him; without a purpose now that Alphonse’s body has been restored. Only mismatched limbs and sins piled up inside of him like walls of stones.
Not Roy, who keeps his head held high despite the ghosts of Ishbal flicking around his ankles. Not Roy who has dreams so much bigger, who could change Amestris and bring everyone a better life. Not Roy.
+++
Roy looks at his hands, pale and crimson stained and for an instant all that he hears is white noise, like echoing empty corridors, like death.
And he has seen it, oh so many times, painted gray on motionless bodies, written on broken limbs and burnt corpses. To see it smudging the contours of Ed’s eyes, though, is something different. It silences the sound of his own heart, the rushing of his own blood.
He crouches in the dirt, clutching Ed’s body and his hands hurt because of how tight he is holding on.
Don’t you dare, don’t you dare going where I can’t follow you. Please.
Around them people are shouting and moving but nothing seems to matter except for Ed’s ragged breathing, small gurgling sounds that break against the charred blue of Roy’s uniform. He tries to close his eyes but all he can see is Ed’s back in front of him, his arms open wide, his braid swinging. All he can hear is the sickening crack of the blow against his small body. He snaps his eyes open and feels sick with the notion of what Ed has done. His fingers grip tighter, cooling flesh and metal under his fingertips.
“Why did you have to do something so stupid!”
Ed’s unfocused eyes turn to him, molten gold, like the surface of some far-away sun.
“W-who is stupid, b-bastard…”
And it’s so much like Ed that Roy feels terribly close to sobbing.
+++
His eyelids feel heavy like lead and his mouth seems to be filled with copper. He doesn’t want to move, though. It feels almost nice here, in Roy’s arms, looking up at his pale face. His eyes seem even darker, like night, like ink, and Ed wishes he could drown in them. It would be so much easier, it would be so much better.
Roy’s lips are moving but it’s hard to make the words out through the freaking cotton that seems to have gotten stuck in his ears. Besides, who needs words? What use are they when he can ear Roy’s heart thumping, ear pressed against his chest. He is alive and that’s what matters, not the cold seeping into his bones, not the blood he can taste on his tongue.
You are alive. You are alive!
There are shadows around them, hands reaching for him and Roy’s fingers tighten on him and he is shouting something at the shadows. Ed wants to tell them to let him be, to let him stay with Roy, but the man’s hands loosen their grip and he is being lifted; he isn’t looking at the blurred lines of Roy’s face anymore but staring at what must be the sky, even though he isn’t sure.
“…ther! Brother!”
It must be Al; he has to tell him to let him go, to give him back to Roy. The words are heavy like stones on his tongue but he needs to let them out.
“A-Al…Let…let me g-go.”
“Alphonse, I think he is trying to talk to you.”
Ed blinks and tries to understand who’s speaking now, he squints and manages to make out Major Armstrong’s worried face. Oh, so he is the one who’s taking him away from Roy. He tries to struggle free from the man’s grip, but his body won’t answer.
“Brother, keep still, please. We’re going to take you somewhere safe, just…just stay with me.”
Al’s voice is trembling and Ed wonders if he is crying.
“A-Al…I…”
Let me stay with him. Why can’t I die in his arms?
This time the words won’t come out; he tries to turn to look at Al, but murky darkness is starting to cloud his vision. It’s cold and all that Ed can think about is Roy’s smile, the one that he is lucky enough to see on small and precious moments.
+++
Roy lets Riza help him to his feet; he doesn’t feel her arm around his shoulders, though, he doesn’t hear her words. There’s nothing but terrifying emptiness.
“Sir, let the paramedics take a look at you.”
He lowers his gaze on his ungloved hands; they no longer are covered in his blood, someone must have cleaned him up. It hits him like a wild, clawing animal, the knowledge that Ed is no longer here with him. He spins around and grabs Riza’s shoulders.
“Where is he?”
“Colonel, sir, you need to calm down.”
Forcing himself to take a deep breath and to keep the flames licking at his veins in check, he blinks.
“I am perfectly calm, lieutenant. I need to know where he is.”
His heart swings back and forth in his ribcage, without sense of direction. Riza sighs and nods.
“I’ll escort you to the hospital, sir.”
The ride to the hospital is a blur of buildings and lampposts and flashes of golden hair and smooth warm skin. Roy opens and closes his hands, as though it could help to get a hold of Ed, because he can’t go, he can’t leave Roy again.
They tell him to wait, he barely manages to restrain himself from yelling at them that he doesn’t want to wait, that he can’t, because he has spent years waiting, buried under the snow and a grief so big that it’s a miracle his bones didn’t shatter underneath it.
Alphonse sits on the bench besides him, flesh hands clasped together and bangs of brown hair falling in front of his eyes. Roy wishes he knew what to say, but it was because of him that Ed is lying behind white closed doors, open and broken as those doctors try to put him back together. It was his life Ed valued more than his own.
He clenches his hands, nails digging into his palms now that the blood-soaked gloves have been removed.
“It isn’t your fault you know?”
Alphonse’s voice is thin, like fabric pulled too tight. Roy’s heart claws at his ribcage like a fanged beast- it is your fault, Roy. It should have been you- and he simply stares at the white wall in front of him.
*
After what feels like a lifetime a doctor comes to tell them that the operation is over; there is no guarantee of Ed waking up from his drug-induced coma.
Roy feels himself nod, but he isn’t sure because reality suddenly seems too difficult to comprehend, things and people like ghosts and too far away for him to reach.
*
He spends the night in Ed’s room with Alphonse. He doesn’t sleep; every time he closes his eyes he sees Ed’s straight back, his arms open wide like wings.
+++
It hurts; pain blossoms like a flower through his chest and Ed wants to scream but his lips are sealed. His eyes too, they open on darkness and a weird softness that he doesn’t recognize. It feels a bit like being under water; memories of the days spent with Al training flow back to him. He remembers lying on the ground looking at the sky filled with stars.
Something brushes against his hand, firm and coarse, and Ed wishes he could grab it and hold on, but his fingers won’t move, his eyes won’t open. At the back of his mind he knows there is something he wants to see, needs to, but his thoughts scatter around like sparrows in a spring sky.
Splinters of images flitter around him, confused, pale skin and pitch black eyes, firm lips and words piled up, left unsaid. Because they have never tried to give a name to the rumbling need that made them fall into a bed together for the first time or the sparking connection that kept them tied, despite the darkness of their memories, despite everything.
There is a window, it is open and the sound of people walking by along the street filter in. They call this place Munich and sometimes it is so similar to Amestris that it hurts, because at every corner he turns he hopes and hopes but nothing happens. People remain trapped on the other side, people he loves so much that his heart cracks with the sheer force of it.
Ed knows he has left this place. He has managed to go back to where he belongs, but in this silent limbo he is stuck in that window is the only thing he can see. The only thing he can do is stare at it and remember him- the look in his eyes under the orange-tinted sky. Roy was his last thought before he activated the transmutation circles he had drawn onto himself.
Roy is always his last and first thought. And it’s scary, but Ed has stopped to fight it a long time ago.
I want to see you.
+++
Roy feels as though his whole body has turned into stone; he simply sits there, heart heavy and too big, looking at Ed as he lays still, pale and beautiful like some unknown creature fallen from the sky.
There have been times, Ed open and trembling underneath him, stunning and wild like some exotic flower, when Roy has doubted all of it was real. That someone as fierce and beautiful and dangerous as Ed could accept his touch, could open up and give himself up for him.
His breath stutters in his lungs as he tries to convince himself that he is going to see Ed’s eyes again, heavy-lidded with pleasure and wide with surprise, squinted in anger and soft with affection.
“Colonel, you can go home and rest. I’ll stay here with him.”
Roy lifts his gaze; Alphonse’s eyes are tired and bloodshot, he looks so much younger.
“You go and take a nap, Alphonse. Lieutenant Hawkeye will drive you there and bring you back in a couple of hours.”
He wills himself not to fidget under Alphonse’s perceptive gaze; the younger Elric tilts his head to the side and for a while doesn’t say anything, his brown eyes intent. Ed and he have never told Alphonse about their relationship- probably because they didn’t have a name for it or any explanation, really- but Roy has often had the feeling that Alphonse knew more than he let out.
“Alright. I’ll be back here in two hours and then you’ll have rest, Colonel.”
Roy nods even though he knows perfectly well that he won’t leave Ed’s side.
“I know you care about brother. He does too, you know?”
Alphonse is standing by the door, a shy smile on his face and Roy finds himself smiling back. When the door clicks closed softly, he gets up and moves closer to the bed. Ed’s eyes are moving behind his eyelids and Roy wonders what is it that they are seeing. Does Ed remember him in the place where he has gone? Will he ever come back? Or is it better for him to remain there? Far from all this mess, from the conflicts that still snake through Amestris even though years have passed from the fall of Fuhrer Bradley, from people who lose control of their alchemy and twist and corrupt it- or are corrupted by it.
Ed has already seen and felt so much pain during the course of his young life; he deserves so much better, but he probably won’t have it for some years to come and is it really worth it? To keep struggling without knowing when peace will truly come? Roy knows this is a dangerous way of thinking about life and what happened to all of them. He already walked down such a path when he was sent back home after Ishbal and realized that nothing could ever be the same. That the taste of sand and the tang of overused alchemy and blood will always linger at the back of his mind, like a tattoo etched in the curves of his brain. He had never really come to think that death would have been better but he had come close, on sleepless nights, when his dreams and his promises to Maes weren’t strong enough to contain the onslaught of horrible memories. Before a mutilated boy with eyes filled with fire had crashed into his life.
He has never thought about it before, about the silent way Edward’s presence has managed to shape his life, since he was simply a boy under his command up until now, now that he is so much more. Roy had never allowed himself to let someone crawl so much underneath his skin. It was dangerous and painful and no one deserved to have the right to hurt him, to make him feel vulnerable and exposed. Apparently he has subconsciously given himself over to Edward, throwing his being in the boy’s mismatched hands without a second thought.
That’s when he understands that despite the pain and the struggles that await Ed when he will wake up, he wants, needs him to come back. Maybe it’s selfish, but there’s no way Roy can help it. He wants Ed here, alive, yelling, bitching, moaning, breathing.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he carefully takes Ed’s flesh hand into his. And he waits.
+++
It tickles, small sparks of electricity try to make their way from his fingers up to his brain; not all of them succeed. There are murmurs swirling around the shells of his ears too, probably words, but he can’t make them out properly. One sounds like “please” and he wants to ask what he has to do, he wants to promise he would do anything in his power to meet the request, but his lips still refuse to cooperate.
I’do everything for you; don’t you know it, idiot?
Realization hits him like a punch in the stomach, bright and absurd. How could Roy truly know if he has never told him? Sure, they know how to communicate without words, with glances and hands and skin sliding against skin, wet and hot and so right. But is it really enough? Ed knows what he feels; he has accepted it after having spent so much time fighting it, shoving it away because he didn’t have the right or the time to listen to his heart when he had Al’s body to restore.
He has to go back; he has to tell him, be it the last fucking thing he’ll ever do in his life. He tries to concentrate on the faint sparks that run up and down his left arm; someone is probably touching or holding his hand- he can’t help hoping that it is Roy. Thinking that Roy could be the first thing he sees when he finally manages to open his eyes, makes it worth to endure the pain that flares through him as he tried.
Channeling all of his energy, he focuses on the tingling place that is supposed to be his hand. Sensations flare up along his nerves, something firm and warm, coarse spots, probably fingertips. They press gently against the tingling surface that is supposed to be his skin. It seems centuries since the last time he felt something; he wonders for how long he has been trapped in this fuzzy void. He tries not to think of how worried Roy must be, but he fails and he almost can imagine the frown on his face, the restlessness in his dark eyes- he has seen it so many times and it hurts so badly to know that he is responsible for it now.
He tries to locate one of his fingers, there’s only heavy emptiness where they should be but this doesn’t change the fact that he has to try, his nerve endings must end up somewhere, right? It’s draining and he feels weaker with every attempt, but he keeps his mind focused on sending inputs down to his sleeping hands, again and again.
Please, make me feel him. Make him feel me!
+++
It was nothing, just a faint trembling; it could have been the breeze whispering past the window, it could have been anything.
Roy blinks, his hands closing tighter around Ed’s flesh one. He wants to yell, to plead, but he is too afraid that even a single word could shatter the frail hope that has wrapped around him like a tender second skin. So he waits for Ed’s fingers to tremble again, holding his breath until his lungs burn with the effort.
Another small twitch echoes through his tired and wrecked body and in an instant he is pushing the button to call the nurse, the doctor, whoever is it. He keeps his palm pressed against it as the other carefully holds Ed’s hand. A small crease is slowly forming between his blonde eyebrows; Roy tries to imagine the pain he must be in, but it’s as though vicious claws close around his throat squeezing tight. It was supposed to be him, and in this moment he knows he won’t forget this, not ever.
A small broken sound slips past Ed’s dry lips; it pulls at Roy’s heart so hard he can’t help imagining a thread strung between them. Will it ever break? Will it ever pull so tight to bleed them to death? He would happily die like that if it meant holding onto Ed until the end.
A sea of white backs slide between him and the bed and, numb with too much hope and too much dread, Roy lets go of Ed’s hand and steps back. He has to call Alphonse, he knows that much. He doesn’t even manage to speak on the phone, he stumbles upon words, tongue knotting up. Somehow Alphonse manages to understand, even though Roy suspects it’s more due to the connection he has with his brother than to his rather poor communication skills.
+++
Everything hurts and Ed doesn’t manage to do much more than staring blankly at the ceiling while doctors and nurses move around him checking his pulse and flashing lights in his eyes. He wishes he had enough strength to shout at them to leave him alone and go unnerving other poor patients. He wishes he could say he knew how to take care of himself, but the truth is he doesn’t. He just went right ahead, without thinking, following the screams of his stupid heart, calling for Roy.
Now, as he lies on the small bed, needles and drips piercing his skin, he realizes that in that moment he didn’t even think about Al, about what it would have meant to leave him alone in this world, with no family left. He is an idiot, he knows that much; he should have fought harder to push back this feeling, so freaking cumbersome and annoying. Growing without permission, making his heart beat faster when it shouldn’t, making him throw away his life without a second thought.
At a certain point he must have fallen asleep because when he opens his eyes again the sun is setting and there’s someone sitting by his bed. His neck hurts, but he turns his head nonetheless.
Roy’s dark eyes widen slightly; a small spark shines within Ed at the thought that no one else would have noticed. Roy seems to lower his defenses only with him. Ed doesn’t know if it is a question of love or of trust; what he knows is that to be the one who gets to see Roy open and frail and real makes him feel as though he can almost hold the world in his hands. Almost, not only because to do that is physically impossible, but also because he keeps feeling unable to hold Roy’s heart properly, too clumsy to handle it with care. He will never forget the look on Roy’s face when he decided to go back to the other side - hurt and longing and things breaking inside of him - nor Roy’s expression when he managed to come back and knocked at his office door - fear and hope and terrifying love.
Roy doesn’t speak, he simply covers his hand with his broader and paler one. It feels good to touch him again, to feel his skin and underneath it his muscles and bones. He is alive and Ed allows himself to smile at the thought that he is alive too and that means he’ll get to hold Roy again, to be filled and surrounded by him again.
He doesn’t have it in him to speak, though, to give explanations he doesn’t think necessary, so he simply slides his fingers between Roy’s and holds on.
+++
As Ed gets better, color returning to his cheeks and bad temper scarring nurses and doctors for life, Roy feels life coming back to his tired and battered body as well. He didn’t realize how exhausted he was until a couple of days after Ed had woken up the doctors told him that he wasn’t at risk of slipping back into coma anymore. He slept almost a whole day and when he woke up Ed was still there. It felt like coming back to life.
*
Despite Ed’s vocal protests, Alphonse manages to convince him to stay at Roy’s house for a while, because it’s bigger and closer to the hospital and “really, brother, you go and risk your life for him and pretend to hide your relationship from me?”
The first night they’re back to sleeping in the same bed Roy is careful not to hurt him. just resting a hand on Ed’s hipbone, feeling the solidity of his body underneath his fingers, is enough. It’s Ed who grabs fistfuls of Roy’s pajamas and pulls him closer, until their bodies slot together perfectly, every curve and every line familiar.
“I almost died for you, but I’m not made of glass, you idiot.”
Ed’s voice is soft, laced with palpable longing, and Roy simply kisses him, over and over, hands caressing, to say everything that he isn’t able to put into words- I’ll always be here. I’ll never let go of you ever again.
Roy slides between Ed’s thighs, strong and smooth, bracketing him and somehow defining him - this is what you are meant to be. One with this boy who holds the sun inside his chest and the fire in his eyes. Ed’s arms come up around his neck, one warm and one cold, metal pressing against his skin grounding and familiar. Roy holds his gaze as he pushes inside, the whole world swallowed up by white heat and the knowledge that Ed is alive, alive and in his arms, heart pounding and body moving and breathing.
“Promise me.”
Roy blinks and holds Ed’s gaze, burning bright.
“Promise you what?”
“That your life is mine. You can’t go around throwing it away if it is mine.”
Roy’s heart seems to expand and instinctively he sinks in deeper, Ed’s mismatched legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him even closer.
“I…I promise.”
Ed grins before tilting his hips up and kissing Roy as though he needs him to breathe. Roy hopes it is true, because only with Ed in his life there’s meaning and sense to this world.
The End
[“All that I am asking for”, Lifehouse]
Ed’s muscles snap, moving almost on their own accord, his heart thumping in his ears as he rushes forward, arms open wide, back straight, because he is not going to let Roy- beautiful, powerful, broken Roy- be hurt. Because if there’s someone who’s disposable it’s him; without a purpose now that Alphonse’s body has been restored. Only mismatched limbs and sins piled up inside of him like walls of stones.
Not Roy, who keeps his head held high despite the ghosts of Ishbal flicking around his ankles. Not Roy who has dreams so much bigger, who could change Amestris and bring everyone a better life. Not Roy.
+++
Roy looks at his hands, pale and crimson stained and for an instant all that he hears is white noise, like echoing empty corridors, like death.
And he has seen it, oh so many times, painted gray on motionless bodies, written on broken limbs and burnt corpses. To see it smudging the contours of Ed’s eyes, though, is something different. It silences the sound of his own heart, the rushing of his own blood.
He crouches in the dirt, clutching Ed’s body and his hands hurt because of how tight he is holding on.
Don’t you dare, don’t you dare going where I can’t follow you. Please.
Around them people are shouting and moving but nothing seems to matter except for Ed’s ragged breathing, small gurgling sounds that break against the charred blue of Roy’s uniform. He tries to close his eyes but all he can see is Ed’s back in front of him, his arms open wide, his braid swinging. All he can hear is the sickening crack of the blow against his small body. He snaps his eyes open and feels sick with the notion of what Ed has done. His fingers grip tighter, cooling flesh and metal under his fingertips.
“Why did you have to do something so stupid!”
Ed’s unfocused eyes turn to him, molten gold, like the surface of some far-away sun.
“W-who is stupid, b-bastard…”
And it’s so much like Ed that Roy feels terribly close to sobbing.
+++
His eyelids feel heavy like lead and his mouth seems to be filled with copper. He doesn’t want to move, though. It feels almost nice here, in Roy’s arms, looking up at his pale face. His eyes seem even darker, like night, like ink, and Ed wishes he could drown in them. It would be so much easier, it would be so much better.
Roy’s lips are moving but it’s hard to make the words out through the freaking cotton that seems to have gotten stuck in his ears. Besides, who needs words? What use are they when he can ear Roy’s heart thumping, ear pressed against his chest. He is alive and that’s what matters, not the cold seeping into his bones, not the blood he can taste on his tongue.
You are alive. You are alive!
There are shadows around them, hands reaching for him and Roy’s fingers tighten on him and he is shouting something at the shadows. Ed wants to tell them to let him be, to let him stay with Roy, but the man’s hands loosen their grip and he is being lifted; he isn’t looking at the blurred lines of Roy’s face anymore but staring at what must be the sky, even though he isn’t sure.
“…ther! Brother!”
It must be Al; he has to tell him to let him go, to give him back to Roy. The words are heavy like stones on his tongue but he needs to let them out.
“A-Al…Let…let me g-go.”
“Alphonse, I think he is trying to talk to you.”
Ed blinks and tries to understand who’s speaking now, he squints and manages to make out Major Armstrong’s worried face. Oh, so he is the one who’s taking him away from Roy. He tries to struggle free from the man’s grip, but his body won’t answer.
“Brother, keep still, please. We’re going to take you somewhere safe, just…just stay with me.”
Al’s voice is trembling and Ed wonders if he is crying.
“A-Al…I…”
Let me stay with him. Why can’t I die in his arms?
This time the words won’t come out; he tries to turn to look at Al, but murky darkness is starting to cloud his vision. It’s cold and all that Ed can think about is Roy’s smile, the one that he is lucky enough to see on small and precious moments.
+++
Roy lets Riza help him to his feet; he doesn’t feel her arm around his shoulders, though, he doesn’t hear her words. There’s nothing but terrifying emptiness.
“Sir, let the paramedics take a look at you.”
He lowers his gaze on his ungloved hands; they no longer are covered in his blood, someone must have cleaned him up. It hits him like a wild, clawing animal, the knowledge that Ed is no longer here with him. He spins around and grabs Riza’s shoulders.
“Where is he?”
“Colonel, sir, you need to calm down.”
Forcing himself to take a deep breath and to keep the flames licking at his veins in check, he blinks.
“I am perfectly calm, lieutenant. I need to know where he is.”
His heart swings back and forth in his ribcage, without sense of direction. Riza sighs and nods.
“I’ll escort you to the hospital, sir.”
The ride to the hospital is a blur of buildings and lampposts and flashes of golden hair and smooth warm skin. Roy opens and closes his hands, as though it could help to get a hold of Ed, because he can’t go, he can’t leave Roy again.
They tell him to wait, he barely manages to restrain himself from yelling at them that he doesn’t want to wait, that he can’t, because he has spent years waiting, buried under the snow and a grief so big that it’s a miracle his bones didn’t shatter underneath it.
Alphonse sits on the bench besides him, flesh hands clasped together and bangs of brown hair falling in front of his eyes. Roy wishes he knew what to say, but it was because of him that Ed is lying behind white closed doors, open and broken as those doctors try to put him back together. It was his life Ed valued more than his own.
He clenches his hands, nails digging into his palms now that the blood-soaked gloves have been removed.
“It isn’t your fault you know?”
Alphonse’s voice is thin, like fabric pulled too tight. Roy’s heart claws at his ribcage like a fanged beast- it is your fault, Roy. It should have been you- and he simply stares at the white wall in front of him.
*
After what feels like a lifetime a doctor comes to tell them that the operation is over; there is no guarantee of Ed waking up from his drug-induced coma.
Roy feels himself nod, but he isn’t sure because reality suddenly seems too difficult to comprehend, things and people like ghosts and too far away for him to reach.
*
He spends the night in Ed’s room with Alphonse. He doesn’t sleep; every time he closes his eyes he sees Ed’s straight back, his arms open wide like wings.
+++
It hurts; pain blossoms like a flower through his chest and Ed wants to scream but his lips are sealed. His eyes too, they open on darkness and a weird softness that he doesn’t recognize. It feels a bit like being under water; memories of the days spent with Al training flow back to him. He remembers lying on the ground looking at the sky filled with stars.
Something brushes against his hand, firm and coarse, and Ed wishes he could grab it and hold on, but his fingers won’t move, his eyes won’t open. At the back of his mind he knows there is something he wants to see, needs to, but his thoughts scatter around like sparrows in a spring sky.
Splinters of images flitter around him, confused, pale skin and pitch black eyes, firm lips and words piled up, left unsaid. Because they have never tried to give a name to the rumbling need that made them fall into a bed together for the first time or the sparking connection that kept them tied, despite the darkness of their memories, despite everything.
There is a window, it is open and the sound of people walking by along the street filter in. They call this place Munich and sometimes it is so similar to Amestris that it hurts, because at every corner he turns he hopes and hopes but nothing happens. People remain trapped on the other side, people he loves so much that his heart cracks with the sheer force of it.
Ed knows he has left this place. He has managed to go back to where he belongs, but in this silent limbo he is stuck in that window is the only thing he can see. The only thing he can do is stare at it and remember him- the look in his eyes under the orange-tinted sky. Roy was his last thought before he activated the transmutation circles he had drawn onto himself.
Roy is always his last and first thought. And it’s scary, but Ed has stopped to fight it a long time ago.
I want to see you.
+++
Roy feels as though his whole body has turned into stone; he simply sits there, heart heavy and too big, looking at Ed as he lays still, pale and beautiful like some unknown creature fallen from the sky.
There have been times, Ed open and trembling underneath him, stunning and wild like some exotic flower, when Roy has doubted all of it was real. That someone as fierce and beautiful and dangerous as Ed could accept his touch, could open up and give himself up for him.
His breath stutters in his lungs as he tries to convince himself that he is going to see Ed’s eyes again, heavy-lidded with pleasure and wide with surprise, squinted in anger and soft with affection.
“Colonel, you can go home and rest. I’ll stay here with him.”
Roy lifts his gaze; Alphonse’s eyes are tired and bloodshot, he looks so much younger.
“You go and take a nap, Alphonse. Lieutenant Hawkeye will drive you there and bring you back in a couple of hours.”
He wills himself not to fidget under Alphonse’s perceptive gaze; the younger Elric tilts his head to the side and for a while doesn’t say anything, his brown eyes intent. Ed and he have never told Alphonse about their relationship- probably because they didn’t have a name for it or any explanation, really- but Roy has often had the feeling that Alphonse knew more than he let out.
“Alright. I’ll be back here in two hours and then you’ll have rest, Colonel.”
Roy nods even though he knows perfectly well that he won’t leave Ed’s side.
“I know you care about brother. He does too, you know?”
Alphonse is standing by the door, a shy smile on his face and Roy finds himself smiling back. When the door clicks closed softly, he gets up and moves closer to the bed. Ed’s eyes are moving behind his eyelids and Roy wonders what is it that they are seeing. Does Ed remember him in the place where he has gone? Will he ever come back? Or is it better for him to remain there? Far from all this mess, from the conflicts that still snake through Amestris even though years have passed from the fall of Fuhrer Bradley, from people who lose control of their alchemy and twist and corrupt it- or are corrupted by it.
Ed has already seen and felt so much pain during the course of his young life; he deserves so much better, but he probably won’t have it for some years to come and is it really worth it? To keep struggling without knowing when peace will truly come? Roy knows this is a dangerous way of thinking about life and what happened to all of them. He already walked down such a path when he was sent back home after Ishbal and realized that nothing could ever be the same. That the taste of sand and the tang of overused alchemy and blood will always linger at the back of his mind, like a tattoo etched in the curves of his brain. He had never really come to think that death would have been better but he had come close, on sleepless nights, when his dreams and his promises to Maes weren’t strong enough to contain the onslaught of horrible memories. Before a mutilated boy with eyes filled with fire had crashed into his life.
He has never thought about it before, about the silent way Edward’s presence has managed to shape his life, since he was simply a boy under his command up until now, now that he is so much more. Roy had never allowed himself to let someone crawl so much underneath his skin. It was dangerous and painful and no one deserved to have the right to hurt him, to make him feel vulnerable and exposed. Apparently he has subconsciously given himself over to Edward, throwing his being in the boy’s mismatched hands without a second thought.
That’s when he understands that despite the pain and the struggles that await Ed when he will wake up, he wants, needs him to come back. Maybe it’s selfish, but there’s no way Roy can help it. He wants Ed here, alive, yelling, bitching, moaning, breathing.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he carefully takes Ed’s flesh hand into his. And he waits.
+++
It tickles, small sparks of electricity try to make their way from his fingers up to his brain; not all of them succeed. There are murmurs swirling around the shells of his ears too, probably words, but he can’t make them out properly. One sounds like “please” and he wants to ask what he has to do, he wants to promise he would do anything in his power to meet the request, but his lips still refuse to cooperate.
I’do everything for you; don’t you know it, idiot?
Realization hits him like a punch in the stomach, bright and absurd. How could Roy truly know if he has never told him? Sure, they know how to communicate without words, with glances and hands and skin sliding against skin, wet and hot and so right. But is it really enough? Ed knows what he feels; he has accepted it after having spent so much time fighting it, shoving it away because he didn’t have the right or the time to listen to his heart when he had Al’s body to restore.
He has to go back; he has to tell him, be it the last fucking thing he’ll ever do in his life. He tries to concentrate on the faint sparks that run up and down his left arm; someone is probably touching or holding his hand- he can’t help hoping that it is Roy. Thinking that Roy could be the first thing he sees when he finally manages to open his eyes, makes it worth to endure the pain that flares through him as he tried.
Channeling all of his energy, he focuses on the tingling place that is supposed to be his hand. Sensations flare up along his nerves, something firm and warm, coarse spots, probably fingertips. They press gently against the tingling surface that is supposed to be his skin. It seems centuries since the last time he felt something; he wonders for how long he has been trapped in this fuzzy void. He tries not to think of how worried Roy must be, but he fails and he almost can imagine the frown on his face, the restlessness in his dark eyes- he has seen it so many times and it hurts so badly to know that he is responsible for it now.
He tries to locate one of his fingers, there’s only heavy emptiness where they should be but this doesn’t change the fact that he has to try, his nerve endings must end up somewhere, right? It’s draining and he feels weaker with every attempt, but he keeps his mind focused on sending inputs down to his sleeping hands, again and again.
Please, make me feel him. Make him feel me!
+++
It was nothing, just a faint trembling; it could have been the breeze whispering past the window, it could have been anything.
Roy blinks, his hands closing tighter around Ed’s flesh one. He wants to yell, to plead, but he is too afraid that even a single word could shatter the frail hope that has wrapped around him like a tender second skin. So he waits for Ed’s fingers to tremble again, holding his breath until his lungs burn with the effort.
Another small twitch echoes through his tired and wrecked body and in an instant he is pushing the button to call the nurse, the doctor, whoever is it. He keeps his palm pressed against it as the other carefully holds Ed’s hand. A small crease is slowly forming between his blonde eyebrows; Roy tries to imagine the pain he must be in, but it’s as though vicious claws close around his throat squeezing tight. It was supposed to be him, and in this moment he knows he won’t forget this, not ever.
A small broken sound slips past Ed’s dry lips; it pulls at Roy’s heart so hard he can’t help imagining a thread strung between them. Will it ever break? Will it ever pull so tight to bleed them to death? He would happily die like that if it meant holding onto Ed until the end.
A sea of white backs slide between him and the bed and, numb with too much hope and too much dread, Roy lets go of Ed’s hand and steps back. He has to call Alphonse, he knows that much. He doesn’t even manage to speak on the phone, he stumbles upon words, tongue knotting up. Somehow Alphonse manages to understand, even though Roy suspects it’s more due to the connection he has with his brother than to his rather poor communication skills.
+++
Everything hurts and Ed doesn’t manage to do much more than staring blankly at the ceiling while doctors and nurses move around him checking his pulse and flashing lights in his eyes. He wishes he had enough strength to shout at them to leave him alone and go unnerving other poor patients. He wishes he could say he knew how to take care of himself, but the truth is he doesn’t. He just went right ahead, without thinking, following the screams of his stupid heart, calling for Roy.
Now, as he lies on the small bed, needles and drips piercing his skin, he realizes that in that moment he didn’t even think about Al, about what it would have meant to leave him alone in this world, with no family left. He is an idiot, he knows that much; he should have fought harder to push back this feeling, so freaking cumbersome and annoying. Growing without permission, making his heart beat faster when it shouldn’t, making him throw away his life without a second thought.
At a certain point he must have fallen asleep because when he opens his eyes again the sun is setting and there’s someone sitting by his bed. His neck hurts, but he turns his head nonetheless.
Roy’s dark eyes widen slightly; a small spark shines within Ed at the thought that no one else would have noticed. Roy seems to lower his defenses only with him. Ed doesn’t know if it is a question of love or of trust; what he knows is that to be the one who gets to see Roy open and frail and real makes him feel as though he can almost hold the world in his hands. Almost, not only because to do that is physically impossible, but also because he keeps feeling unable to hold Roy’s heart properly, too clumsy to handle it with care. He will never forget the look on Roy’s face when he decided to go back to the other side - hurt and longing and things breaking inside of him - nor Roy’s expression when he managed to come back and knocked at his office door - fear and hope and terrifying love.
Roy doesn’t speak, he simply covers his hand with his broader and paler one. It feels good to touch him again, to feel his skin and underneath it his muscles and bones. He is alive and Ed allows himself to smile at the thought that he is alive too and that means he’ll get to hold Roy again, to be filled and surrounded by him again.
He doesn’t have it in him to speak, though, to give explanations he doesn’t think necessary, so he simply slides his fingers between Roy’s and holds on.
+++
As Ed gets better, color returning to his cheeks and bad temper scarring nurses and doctors for life, Roy feels life coming back to his tired and battered body as well. He didn’t realize how exhausted he was until a couple of days after Ed had woken up the doctors told him that he wasn’t at risk of slipping back into coma anymore. He slept almost a whole day and when he woke up Ed was still there. It felt like coming back to life.
*
Despite Ed’s vocal protests, Alphonse manages to convince him to stay at Roy’s house for a while, because it’s bigger and closer to the hospital and “really, brother, you go and risk your life for him and pretend to hide your relationship from me?”
The first night they’re back to sleeping in the same bed Roy is careful not to hurt him. just resting a hand on Ed’s hipbone, feeling the solidity of his body underneath his fingers, is enough. It’s Ed who grabs fistfuls of Roy’s pajamas and pulls him closer, until their bodies slot together perfectly, every curve and every line familiar.
“I almost died for you, but I’m not made of glass, you idiot.”
Ed’s voice is soft, laced with palpable longing, and Roy simply kisses him, over and over, hands caressing, to say everything that he isn’t able to put into words- I’ll always be here. I’ll never let go of you ever again.
Roy slides between Ed’s thighs, strong and smooth, bracketing him and somehow defining him - this is what you are meant to be. One with this boy who holds the sun inside his chest and the fire in his eyes. Ed’s arms come up around his neck, one warm and one cold, metal pressing against his skin grounding and familiar. Roy holds his gaze as he pushes inside, the whole world swallowed up by white heat and the knowledge that Ed is alive, alive and in his arms, heart pounding and body moving and breathing.
“Promise me.”
Roy blinks and holds Ed’s gaze, burning bright.
“Promise you what?”
“That your life is mine. You can’t go around throwing it away if it is mine.”
Roy’s heart seems to expand and instinctively he sinks in deeper, Ed’s mismatched legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him even closer.
“I…I promise.”
Ed grins before tilting his hips up and kissing Roy as though he needs him to breathe. Roy hopes it is true, because only with Ed in his life there’s meaning and sense to this world.
The End