Auslösen
Title: Auslösen
Rating: PG? (Yeah, y'all know the deal. If it's not porn, I don't know how to rate it O_<;)
Type: Angst, drabble
Pairings: Implied Hei/Ed
Warnings: The aaaangst, fear it.
A/N: Angsty Blysse begets angsty fanfic? Inspired by this piece of fanart. ... and my imagination ignoring what that article of clothing really is. >>;
~~~;~;~;~;~;~;~;~~~
Edward pulls away from the wall behind him and kicks at the sheets that still linger at the foot of the bed. He's been sitting there all night, but hasn't slept at all. His tired gaze lifts to the window.
Crystalline blue, just like--
His eyes, normally bright gold, are dimmed, the usual light within them having faded hours ago. He stares outside for a few seconds, his body perfectly still before something within him snaps.
Pale, because--
The color in his face fades almost to white and he quickly turns his head to look at the shirt in his hands instead. Slowly, Ed's back bows out and he curls in on himself. Flesh fingers bunch in the fabric of the shirt; he forces his false hand not to tighten into a fist, he doesn't want to risk tearing the cloth.
That familiar sound, ragged--
Ed's breathing hitches. He buries his face in the shirt, trying to take in slower breaths, but each time he tries, the air--the scent--gets caught in his throat. After struggling to get a full breath into his lungs, Edward finally lies down, still not releasing his hold on the cloth in his hands.
Just stay--
Relaxed, or as close to it as Edward can manage, he turns over, his back to the doorway and his eyes on the wall; he knows better than to lift his gaze to the window again.
Burning, each breath--
Why does it hurt so much? Ed can't convince himself that it's just because he loves the boy, that he's lost the one closest to him. He knows that it wouldn't hurt nearly as much if he didn't look like--
“Brother?” comes a soft voice, the worried tone carrying easily through the silence of Edward's bedroom.
Ed says nothing, he doesn't even move or nod to acknowledge that he's heard Alphonse. A few seconds later, the bed dips lower and Ed feels arms wrapping around his waist. He closes his eyes, almost shaking for a moment before he calms down. As long as Alphonse stays quiet, then maybe he can pretend...
Warmth against his body and gentle breaths finally ease Edward into a light sleep. His body relaxes, but his hand still clutches at the shirt, refusing to let go even when he's not awake.
“Alfons...”
Rating: PG? (Yeah, y'all know the deal. If it's not porn, I don't know how to rate it O_<;)
Type: Angst, drabble
Pairings: Implied Hei/Ed
Warnings: The aaaangst, fear it.
A/N: Angsty Blysse begets angsty fanfic? Inspired by this piece of fanart. ... and my imagination ignoring what that article of clothing really is. >>;
~~~;~;~;~;~;~;~;~~~
Edward pulls away from the wall behind him and kicks at the sheets that still linger at the foot of the bed. He's been sitting there all night, but hasn't slept at all. His tired gaze lifts to the window.
Crystalline blue, just like--
His eyes, normally bright gold, are dimmed, the usual light within them having faded hours ago. He stares outside for a few seconds, his body perfectly still before something within him snaps.
Pale, because--
The color in his face fades almost to white and he quickly turns his head to look at the shirt in his hands instead. Slowly, Ed's back bows out and he curls in on himself. Flesh fingers bunch in the fabric of the shirt; he forces his false hand not to tighten into a fist, he doesn't want to risk tearing the cloth.
That familiar sound, ragged--
Ed's breathing hitches. He buries his face in the shirt, trying to take in slower breaths, but each time he tries, the air--the scent--gets caught in his throat. After struggling to get a full breath into his lungs, Edward finally lies down, still not releasing his hold on the cloth in his hands.
Just stay--
Relaxed, or as close to it as Edward can manage, he turns over, his back to the doorway and his eyes on the wall; he knows better than to lift his gaze to the window again.
Burning, each breath--
Why does it hurt so much? Ed can't convince himself that it's just because he loves the boy, that he's lost the one closest to him. He knows that it wouldn't hurt nearly as much if he didn't look like--
“Brother?” comes a soft voice, the worried tone carrying easily through the silence of Edward's bedroom.
Ed says nothing, he doesn't even move or nod to acknowledge that he's heard Alphonse. A few seconds later, the bed dips lower and Ed feels arms wrapping around his waist. He closes his eyes, almost shaking for a moment before he calms down. As long as Alphonse stays quiet, then maybe he can pretend...
Warmth against his body and gentle breaths finally ease Edward into a light sleep. His body relaxes, but his hand still clutches at the shirt, refusing to let go even when he's not awake.
“Alfons...”