Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist

Burst

—xx—

The long white scuffs on the floor symbolized something. Just what it would be was unsure. The black-tiled floors were bespectacled with white and pink and blue flecks, and it appeared as though the nighttime heavens had been captured and placed underneath two white shoes, which, as they dragged their heels against it's surface, added a new shooting star to the never-ending depths of space.

A short, lean blonde desperately wished on each faux star, a different one for each swipe of his recently-shined white dress shoes. Eventually, he grew tired of ruining the flooring in the dressing room and leaned back on his palms. He breathed out a gust of air and spoke. "What am I doin' here?" He wondered aloud. The eldest Elric had solved the gnarliest of puzzles, drawn the most complex arrays, but could not seem to understand how he had come to the point he was at right now. He couldn't seem to understand how he was wearing this uncomfortable white suit, how he was sitting in a dressing room in a church, how he was about to walk out and do something unthinkable with someone… who wasn't right.

That was an understatement—a huge one. To say that Edward Elric loved Jean Havoc was to say that the ocean was yellow or that pigs flew. It was just untrue and not possible. Sure, he liked the blonde well enough. Edward had found solace in venting his troubles and confiding in him over the last year; and the night that he allowed talking to move to kissing to move to touching to end at Havoc's bed should have been the night he fell in love with him—or at least the night that he developed feelings for him. But nothing changed. Jean would, for now and forever, be a friend. As much as it hurt to admit it, Ed' s heart would really only ever belong to one person.

Jean Havoc felt differently. Edward knew that Jean loved him. His sweet smiles and romance made that quite clear. At first, Ed had been flattered. In his time of despair, he had welcomed Havoc's gestures of pity and love. But, now, his actions just made Ed sad—sad that he could not return the favor genuinely because he did not feel the same way.

The boy sighed as he ran a hand through his blonde hair, which was still hanging around his shoulders. He drew it back into a pony-tail several times, but did not tie it back. His fingers twitched as they pleaded to fold and twist sections of hair into a braid, but he knew that Havoc didn't like his hair in his usual plait, mostly because he did…

Three swift knocks to the door across the room yanked Edward from his thoughtful stupor. His eyes shifted unenthusiastically across the room as he called, "Who is it?"

"Me," and Edward knew that voice well enough to know who "me" was. The door creaked open and Jean Havoc stuck his head in, a cigarette hanging from his lazy smile. Soon, the rest of his body followed, and the door shut behind him.

"Y'know, it's bad luck t'see the bride before the wedding." The lopsided grin on Ed's lips twitched occasionally at his joke and because of his anger.

"Yeah, I know," Havoc spoke, his speech muffled by the cigarette in his mouth. Edward was used to this impediment. The only time the man didn't have a smoke in his mouth was when he was fucking Ed. He even sucked own on smoke when he was eating. It was actually a little sickening. "I just wanted to see ya. Make sure you don't have cold feet 'bout any of this."

Ed feigned both his smile and his reaction, "Of course not. I told ya I was in it for the long run. Who knows how long that'll be though?" Ed half-joked. "Are you sure you aren't havin' second thoughts?"

Havoc smiled and removed his cigarette—a gesture that Ed rather appreciated—and moved swiftly across the room to stand opposite his fiancé. Before Ed could react, the man gathered the smaller blonde in a tight, loving embrace. Ed struggled initially at the arms surrounding him, but stopped once he realized that this was Havoc's love at work again. "Never. Ever. I love you, Ed."

Ed flushed. Such actions were completely alien to him. In the past, loving gestures like hugs and declarations of love were rare happenings. Now they were as common as gum on the sidewalk—which is practically how they felt. "Uh, yeah, love ya', too, Havoc."

The taller released him and frowned. "Why do you still insist on calling me by my last name?"

Ed scratched the back of his head, "force of habit, I guess?"

"Well," Jean responded, placing a hand on the small of Ed's back, "it's time to create some new habits. Life-long ones."

Then, without any warning further than the hand on his back, Jean's lips came crashing on Ed's. Jean's mouth moved passionately against his, and Edward strained to catch up. The older's tongue tasted disgusting—like tobacco. He hated when Jean kissed him like this because his breath and his mouth always tasted like his last cigarette. Edward swallowed their combined spit with a grimace and attempted to not completely hate the taste as he returned Havoc's rough kiss. He would have to get used to the taste of saliva and cigarettes, and he'd have to get used to Jean's lips on his.

Havoc finished the kiss and moved backwards one step. "Hurry up and put that ponytail up so you can get out there. He placed a final kiss on Ed's cheek and removed himself from the room. Ed sighed, his heart speeding in his chest. The pain his chest warned him to sit down. Instantly, out of new habit, the blonde took in three deep breaths. His heart slowed and the pain diminished and he looked down at the floor.

"Shooting stars, save me now."

—xx—

The wedding march should have sounded beautiful, but really, it reminded him of a funeral march. Actually, the whole reason behind such an event made him think of his own funeral. Edward shook away such thoughts and felt down the back of his head. The plait lying against his white suit jacket felt like his personal final defiance. After this day, his rebellion would mean nothing—and if that wasn't depressing, then what was?

Edward took a deep breath, not allowing his heart to speed in his chest painfully, and took the first step. He followed Havoc's tiny blonde niece as she tossed flowers down the aisle. Time seemed to slow around him, flower petals dancing around his feet as he took each agonizing step towards the end. The little flower girl stole a quick glance at Edward, then flushed, giggled, and threw an extra-large fist full of flowers in the air. A few souls in the audience seemed to notice this, chuckling softly, followed by whispers that explained the hilarity. Edward scanned the audience, which was packed with mostly Havoc's friends and family. Winry was on the right, holding a small child in her lap and smiling at her childhood friend. The sea of Havoc's relatives were blonde and tall and they—

…they weren't all blonde. A spot of black in the gold caught Ed's eye and breath, and he stopped moving down the aisle for several seconds. It couldn't be…

The pews began whispering and murmuring and many of them turned to look at the white-suited Elric. The black-haired figure turned to him and smiled. One obsidian eye connected with Ed's golden ones and there was a moment where time stood still and breathing didn't seem important and everything felt heavy and the air was too thick. Roy Mustang smiled and mouthed "hi." Ed had no idea how to react. There were so many things he wanted to ask and he no longer cared about the end of the aisle—he just wanted to dive into the pews and into his arms.

But as time sped back up and he took a breath, he felt that pain in his chest and he began sweating. For a moment he thought, this is it, but took a long breath and tore his eyes away from the raven-haired man that was giving him a very strange look at that current moment. Edward took another step forward, this time more carefully, accompanying each with one long breath. Finally he reached the priest and took his place opposite his fiancé and adjacent Al, his best man, who leaned forward.

"What…" Al asked sharply, "…was that?"

"Nothing," Edward murmured.

Al hmphed and moved back into place. Edward turned to a frowning Jean Havoc, who Ed easily placated with a smile. The great thing about being loved and not loving someone was that it was easy to make them feel better. Edward personally didn't feel like it was such a great thing—more like it was a terrible thing to be using a man who loved him so dearly. But who in his situation wouldn't do the same thing?

The priest began droning on and on, and when Havoc's excited smile became tiresome, Ed chanced a look into the pews. Again, he asked himself, what am I doing here? How did I end up marrying Jean Havoc? He sighed silently. Is this what I really want—to spend my last days with this man—and close the door on one who might… his eyes locked on Roy, who was already looking at him. "…love me more," he whispered. Roy might not love him more than Havoc, but Ed loved that man more than he had ever loved anyone in his life—save his mother and brother. His eyes went back to his soon-to-be-husband's, who seemed to have not noticed his audible finished thought in his loving stupor. Edward returned his smile weakly and felt his heart begin to speed up. He hadn't expected Roy to be here—he hadn't expected to see Roy ever again, really. When Mustang had disappeared on him, he thought that was it. But, somehow, he had found out about the wedding—and then decided to attend.

What a terrible day for the man to make his reappearance in his life. God forbid Ed make it through this wedding without another reason to run away. He wanted to give Al his stupid white suit back and run away with Roy in his black pants and tank-top. But, he couldn't. He was obligated to stay with the blonde across from him; the man who would attend his own wedding with a damned lit cigarette in his mouth, and have his tie undone, and god damnit Roy would have looked classy today and would have had his shirt tucked in if he were marrying Ed instead.

He couldn't make himself love Jean, but this was the point where there was no turning back, no matter how much better of a husband Roy would have made him. Ed and Roy had had their time, though. And it hadn't worked. Roy had made that very clear when he had left town for two years.

"Ed?" Havoc interrupted, "ya there?"

"Oh, right," Ed said, chuckling nervously, earning a genuine one from Roy alone in the audience. Ed flushed, violently grabbing the hands that Havoc was offering him.

The priest cleared his throat angrily and continued. "Jean Havoc, do you take Edward Elric, to have and to hold, through sickness and in health, 'till death do us part?"

"I do," Havoc answered quickly, without thought.

In the audience, a flashbulb burst, and Ed delicately feigned a smile.

The priest repeated the question to Edward, who didn't respond quite so eagerly. In fact, he didn't respond at all. He just stared. His eyes bore holes into Havoc's, who was practically pleading him to answer. Roy cleared his throat in the pew, and suddenly, the entire room filled with gossipy whispers that Edward couldn't decipher; not that he wanted to. Ed's eyes darted to Roy's gaze as he made the throaty noise. Suddenly, he knew he wouldn't answer such a question—for the only answer was the wrong one. Edward's breathing began speeding dangerously, the pain a knife in his heart. Havoc reached forward to put a hand on his shoulder worriedly, and Ed flinched. He looked at his fiancé very much like he was a cockroach on his shoulder, then turned to the audience, almost as if to say sorry. He opened his mouth, turned to Havoc, murmured something, and ran.

Edward had always been very athletic. That was part of the reason why he had lasted so long. His doctor had advised him that running was not a good idea, but his doctor was in the darkest confines of his mind as he threw the double doors open and ran outside, into the broad daylight. When the doors closed behind him, he collapsed against them. Steam engines of weight rolled over his chest, and he heaved each breath like it was his last. He grabbed at the ground and tried to get some kind of a grip on the world, but each moment felt unreal. The door to the right of him opened, and he braced himself to get up, expecting Havoc to appear at his side. Instead, he was faced with a pair of brown—not Havoc's black—slacks, and he looked up, still breathing heavily.

Roy did not rush to his side and ask him if he were okay. Instead, he sat beside him and grabbed Edward's hand, caressing the back with two fingers. Edward's heart slowed, his breathing evened, and he succumbed to the strangely soothing feeling. Roy removed his hand and sat in silence as he ex-lover calmed.

"I…" he finally spoke, looking away from the blonde, "…I didn't know."

"I know," Edward murmured.

"Edward," Roy said, "What are you doing marrying Jean Havoc?"

Edward laughed, "I can't answer that myself—not that I'm marrying him anymore."

Roy smiled at him, "I… didn't mean for this to happen, Edward. I just needed to see you again."

The blonde ran a hand through his bangs, "It would have happened sooner or later. I'll never love him."

Roy nodded, and allowed silence to engulf them again for a few moments, before stating, "I like your braid. It's gotten longer."

Ed flushed, "yeah, I don't know what inspired me to braid it. You're the only one who likes it on me anymore."

Roy shrugged. A gentle breeze wafted between them, scents of honeysuckle and orchids tickling their senses. A few white blossoms stirred on the steps of the church, and Edward found himself scuffing his white shoes again.

The older shifted over and put an arm around the younger man, who hesitated at the touch, but acquiesced and moved into the warmth. "Edward, I… missed you."

Looking up from his feet, Edward stole a glance at the man that who just said something profound. A light blush dusted the man's pale cheeks, and Roy was looking away from Ed's gaze.

"Roy, I've always l—"

"I know." Roy interrupted. He knew Ed well enough to know that declarations of love were off-limits and not a part of what they are—were about.

"I have, as well."

Roy leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, moving slowly, softly, lovingly against Ed's, and Edward mirrored his actions easily, happily. His heart began to speed as he felt the warmth that his love for Roy brought him race through his veins again. The older pulled him in closer, not to deepen the kiss, but to hold him. Edward felt the pain enter his chest again, but the warm feeling distracted him from the pain. The kiss just felt so damned good that he couldn't be bother to care about the crushing feeling on his chest—like a stampede of cattle was rushing across his lungs. And as Edward gasped for air, he brushed it off as the bubbly, airless feeling he felt when he was with Roy.

But, suddenly, Roy pulled away, shouting something at him. Even as Roy opened his mouth, no sound left his lips. Everything just sounded like he was underwater. He felt the world shake around him and the bubbly feeling in his chest increase, but Roy still looked alarmed. Edward just wanted to know why he wasn't being kissed anymore.

Suddenly, the world began to blur.

Roy Mustang held Edward in his arms and watched the blonde—that beautiful blonde, looking especially stunning in that all-white suit—convulse in his arms, feeling helpless as he shouted at him. Edward just kept on smiling and staring at him, even as his eyes teared up. Everything felt weak and unreal and Roy wanted to shake Edward so hard that his seizure would stop and they could run off together.

Roy had only cried twice in his life, so when the tears came to his eyes, the wetness falling down his cheeks felt foreign and alien. "Edward, please," Roy murmured, blinking through the uncontrollable tears, "please, stop."

Edward shakily raised a hand as if he were going to rest it on Roy's shoulder and tell him that everything was going to be okay, but his hand fell, and in that moment, Roy knew that it wasn't "going to be okay." This was it.

"Edward, I love you."

For one moment, Edward stopped shaking and looked Roy in the eye as if he agreed.

And then he gave one last jerk, and went limp in Roy's arms.

Roy's cries to the heavens were only matched the crashing thunder in the nearby distance.

—xx—

A/N: Can you tell that I don't like marriage?

maria