Title: Again
A/N: This is a cross-over between FMA and a chinese FMA fan-game BlueBirds Illusion. On one of its multiple endings Ed is turned into Pride. The fic below was written for a challenge: pairing PridexEd, words pistol, underwear and belly-button.Pride's POV
Wanring: this is sort of shounen ai. If even slightest mentioning of some feelings male characters can have towards each other peeves you, don't read.
Pain.
Blood.
Darkness.
These terrifying words are nothing but pointless letters to me.
What is pain? Aching tingling somewhere in your body? Or a bolt striking you chest, yourvery heart? What is the difference between pain physical and pain imaginative, when you know that those painful moments are none but illusion of your sleeping body? I know what pain is. It is when someone loved by you experiences pain. It hurts the most.
What is blood? Liquid, rushing through you to bring life for every single cell? Or red curse on your hands, curse, that have flown out of somebody with his last breath? What is the difference between the real blood and the one you see in your dreams every single time you sleep? I know what blood is. It is the blood the one loved by you coughs out. That blood is the hottest.
Darkness. I know what it is, there's no need to ask. Darkness – is that thick wool blanket covering my conscious to return me to the teary world I truly belong to. Darkness – is that smileless woman that comes to guide me to the teary world I belong to. Darkness – is the teary world I belong to, world full of pain and blood. And also – darkness is my blonde mirror, my fleshy twin, my automail brother, my love and my curse.
Edward. I hate the world you belong to. It hurts me, it brings back memories I don't want to hold inside anymore. But every night I fall asleep just to see you one more time. To see you from a distance. To stalk you for several moments. To come closer. To touch your hair and see you turning around. To watch your face turning into grimace of hate: 'Envy!'. To kiss your fingers slightly and hear your voice trembling with relief:
"You have come again, Pride".
To see you dying right in front of me, to feel your hot blood on my skin and your pain inside my own body.
To kiss you, kiss passionately and hungry, kiss you in the way I never dared whenif you were alive.
How come? What I did wrong? When I crossed the line I shouldn't have?
I don't know. And I, actually, don't care. I'm happy the way I am, able to see him one more time, even in a dream. Who is he, that Edward, that person, who looks exactly like me? Somewhere deep inside I must know the answer, otherwise it wouldn't hurt me so much to see him. See him…
How come? I just crossed the line I shouldn't have.
Envy, Lust, … father. I can't stand to see them all anymore.
Grandfatheris interestedin me, like I'm some unusual insect, he wants me to do something outrageous – but what? I don't know. He tortures me – figuratively – to get that 'something' out of me, but fails anyway. He gets angry and tortures me again… literarily.
Lust lusts for me. Maybe I remind her someone she loved long ago, but that woman stalks me almost everywhere!
Envy envies me. He wants the attention grandfather pays to me – I'd love to present that attention to him, wrapped as a birthday gift. And I suspect he lusts for me too, exactly like Lust, although I don't really get what he means by that.
Anyway, being in touch with them is really annoying. I try to get away from them, to hide. Spend time in long-forgotten corridors, rarely coming out to be seen by them – or worry will make them search for me and, maybe, find.
And then it happens.
I wish to get away and fall asleep, but when I wake up, suddenly, I find myself in a completely different place. Something unusual and familiar at the same time – I'm sleeping in an armchair with a book on my lap. I still can't understand what is going on, when the door bursts open and someone almost naked, wearing only white underwear, storms in the room, slamming it behind. For three long moments that strangergazes his belly button without noticing my presence. I am feared, but a strange uncontrolled realization makes me stand up to get better look of him. The bookfalls with loud slam and he then looks up, ready for… what? – and we see each other's faces.
A mirror. A twin. My doubled self. The prettiest person I have ever seen. I can't fully understand my intensions, when I unconsciouslytake a stepto come closer, but He steps back for a second and then his – mine – face gets cold and hateful and he shots a single word:
'Envy!'
I freeze. He knows Envy? How come? A person, who looks exactly like me, knows my brother Envy?
But I don't have time to think it over – He points a pistol (when and from where did he get it? I didn't notice) at me and shoots without warning. Pain strikes my stomach
'Why… you?'
Then I wake up.
We've met a thousand of times – till he died. I saw his – mine – ours face changing, saw our hair getting white, saw his automail limbs rusting. He never got married, although his brother – someone named Aru (never saw him, though) did. Edward never talked to me about Envy or Lust or grandfather, never told me about himself and his brother (except random information), but I'm sure, he knew everything. But I never asked – since he told me not to. I was happy, both of us were happy. Together. We've never did anything of the sort Envy once asked me to do – I understood then what his lust for me meant. I can't say that sounded SO filthy. But not with Edward. He was some sort of a saint person to me. Pure. Once I came to see him – and found him dying. He had bronchia or else of this sort and he was coughing blood. He didn't have power to raise his automail hand, but he raised the other and touched my lips slightly, almost letting me kiss his fingers. And with his last words he coughed blood and died.
I will never forget these words.
'You have come again, Pride'.
I'm lost between the realities – or between the illusions of realities? Every time I close my eyes I see his – mine – our face and regret we've never done anything of the sort Envy once suggested. I can't even be sure he'd deny that suggestion. But we were the one, always. And we will be.
And when I close my eyes, which happens more and more often, I can see him again, young, perfect. I kiss his fingers then and hug him. And he hugs me back saying with relief:
'You have come again, Pride'.
Something happens. Deep inside, somewhere where my heart is to be. I feel pain so strong that can't keep silent. I cry and this is the cry of happiness. And then I say the words he didn't hear from me then:
'Of course I did, Edward. Because I love you'.
And then I kiss him, kiss passionately and hungry, kiss him the way I never dared when he was alive.
I want to die one day – and meet him. Who knows? Maybe it's possible. And then, maybe, I'll try to kiss him again. And receive a kiss back.
