My FIRST HyuRoi
This is part of a fanfiction that will never be finished that was to be called "Firefly". It'd be a three-part series of oneshots that were broken up into segments telling tiny stories/snapshots that added up to tell a story. The sequel was to be called "Salamander", and the final would be called "Phoenix". "Firefly" WOULD have been their relationship told out-of-order from their first meeting to their becoming "involved" to Maes dumping him for Gracia. "Salamander" would cover things from that point up until his death. "Phoenix" would cover from his death to the resolution.
This was supposed to just be a "stand alone" fic called "First Love", but I planned a bunch of shit for it that just will not happen. I haven't edited anything from it. Bear in mind - it's, I'd guess, over two years old and has not been edited. ...That being said, see how much I've DECLINED in my ability to write them since then. xDDD This is just the very beginning.
The last kiss had tasted bitter. The sad flavor seemed to tie in the feeling with the physical sensation; gin and tobacco parted ways to allow for a third aroma, one that Maes carried with him at all times as his own. But this time was different - their passion, what remained of it, seemed to burn with a cold flame. Sadness, hope and beginnings tied into what could only be described as the taste of goodbye.
Water. Salt. There was salt, too. It had to rain. Something needed to wash away the reminiscence the moment left him with - the knowledge that he’d carry bittersweet memories he’d wished he’d never had.
No, it hadn’t been a clean break like Maes intended. The man carried a reminder on his smile, and the occasional, gentle reminder against his lips, carrying that same aroma - the reminder that in the back of their minds, somewhere, they were free to be the way they were supposed to be. Supposed to, but never meant to.
--Whispering for Help--
“Roy,” came the toneless whisper. Golden eyes, seeming to reflect the greenish tinge of the liquid in his glass searched - patient but demanding.
“Roy,” he choked, more urgently this time. The man in front of him growled angrily and forcefully set his drink down on the glass table laid out in front of him.
“What do you want, Maes? I’m tired.”
“C’mon, old friend, you think I don’t know all your tricks? Having someone to talk to is too great a blessing to dismiss with a less-than-adequate excuse, if you ask me,” Maes said with a carefree shrug.
Roy’s next growl broke midway into a sigh. “Fine. I’m listless and likely in for another sleepless night. You know everything about me and can always nitpick my habits until I conform to your way of doing things. You’re always right. Now what do you want?”
Maes Hughes had the kind of smile you’d deck someone for. “You’ve been like a wet blanket around here, Roy. I’m worried about you.”
“What else is new?” Mustang grumbled as he took another swallow of his drink.
“C’mon, you can’t keep this up forever. The past is the past. Its time to move forward. Stop bumming around with that unwarranted sense of accomplishment you get from destroying yourself and get your ass up!”
“Having a drink away from the rest of you without the constant annoyance of question after question is hardly destroying myself, Maes.”
The man’s smile receded slightly. “We’re best friends, aren’t we? So why avoid me?”
The Flame Alchemist had gone from avoiding to ignoring, and merely glanced into the murky depths of his glass as though gazing into something fascinating enough to distract his attention.
He almost jumped as his comrade clapped him on the shoulder.
“It’s not enough for you, is it?” Hughes whispered, leaning closer. Roy shivered at the sensation of the man’s breath against his ear, and something inside him hungered for the warmth of his best friend’s touch. Compared with the heat radiating off of Maes’s body, emptiness and solitude were hardly an escape.
“I’ve told you I’d work under you, push you to the top… You’re still here, still thinking that the further down you go, the more you make up for your sins on the battlefield. It won’t do, Roy. I’m pushing you to the top, not letting you sink in your own self-pity. This isn’t like you; I’m in investigations for a reason, and I know damn well you’re far above this.”
Roy didn’t answer, still staring down into the depths of his glass. “I don’t know, Maes. I still need time to think this whole thing through. Soldiers’ lives were broken on that battlefield, and their physical life was all they had left intact. I shouldn’t be wasting my luck.” Sighing, Mustang relaxed, unashamed, into the other man’s arms.
A smile. “You haven’t slept in a while, have you?”
No response.
“If it’s not enough for me to be your best friend…”
Roy gasped at the feather-light touch of the Lieutenant’s lips against his forehead.
“I’ll be your world.” He said with a smile that could have melted Roy.
The surprise faded, and a chuckle escaped the Major’s chapped lips. “Idiot. You already are…” He whispered before claiming his best friend’s lips in a gentle confirmation.
This was supposed to just be a "stand alone" fic called "First Love", but I planned a bunch of shit for it that just will not happen. I haven't edited anything from it. Bear in mind - it's, I'd guess, over two years old and has not been edited. ...That being said, see how much I've DECLINED in my ability to write them since then. xDDD This is just the very beginning.
The last kiss had tasted bitter. The sad flavor seemed to tie in the feeling with the physical sensation; gin and tobacco parted ways to allow for a third aroma, one that Maes carried with him at all times as his own. But this time was different - their passion, what remained of it, seemed to burn with a cold flame. Sadness, hope and beginnings tied into what could only be described as the taste of goodbye.
Water. Salt. There was salt, too. It had to rain. Something needed to wash away the reminiscence the moment left him with - the knowledge that he’d carry bittersweet memories he’d wished he’d never had.
No, it hadn’t been a clean break like Maes intended. The man carried a reminder on his smile, and the occasional, gentle reminder against his lips, carrying that same aroma - the reminder that in the back of their minds, somewhere, they were free to be the way they were supposed to be. Supposed to, but never meant to.
--Whispering for Help--
“Roy,” came the toneless whisper. Golden eyes, seeming to reflect the greenish tinge of the liquid in his glass searched - patient but demanding.
“Roy,” he choked, more urgently this time. The man in front of him growled angrily and forcefully set his drink down on the glass table laid out in front of him.
“What do you want, Maes? I’m tired.”
“C’mon, old friend, you think I don’t know all your tricks? Having someone to talk to is too great a blessing to dismiss with a less-than-adequate excuse, if you ask me,” Maes said with a carefree shrug.
Roy’s next growl broke midway into a sigh. “Fine. I’m listless and likely in for another sleepless night. You know everything about me and can always nitpick my habits until I conform to your way of doing things. You’re always right. Now what do you want?”
Maes Hughes had the kind of smile you’d deck someone for. “You’ve been like a wet blanket around here, Roy. I’m worried about you.”
“What else is new?” Mustang grumbled as he took another swallow of his drink.
“C’mon, you can’t keep this up forever. The past is the past. Its time to move forward. Stop bumming around with that unwarranted sense of accomplishment you get from destroying yourself and get your ass up!”
“Having a drink away from the rest of you without the constant annoyance of question after question is hardly destroying myself, Maes.”
The man’s smile receded slightly. “We’re best friends, aren’t we? So why avoid me?”
The Flame Alchemist had gone from avoiding to ignoring, and merely glanced into the murky depths of his glass as though gazing into something fascinating enough to distract his attention.
He almost jumped as his comrade clapped him on the shoulder.
“It’s not enough for you, is it?” Hughes whispered, leaning closer. Roy shivered at the sensation of the man’s breath against his ear, and something inside him hungered for the warmth of his best friend’s touch. Compared with the heat radiating off of Maes’s body, emptiness and solitude were hardly an escape.
“I’ve told you I’d work under you, push you to the top… You’re still here, still thinking that the further down you go, the more you make up for your sins on the battlefield. It won’t do, Roy. I’m pushing you to the top, not letting you sink in your own self-pity. This isn’t like you; I’m in investigations for a reason, and I know damn well you’re far above this.”
Roy didn’t answer, still staring down into the depths of his glass. “I don’t know, Maes. I still need time to think this whole thing through. Soldiers’ lives were broken on that battlefield, and their physical life was all they had left intact. I shouldn’t be wasting my luck.” Sighing, Mustang relaxed, unashamed, into the other man’s arms.
A smile. “You haven’t slept in a while, have you?”
No response.
“If it’s not enough for me to be your best friend…”
Roy gasped at the feather-light touch of the Lieutenant’s lips against his forehead.
“I’ll be your world.” He said with a smile that could have melted Roy.
The surprise faded, and a chuckle escaped the Major’s chapped lips. “Idiot. You already are…” He whispered before claiming his best friend’s lips in a gentle confirmation.