Z/N: I blame my creative writing class and my creative writing teacher…damn it all.
Disclaimer: Don't own it darling, and I never will. Applies throughout all chapters.
Warnings: AU, shonen-ai/yaoi…other confusing things…being open-minded would be the best choice diving into this fic.
Crazy/Beautiful
Chapter 1: Wish
He lived in a world of blackening hearts and slinking shadows.
All that he could see from the optics the unusual (haunting) blank shade of amber/honey/coppery gold was death, soul-grasping sorrow (tearing the spirit until it was no more), and the vicious cycle that was the divine comedy of life (always with a miserable ending, always…)
His mother was terribly beautiful. She died when he was born. The irony was cruel. There were times in which he could feel her spirit trying to steal the air from his lungs, kill him for killing her; equivalent exchange.
He was smoking by the age of six, raped multiple times by seven, and shooting up by eight. Numbers now seemed trivial. He had forgotten his age a long time ago although a good guess would have been around seventeen to eighteen. Numbers were inconsequential little bastards trying to devour up all the time, like tiny black insects (like the vampires who feasted on his blood).
Edward Elric knew that there was just more to life than death, school reading (although he had fallen in love with Holden Caulfield), the SATS and peer pressure.
There were angels with girl faces, the full pouty lips of a man, and girlish bodies and yet completely genderless; there was cotton candy the color of mauve, there were such things as magic, and there were most definitely glossy black wings on the back of crazy junkies, not to mention big-breasted mermaids on the shores of Widow's Beach with shining pink and lime green scales attached to their swishy tails.
But no one else saw the world the way he did. They claimed the drugs fucked with his mind, that he needed to put locked up and psychoanalyzed and asked questions like, "Was it because your daddy touched you at night?"
They could only see in black and white like the old picture movies that still played at the old theater where he liked to sit the cool darkness and jack off to the flickering pictures of call girls smoking those long cigarettes, silvery wisps elegantly floating from their thin red-painted lips. Edward was use to being the only one who could see past their phoniness, lies and insecurities, but all that changed one day when he saw a broken angel smoking at a street corner.
The angel's hair was tinted green, his eyes lilac and his skin as white as snow. When Edward narrowed his eyes to study him even more, the blonde noticed that there was also a pair of wings on his back. The last white feather had been blown off into the wind and now his wings were a shade of dishwater grey.
"Pretty angel," he murmured as he walked over to him, his finger trailing along the smooth surface of his face, "why are you wings grey?"
The angel was startled; he took a few steps back, his eyes switched over from forlorn to guarded. He held the thin cancer stick in his equally thin fingers, "How can you tell, you're just a mere human."
"…A lot of people call me crazy. My name is Ed."
"I don't have a name, Ed."
Edward frowned at this, "You poor angel, without a name you have no identification, no place in the world…but tell me why are you on this Earth, visible, filling your heavenly lungs with wretched poison, tell me pretty angel…" His voice had hushed into a whisper, his face pressed against the angel's chest.
"I'm tired of being not human. I envy you all."
"I'm tired of being human. I envy your wings pretty angel. I can hear your insides, they're all weeping. Your heart cries from that poison…" The angel shrugged lightly at this, "I don't care anymore." He then inhaled and exhaled, "go on with your life human, you don't understand anything."
Edward smiled a smile that bordered on the edge of tearing the flesh off of his face, "But can't you see? I can see things, I know things, and they say I'm crazy but I know I'm not…and you're so beautiful I can almost…almost…"
He stood upon his tippy-toes and leaned forward, long eyelashes fluttering slightly, "Kiss you…if I kiss can I make a wish? Will it come true?" The angel noticed that his breath held the scent of vanilla. It unnerved him, this unstable human boy…
"I…I don't know. Perhaps...magic still lingers in me…" Edward came even closer, "Then I wish that you could give me every wish I ask for…" The distance closed between them and their lips met, an electric shock traveled throughout both of their bodies, the angel's lips were warm and delicious, Edward wanted more, moremoremoremoremore so much more that he probed his tongue in and pressed his hands against the angel's shoulder, dipping into the blazing heat of his mouth, saliva that ran sweet, reminiscent of honey until the blonde could take no more and pulled away, panting heavily.
Time around them had gone still, the bird stuck in mid-air, the woman inches from the bus that was destined to take her life away just as soon as time unfroze.
"…Let's go on an escapade Envy," he said, the words thick on his tongue. The angel raised an eyebrow, "…Envy?"
"Yes because you envy my humanity and the fact that you have fallen from God's grace…the fact that you've sinned pretty angel…"
"I'm not an angel anymore, stop calling me that…call me by Envy then. It had a good ring to it." Edward smiled as he looked toward the sky, "…And by the end of our escapade, we're going to be kissing the sun, kiss it so hard that it burns our skin off and roasts the meat under…" he giggled slightly and Envy decided that Edward was indeed insane, but he still liked him all the same.
The woman's hot blood splashed onto the black pavement.
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Z/N: Holden Caulfield and 'phoniness' are both trademarks of the novel The Catcher in the Rye. Great novel, a classic once you actually get the theme of the entire story. Not sure where this is going, but reviews might make me update fast, so if you like (or hate) please read and review.
Ja ne!