Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, or any related characters.
Edward trembled in anticipation. He didn't want anything to be too cheesy, but he wanted it to be romantic. Sexy, actually. And so, after much deliberation, he simply sat on his and Roy's bed, naked, a sheet draped over him. It made a nice picture, in his mind, him sitting, ready, wrapped in their blankets.
Now, all he had to do was wait for Roy to get home.
He was nervous, sure. He had never had sex with Roy; actually, he had never had sex with anyone. He was a virgin. So this was a new experience for him, and though he knew it was supposed to feel good, he also knew it would hurt. But Ed was okay with that. He was going to be with Roy, and Roy loved him, and it would be fantastic.
Edward took a deep breath, shifted under the sheet, and checked the clock. He laughed at himself, running nervous fingers through his hair—loose, for a change, golden locks spilling about his shoulders. Roy wouldn't be home for another couple hours, and here he was waiting for the man to come and take him.
But then, what was that at the door?
Ed leaned forward, the sound of creaking hinges and then the front door closing reaching his ears. Was Roy home early? Edward smiled contentedly; maybe the man had planned something for him, too, and that's why he was home. It made sense; six months was a pretty long time, especially for someone like Roy, who usually didn't start a committed relationship.
Edward couldn't help but sit a little straighter at the thought, practically glowing. He couldn't describe how happy it made him to know that he had been enough to make Roy settle down. That the womanizer of Central had picked him, only him. That Roy was his boyfriend—soon to be his lover. And now, he was going to give something back to his Roy, give himself away.
His smile faded, weathered by impatience as he realized Roy hadn't entered the room yet. Where was he? Roy always came into the bedroom as soon as he got home. He always took off his heavy jacket and boots, stowing them carefully into his closet. Only after that would Roy go back into the living room, relax, and curl up on the couch with Ed. Even if he was planning something, it wasn't like Roy to ignore such a fundamental part of his routine. So where was he?
Edward sighed, and decided that surprising the man by walking naked into the living room would be a good anniversary gift, too. He blushed; here, in the bedroom, he could at least cover himself with a sheet. Out there, he would be completely bared to Roy. Of course, that would happen in the end anyway, but it was still nerve wracking to walk out, pretend to be confident, try to be sexy when he had never done this before.
Taking a deep breath, Ed stepped lightly off the bed, footfalls cushioned by heavy carpet, quickly glancing in the mirror on the closet doors. His hair was soft, having been brushed carefully, his body toned and tan as always. He was blushing a little, but that was unavoidable. Satisfied, Edward tiptoed out the bedroom door and down the hall, eyes slowly widening as he heard the faint sound of the couch shifting, of heavy breathing. What was Roy doing?
He got to the living room, and froze.
Everything stopped, most of all his heart.
How did he breathe, again?
Help.
Edward sucked in a great breath, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Not wanting to understand, not wanting to see. But he did, the images flashed through his eyes, and after a strange pause, his brain made sense of them. Or at least, as much sense as it could out of the senseless situation.
Roy, on the couch. Roy, panting. Roy, with his jacket thrown carelessly onto the ground and his shirt half unbuttoned.
A brunette boy beneath him. A brunette, moaning Roy's name as he ground himself upward into the man. A brunette. Not a blonde. Not Edward.
Ed was just about certain his heart had exploded. He would look down to his naked chest and see a gaping hole, blood pouring out. Any second now he would collapse, fall to the floor, cease to see and it would be merciful, please let this end this isn't happening this can't be real.
He tried to close his eyes, but he couldn't, couldn't stop taking in the scene.
Roy glanced up, and stopped moving, locking gazes with Edward. He didn't say anything, and his eyes—Ed might have been okay if he at least looked sorry, but he just looked…caught.
Edward spun around, the sounds in his throat fighting to escape but his voice was missing. Pieces of him were dropping everywhere, his lungs, his heart, his voice…
He ran into the bedroom, slamming the door so hard the frame buckled. With shaking hands, he locked the knobs—no, only one knob, but his vision was swimming so badly it was hard to tell, and really, reality wasn't what it used to be.
Immediately turning to the bed, Edward stumbled back as though someone had pushed him. He should be on that bed right now. With Roy. Having the time of his life.
But no, Roy was out there, with another pretty boy, and Edward was forgotten alone in a bedroom that reminded him of his love—
That bed would offer no comfort. Ed settled for the blanket, curling it around himself and making his way to a corner just as his legs gave out. His body was so heavy, everything ached, and there was still that nagging hole where his heart used to be. He heard a pounding on the bedroom door, faint, as though miles away. He ignored it.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
The blanket smelled like Roy, and never had a scent been so painful. It cut at Edward, tracing lines of blood along his naked body. Shivering, Ed curled into himself, into a ball, shut it all out please let this nightmare end.
And he was drowning, drowning, water leaking from his eyes to cover the floor, to rise to the ceiling, and he couldn't breathe for his own tears. And Roy's face floated in front of him, not sorry, not regretful, just carrying that oh-shit expression of someone caught doing something they shouldn't be doing.
There was no love in his eyes.
Edward let out a sob—bubbles floated through his ocean, why was this happening wasn't he dead yet how could he still be breathing when the world had just collapsed—and covered his head with the blanket.
What is it with me and the angst lately ;A;
Just a little idea that came to me, more of a drabble than anything.
Should I leave it here, or make a second chapter where Roy tries to fix things? Please review and let me know!
Also, song for this: Stay with Me by Danity Kane. The words don't fit as well as they could, but the mood I get does. *shrug* Might not be the case for you.
