Round and round we go [CLOSED LOG]

[virulentfacade]

Who: Envy [virulentfacade] and Zexion [pretexts]
What: Envy's about ten minutes from dying. He needs some help!!!!!!!!
When: Immediately following the end of this log. So Thursday night.
Where: Zexion's cabin.
Warnings: BLOOD. Everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

Comments

[virulentfacade]

Every fiber in Envy's body stiffened. Zexion was touching him. He had his hand at his chest. His hand, so close to his back where those fucking arrays were, could reach them in a second. It wouldn't take much. All Zexion would need to do was shove a knife through them. Not even all of them. Just one of them. That was all it would take and then Envy wouldn't be able to move. He wouldn't be able to muster up any of his remaining energy to get away. It would be all over if they were pierced.

. . . But Zexion wasn't going to do that. Was he?

He's going to kill you. He's going to kill you and you won't be able to stop him because you can't even move. You're pathetic.

Zexion was healing him. There wasn't anything else he could be doing. They were from different worlds with different powers and Zexion wouldn't have
risked bringing him here just to kill him. He wouldn't have risked showing whose side he was on in public; Riza was going to remember. Why would he risk that only to kill Envy here?

No. It didn't make sense. Envy glanced up at him through the fall of his bloodied hair. Zexion didn't look ready to kill him. He knew what killers looked like when they were going to strike. He'd seen it in himself for centuries. But no one ever wanted to help Envy. It was something he was used to. Something that, most days, was funny.

People always wanted to save Ed. Al. The humans.

No one ever wanted to save him.

Envy didn't need to be saved. He didn't fucking need help. He didn't need anything. He could do this on his own.

You need it. You need it or you'll die like the rest. Disgusting. Weak. You're so fucking weak.

It was a struggle--such a fucking struggle--but Envy started pushing himself up by the arm he was laying on. Up. Up. Up to rest on his elbow and the pain was enough to make his vision darken for a split second. This was stupid. He wasn't this fucking weak. He wasn't!

I don't need anybody!

Envy tried pushing the hand at his chest away. It was a sloppy attempt with the arm he wasn't trying to balance his upper-body weight on. In the end he'd probably end up doing nothing but smearing blood on Zexion's stupid glove and his stupid coat but at least he could try. Because if he didn't try then he'd just be some weak little fuck like Mustang.

"A request?" A diversion. Talking could create a diversion so that he could . . . what? He didn't even have the strength to roll away. "You never made one."