empty rooms and the absence of your breathing
title: empty rooms and the absence of your breathing
pairing: Alfons/Ed. With a passing reference to onesided Ed/someone else- I'm still not sure who it's meant to be.
length: 338 words.
warnings: Yaoi (duh) and swearing. I don't think Ed's exactly sober in the last few notes. |D
a/n: Did Germany have a drinking age back then? Also, this sucks so badly and I'm sorry. I got plot-bunnied.
(written on a series of notes slid under a hotel door somewhere in Munich)
Dear
To:
You:
Dear Alfons,
Just come back, damn it.
Alfons,
I've been knocking on the door for the past hour and a half. Fuck this. I'm going home.
Alfons,
I'm not going to wait out here all night, you know.
Alfons,
I'm sorry. I'm sorry if it was my fault. If I did something... wrong.
I'm not sorry it happened.
For such a smart guy, you really are kind of clueless, you know that? Why do you think I agreed to move in in the first place? What the hell did you think I was doing those nights I invited you out drinking? When I always walked a little closer to you whenever we passed that stupid group of giggling girls outside that one school-
Fuck, this is why I shouldn't write at 3 AM.
Anyway.
Honestly, sometimes you're so dense that I just want to smack you in the face with one of your rocketry books.
I don't blame you at all. There's only so many long silences you can take, lying on opposite sides of the same bed as far away as you can get. I would have done the same thing.
And for those three minutes after you kissed me, I might've actually been happy here.
And then of course you had to run away. What the hell was I supposed to think? I was so- hell, I don't know, despicable or something - that you couldn't even stand the thought of kissing me? And I thought something like I should've known, shouldn't have gotten my hopes up, I'm not even (goddamn these prosthetics) whole-
So of course I pushed you away. Because I'm scared of getting hurt or- something. Like a kicked dog. You're let down once, you spend the rest of your life knowing it'll happen again.
There's something about being in an empty apartment that makes you feel like you're choking.
I don't even know what I'm talking about any more.
Fuck, you'll probably think I'm even more of a freak when you read this. Sorry about that.
Just open the goddamn door.
- Edward
Alfons, please just say s-
(The rest of this note is illegible, dragged into a meaningless, slightly wobbly line, as if the person writing it has just been interrupted. Perhaps by a loud noise or a sudden distraction.
Or perhaps by a door opening in a smoke-filled little hotel in Munich.)