Fullmetal Alchemist, "In the Heat of the Moment," Nash/Belsio, PG
It's short, it's emo, it was a helluva thing to write. Fulfills prompt #1 for 20_inkspots, "the things I should have said," and hey, it's done.
Give it a read, let me know what you think of it?
Our contributions for 20_inkspots, in chronological order:
1895: "Holding Back" (#2)
1906: "Dawn for a Dying Man" (#16)
1910: "In the Heat of the Moment" (#1)
1910: "The Pain of Holding On" (#19)
1910: "A Breath of Fresh Air" (#5)
1913: "Strays, part 1" (#3)
1913: "Strays, part 2" (#17)
1913: "Strays, part 3" (#12)
1914: "Everyone Together, All Alone" (#10)
1914: "Sins of the Father" (#14)
1915: "Ask" (#20)
1915: "Keeping Secrets" (#6)
1915: "The Father I Never Was" (#9)
1915: "Timeless" (#18)
1915: "Balance" (#11)
1917: "A Father's Pride and Joy" (#15)
1918: "The Unexpected Gift of Fatherhood (#7)
1918: "Adjustment" (#4)
1918: "Gold of the Earth" (#8)
Will be updated as more stories are added. ^_^
In the Heat of the Moment
by Mistr3ss Quickly
On the last night he spoke with Nash, John said things he'd been wanting to say for years, but had never quite managed to put into words.
He said I wish I'd never met you, because he did.
He honestly wished he'd never met the brilliant Alchemist who'd stolen his heart, shown him how it felt to be utterly devoted to another human being. Honestly wished he'd never dreamed of Nash's return, alone and lonesome over the long years they'd been apart. Honestly wished he didn't feel the ache he felt, knowing that Nash was leaving him, yet again.
He said I hope you fail, because he did.
He honestly hoped Nash would never find the success that would take him away forever. Honestly hoped Nash would come back to him, broken and disillusioned and desperate to be loved and comforted. Honestly hoped that Nash would taste failure so bitter that he would never try to leave, ever again.
He said I hate you, because he did.
He honestly hated the man looking at him with unbearable pain in his sad blue eyes. Honestly hated the apathetic sagging of Nash's shoulders, the defeat they bore on them. Honestly hated the mumbled apologies he heard coming from Nash's mouth, barely audible and hardly sincere.
Hated the sight of Nash's back, turned to him. The sound of the door closing behind his lover, leaving him alone and broken and wretched.
Again.
~*~*~*~
On this night, John holds Nash in his arms and says things he's wanted to say, ever since that night.
He says Nash, open your eyes, because he desperately wants him to. Desperately wants him to see that he's not alone, that he's not been abandoned. Desperately wants him to see that he's safe now, that he's got someone looking after him. Desperately wants him to know who's with him. Whose arms he feels, scooping him up. Whose chin he's tucking his head beneath.
He says Nash, speak to me, because he desperately wants him to. Desperately wants to hear Nash's voice, reassuring him that he's still conscious, still lucid. Desperately wants to hear Nash's words, telling him where it hurts and why, telling him what he can do to make it better. Desperately wants to hear Nash's voice saying his name. Asking for the help John is eager to give. Asking for words of comfort John would gladly speak.
He says Nash, stay with me, because he desperately wants him to. Desperately wants the past to be nothing but a bad dream, Nash staying with him and loving him, content with what John has to offer him. Desperately wants the shudders he can feel, wracking his lover's painfully thin body to be nothing but his imagination, nothing but a shiver in the evening chill. Desperately wants Nash to live, to survive and recover and live, because it's never before felt so real that he could truly lose the man he loves, and lose him to something other than Alchemy and fame and distance and stubborn male pride.
He kicks open the front door and carries Nash into his bedroom, lies the man down on the bed he's slept in alone far more often than he'd care to admit, and touches Nash's cheek, whispers to him until Nash opens his eyes.
"Nash," he says, "can you hear me?"
Nash smiles weakly and nods. He doesn't speak, but his hand finds one of John's and squeezes.
"You need a doctor, Nash," John says. "I'm going to go and call for one."
Another nod. Another squeeze.
"I won't be long," John says. "I promise."
Nothing. Nash's breath rattles.
John swallows hard around panic rising like bile in his throat, bitter and terrifying. He kisses Nash's fingers and rises to his feet, watching just long enough to reassure himself that his lover has drawn another breath, wet and labored between horribly chapped lips.
Time is running out, he doesn't want to think. He'll die if you don't go and get a doctor for him. Go, go now.
He frowns and rises to his feet, hands curled into fists as he says the one thing he's not said to his lover nearly recently enough, the only thing that he can think of that would be worth delaying him.
Nash's eyelids flutter. Not much of an answer, but more than enough to satisfy John.
"Be here when I return," he whispers, as the front door closes behind him, his own footsteps deafeningly loud as he runs towards town.
I'll never forgive myself if you're not.
Give it a read, let me know what you think of it?
Our contributions for 20_inkspots, in chronological order:
1895: "Holding Back" (#2)
1906: "Dawn for a Dying Man" (#16)
1910: "In the Heat of the Moment" (#1)
1910: "The Pain of Holding On" (#19)
1910: "A Breath of Fresh Air" (#5)
1913: "Strays, part 1" (#3)
1913: "Strays, part 2" (#17)
1913: "Strays, part 3" (#12)
1914: "Everyone Together, All Alone" (#10)
1914: "Sins of the Father" (#14)
1915: "Ask" (#20)
1915: "Keeping Secrets" (#6)
1915: "The Father I Never Was" (#9)
1915: "Timeless" (#18)
1915: "Balance" (#11)
1917: "A Father's Pride and Joy" (#15)
1918: "The Unexpected Gift of Fatherhood (#7)
1918: "Adjustment" (#4)
1918: "Gold of the Earth" (#8)
Will be updated as more stories are added. ^_^
In the Heat of the Moment
by Mistr3ss Quickly
On the last night he spoke with Nash, John said things he'd been wanting to say for years, but had never quite managed to put into words.
He said I wish I'd never met you, because he did.
He honestly wished he'd never met the brilliant Alchemist who'd stolen his heart, shown him how it felt to be utterly devoted to another human being. Honestly wished he'd never dreamed of Nash's return, alone and lonesome over the long years they'd been apart. Honestly wished he didn't feel the ache he felt, knowing that Nash was leaving him, yet again.
He said I hope you fail, because he did.
He honestly hoped Nash would never find the success that would take him away forever. Honestly hoped Nash would come back to him, broken and disillusioned and desperate to be loved and comforted. Honestly hoped that Nash would taste failure so bitter that he would never try to leave, ever again.
He said I hate you, because he did.
He honestly hated the man looking at him with unbearable pain in his sad blue eyes. Honestly hated the apathetic sagging of Nash's shoulders, the defeat they bore on them. Honestly hated the mumbled apologies he heard coming from Nash's mouth, barely audible and hardly sincere.
Hated the sight of Nash's back, turned to him. The sound of the door closing behind his lover, leaving him alone and broken and wretched.
Again.
~*~*~*~
On this night, John holds Nash in his arms and says things he's wanted to say, ever since that night.
He says Nash, open your eyes, because he desperately wants him to. Desperately wants him to see that he's not alone, that he's not been abandoned. Desperately wants him to see that he's safe now, that he's got someone looking after him. Desperately wants him to know who's with him. Whose arms he feels, scooping him up. Whose chin he's tucking his head beneath.
He says Nash, speak to me, because he desperately wants him to. Desperately wants to hear Nash's voice, reassuring him that he's still conscious, still lucid. Desperately wants to hear Nash's words, telling him where it hurts and why, telling him what he can do to make it better. Desperately wants to hear Nash's voice saying his name. Asking for the help John is eager to give. Asking for words of comfort John would gladly speak.
He says Nash, stay with me, because he desperately wants him to. Desperately wants the past to be nothing but a bad dream, Nash staying with him and loving him, content with what John has to offer him. Desperately wants the shudders he can feel, wracking his lover's painfully thin body to be nothing but his imagination, nothing but a shiver in the evening chill. Desperately wants Nash to live, to survive and recover and live, because it's never before felt so real that he could truly lose the man he loves, and lose him to something other than Alchemy and fame and distance and stubborn male pride.
He kicks open the front door and carries Nash into his bedroom, lies the man down on the bed he's slept in alone far more often than he'd care to admit, and touches Nash's cheek, whispers to him until Nash opens his eyes.
"Nash," he says, "can you hear me?"
Nash smiles weakly and nods. He doesn't speak, but his hand finds one of John's and squeezes.
"You need a doctor, Nash," John says. "I'm going to go and call for one."
Another nod. Another squeeze.
"I won't be long," John says. "I promise."
Nothing. Nash's breath rattles.
John swallows hard around panic rising like bile in his throat, bitter and terrifying. He kisses Nash's fingers and rises to his feet, watching just long enough to reassure himself that his lover has drawn another breath, wet and labored between horribly chapped lips.
Time is running out, he doesn't want to think. He'll die if you don't go and get a doctor for him. Go, go now.
He frowns and rises to his feet, hands curled into fists as he says the one thing he's not said to his lover nearly recently enough, the only thing that he can think of that would be worth delaying him.
Nash's eyelids flutter. Not much of an answer, but more than enough to satisfy John.
"Be here when I return," he whispers, as the front door closes behind him, his own footsteps deafeningly loud as he runs towards town.
I'll never forgive myself if you're not.