Posted: July 20, 2006
Disclaimer: I do not own anything Fullmetal Alchemist related.
Note: This is written for 11 reasons at live journal (link can be found in my communities list on the profile of my homepage). The point of this community is to write 11 reasons for a general theme of your choice. Each reason must adhere to a certain theme that is chosen from a table of themes.
11 REASONS GENERAL THEME: 11 Reasons They Can Never Be Truly Happy
TITLE: Nothing More Than A Lie
Theme: Rain
Summary: Simplicity is a tantalizing ideal that Edward has learned not to trust. Roy/Ed
Nothing More Than A Lie
Rain. It is the backbone of simplicity within a world that writhes in complications.
And yet, Ed thinks as he watches the glassy substance glide down the windowpane, that isn't the truth.
A wry smile finds its way to the boy's lips and he considers this 'truth'.
Truth. There is no such thing as an absolute truth. Every reality is bogged down by ambiguities that undermine the very structure of its existence.
For example, as the rain slides down the window, it chooses a winding, complex path and slows; seeming to struggle past an invisible hardship, then speeds up - ostensibly out of nowhere - and continues sliding down the glass in an uneven pattern that even a genius cannot predict.
Then again, perhaps geniuses are unable to comprehend simplicity because it is not in their nature to do so.
A cold metal finger drags along the glass, creating a sharp scratching noise, and the owner of the automail draws in a breath. He watches the grey world beyond the glass with hooded eyes that reveal nothing and yet so much at the same time.
Simplicity is a mere illusion, he decides.
It has to be.
The pressure of his finger upon the glass intensifies and the boy revels in the noise he is creating as he leaves his mark upon the perfect surface, much as he has left his mark upon numerous other seemingly perfect surfaces.
Amusement glints in the alchemist's eyes as a cold rush of air toys with his long red coat. He hears the nearly noiseless click of a door closing and refuses to turn.
"Fullmetal," a listless voice drawls from the doorway to the room. Ed relaxes minutely and stares at the reflection of the man upon the glass. Black obsidian eyes gaze back at him with a hard expression.
"Colonel," Edward greets with a nostalgic smile.
If life had been simple, then perhaps the one called Fullmetal would not be faced with the greatest temptation he has ever known.
The soft sound of boots on carpet alert Edward to the Colonel's advance and he lets his eyes wander from the reflection back to the torrent that is drowning the world beyond the glass.
The sky is grey and forlorn as are the streets and buildings. Usually vibrant colours are washed over and left with a faded, somber imitation of what was once the truth. Edward shifts and tries to piece together all of life's sadistic little miseries in one go. Of course, he knows such a feat is impossible. Life is cruel, and hence its 'sadistic little miseries', as he called them, are innumerable.
He can feel the Colonel's warmth now as the man stops behind him. His body is so close they are almost touching. The older man's touch had always been enough to bring Edward to his knees and send a rapidly burning fire scorching through the youth's body, leaving him gasping for air and exhausted.
Edward leans back slightly, longing for the sensation of this man's touch, but the Colonel matches his movement, denying the blonde his one true craving. It is infuriating to know that one's greatest desire is tantalizingly close and still unattainable.
The boy shakes his head, ridding himself of such delusional thoughts. Then he lays his normal hand upon the glass, reveling in the coolness that sears through his arm and murmurs, "I've heard rumors that you're useless in the rain, Colonel."
Edward grins when his comment is received with a soft snort and a hand - gloved in scratchy material - pressing upon his own, heating the chilled appendage.
The blonde stares at their hands, reveling in the simplicity of it. One is white with a fancy design upon its back while the other is soft and the colour of flesh. They are not extraordinary in the least. They are two hands pressed together against a window, which is spattered in an infinite number of raindrops.
If you were to strip the people that owned these hands of all titles and pretenses, you would simply have two men.
They are nothing more than two men.
But it has to be complicated; Edward realizes as the Colonel's nose brushes against his neck and inhales the blonde youth's scent. He feels the hairs on his neck raise and the boy lifts his shoulders in consent, letting out a comfortable sigh.
The Colonel gently kisses him and wraps his other arm - the one not plastered against the window - around the boy's body then pulls him closer, until they are flush against each other.
Nothing more than two men holding each other in an office building on a rainy evening.
Another kiss delicately brushes Edward's milky skin and he lets out a soft murmur of approval as the lips upon his shoulder remain, indulging in whatever heavenly flavour they are experiencing.
The boy swallows around the growing lump in his throat and tries not to complicate - or think about - what is happening. His fingers flex against the glass and he drops his head, allowing strands of blonde hair to shadow his closed eyes. They are clenched shut.
This is what he wants.
Edward listens to the pounding rain and turns in the Colonel's grasp, until they are facing one another. Their faces are so close that each can taste the other's breath. It is intoxicating and delicious and oh so wrong and both men know it.
Nothing more than two men acting out on the primal instincts that have been suppressed for far too long.
Ed leans forward, his lips clumsily - desperately - brushing the Colonel's. Though he had been prepared to pull away quickly, simply experience a sample of his most desired sin, the boy finds that he cannot move. He realizes this only when the lips beneath his own shift into a smirk.
The Colonel kisses back - light and feathery - before slowly pulling away. Both men's eyes are closed when the older of the two stops the progress. For a moment after they have committed this pleasurable transgression, neither can breathe, and, when they finally can, the Colonel is indulging in a smug smirk. He seems to be holding his self-control above the other boy's head as he realizes that Edward is incapable of movement.
"I can assure you Fullmetal, I am never useless, least of all in the rain," he says. His voice is self-assured and arrogant and purely Roy Mustang.
Edward feels his eyes narrow angrily as his body pulls him closer to the man and delights in the contact he has been deprived of for so long. He hates that he wants this, and he hates that he can't have this no matter how hard he works.
Nothing more than two men deceiving their inner most desires for the good of everyone else.
Edward opens his mouth, trying to find words that can pierce through the intimacy of the moment, but he finds none.
His arms wrap around the Colonel, settling in the small of the man's back and he tries to smile despite the bittersweet tension of the moment. The facial expression comes off as strained, for nothing can hide the desolate pain and yearning in his eyes.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" Roy kisses the Fullmetal Alchemist's softly - forced - smiling lips and gently unwinds the boy's arms from his body, stepping away. His expression is tender for a moment and he seems to be apologizing for the years full of pain he has plagued and will continue to plague the other boy with; then he turns to shuffle through a stack of papers on his desk, distant and professional.
It is as if he is refusing to hurt the boy even more by taunting him with glimpses of what he can never have.
"I know you hate the rain," Edward says as means of explanation and glances back at the window, his eyes glazing over in thought. He misses the way the Colonel blinks, confused.
"Hm?" The man continues his task with the papers while he watches the Fullmetal Alchemist with an endearing expression of bemusement.
"You asked why I was here," Edward clarifies, "it's because I know you hate the rain."
The truth is never simple, he thinks as he refuses to look at the man behind him who is all contrasts in darks and lights. He wants Roy - God does he want him - but he has duties to his brother as well as his deceased mother that come before his own happiness, and Roy has duties to the country that he will never abandon.
Nothing more than two men with children's hearts and needs that refuse to allow themselves these comforts with half-hearted excuses.
The Colonel stops shuffling through the papers and surveys his protégé blankly. "Did you hear this from me, about the rain?"
"I…" Ed stops and realizes that he has never heard the Colonel say any such thing. "No."
"Then how can you be so certain that it is a truth?" the dark-haired man asks, stepping around the desk and heading for the door.
Edward feels his heart beat faster as he considers his malice for the truth. The truth ruined his childhood long ago and stole his brother's body from him. The truth is deceptive in its illusory simplicity.
"I can't," Edward replies, his voice flat - almost sulky - as he watches the Colonel place a gloved hand upon the doorknob.
The Colonel - Roy - smiles at Edward and opens the door. "I expect you to correct the scratch marks you've left on my window, Fullmetal," he says and leaves the room, closing the door with a silent click behind him. A cold rush of air ruffles the blonde's long flowing jacket and he frowns.
Nothing more than two men running from the truth.
With little thought, Edward claps his hands together and places them upon the glass surface of the window, which he has not strayed far from, reforming it with a small blue glow and a desolate expression.
The rain slides down the window, leaving behind a trail of inky clearness that distorts the world beyond the glass. Edward clenches his teeth and tries to convince himself that what just happened was not a distortion of the truth, but a reality that may one day stop running away from him with determination.
Edward Elric shakes his head, blonde hair whipping back and forth in the intensity of his movement, then leans his forehead upon the cool pane of glass before him.
Nothing more than a lie.
.:Fin:.
AN: I love long reviews that tell my what I can improve on, or even that just specify what works and what was enjoyed, because it gives me an idea of what I can spend some more time working on.
-TJ