but i'm not who I used to be
HOW DID PRIYANKA EVEN GET ME TO WRITE ROY/ED
I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS.
title: mirror mirror
pairing: Alter!Roy/Ed. That is to say, it's the movieverse version of Roy, who's pretty much like him. Past Roy/Ed. Maaaaybe past Alfons/Ed if you squint really hard.
words: 678
warnings: Fail? Yaoi? Possible OOC-ness*?
a/n: Weirdly enough, this started out as a discussion about Vocaloid.
* I can't write awesomely snarky dialogue, so I kept most of that offscreen, and movie!Ed's calmed down a bit since the anime, really. He's quieter and a bit more cautious with people. I dunno, I like interpreting characters my own way and it usually fails.
At first you think it's just a coincidence. There are lots of black-haired, dark-eyed men in the world, both this one and your own. Just because you mistake him for- it doesn't mean anything. They're not the same. He's not the person you used to know (and fight with, and sometimes hate, and end up slowly making amends with after a week of pointedly avoiding looking at eachother unless the other wasn't looking-) it doesn't mean anything, they don't even look that much alike, stop fooling yourself.
It doesn't mean anything when he stops you in the hallway at the university and asks you if maybe you'd like to talk after work, and to go over a theory he's been thinking of about something you don't remember and never mattered anyway. It doesn't mean a thing that you spend the rest of the day conversing over multiple cups of coffee and six hours, firing questions and frowns and half-smiles back and forth like bullets on a battlefield.
It doesn't mean anything he's just a co-worker and they're not the same, they're NOT that the same thing happens the next day.
And the next.
And the day after that.
There are times you forget that he's not the man you once knew, when you have to stop yourself from adding a smirk and a "Colonel" to the end of your sentences, times you have to control yourself and wave to say goodbye, instead of reaching up (it wouldn't be that far now, you think) to grab him by the collar of his shirt and steal one last kiss. But you can't let yourself forget. You might make a mistake.
You might lose this one too.
His hands still feel the same as they rest at your waist, his heart still beats to the same rhythm (/these are things you can't forget, you can never forget no matter how hard you try/) but he's not kissing you now to shut you up or get the best of you (/goddamn smug bastard/), this is something different and unfamiliar and your only reminder that things have changed. Oh, he - the one you knew back home - he could be gentle and caring and... all of that, but only when you weren't arguing about something, which was really hardly ever. But this is different, it's not soft and careful because he's sad or sorry or - anything - maybe people are different here, after all, Alfons i- WASN'T exactly like Al - it's some other reason you can't figure out, and you don't like that, because you don't know why.
So you (regretfully) pull away, and shake off his arms, and ask in your most annoyed voice, "What are you doing?"
You can almost read the disappointment on his face as if it were a book.
You don't even give him time to answer before you're out the door of his apartment, leaving him still standing, staring after you.
(stupid, you're just stupid, you could at least have said something or - explained (yeah right) or just not have done that at all, what the hell is wrong with you-)
A week passes and you walk into his classroom, a little unsure but some part of you's saying you've got to do this. You've got to at least try.
He glances up from the paper he's grading and his eyes narrow the slightest fraction - "What are you doing here?"
You don't want to say apologizing or making up for what an asshole I was to you so you take a deep breath, stare a spot just over his shoulder, and mutter, "Are you busy today? You know, after work."
He doesn't say anything. But when you finally meet his eyes, one corner of his mouth is curled into a very, very familiar sort of half-smirk.
"Are you asking me on a date, Edward?"
You don't answer. Not directly, anyway. "Four o'clock. The cafe on the corner," you say, turning around and leaving.
He'll be there. You'd be willing to bet on it.