Event: Roy/Ed Week, Day 7- Come to me.
AN: More stories on AO3!
Nothing in life is worth doing without risk or consequence... by some author he couldn't even fuckin' remember. It was similar to the law of equivalent exchange—To obtain something, something of equal value must be lost. The same law of exchange that forged their young lives until adulthood. The same law that cost him and Al so fuckin' much. It was this law, intensely unfair that it is, that once again was demanding payment.
Edward leaned his head against the porcelain tub in the cold bathroom. Here he was, Former State Alchemist, the People's Alchemist—sitting on a freezing bathroom floor, writhing in agony as Winry's latest pie had just finished greeting him, again. He didn't want this—to be sitting on the cold floor, while fuckin' everyone was downstairs congratulating his brother and his soon to be sister-in-law.
Damnit to hell!
No, equivalent exchange was making it harder for him to hide the painful truth. Well, isn't that fuckin' play on words...
Truth…
Sighing, Edward heaved himself up to the toilet feeling the impending attack. The viciousness of these attacks were making it harder for him to cover it up. Soon, he wouldn't be able to hide it. Fuck, he didn't want that. They had done enough. They deserved to be happy. The simple truth of it—he had made some pretty fucking messed up choices. He fucked up. He had to fix it. No matter the cost; no matter.
Nothing meant more than his baby brother and his happiness.
His baby brother dancing downstairs with his dream girl without a care in the world. Yes, it had been worth it. He was just so tired. So, fucking tired.
He had made a choice that fateful night. He had to save Al—the cost be damned. Edward groaned as the pain intensified forcing him to heave everything he had left. Laying his head against the coldness of the bowl, Edward screwed his eyes shut, blinking the tears back.
It was so fuckin' hard. Hard, trying to do the right thing. Trying to fix all your wrongs. He had made a choice, his life for his brother. One... he would never regret. Fuck him!—that Truth would make it fuckin' painful. The asshole.
He knew he had shaved his lifespan short; he didn't know the exact date, not at first.
No, at first... he stopped eating as much. No big concern. He wasn't supporting Al, not anymore. Naturally, he would have stop fuckin' eating enough to feed a family of five. He continued on with his days, none the wiser.
Then, he was more tired. Sometimes so exhausted, he could barely stay awake— even right after waking. He joked around and play it off. No one noticed. He wanted it that way.
It was downhill from there.
Days filled with pain, vomiting, loss of appetite; it went on and on, never-ending.
He remembered sneaking to see Dr. Knox. The severe man looked at him in pity and he knew before the words every left the doctor's lips.
He was dying…
Motherfuckin' dying.
He still remembered the fight with the good doctor. Knox had wanted him to try experimental treatments. Wanted him to fight. But. He. Was. Done. Fighting. This was his penance. He had done enough. He had shocked Knox; he knew it. He had told him in not so nice words that he was fuckin' done and that no one would fuckin' know about it. Why the fuck would he tear down their happiness? Knox called him a moron and idiot, tossing some pills at him.
He knew Knox had a point on telling someone, but there was no saving him.
So, what could he do?
Worry Al? Make Winry Cry? Watch the General… Roy blame himself? No, he couldn't do that. No he did the next best thing— he hid his illness.
Edward choked as another wave hit full force. Spitting the metallic taste from his mouth. He let his tears leak onto the floor as he collapsed. He just didn't have the energy to hold himself up.
He was just so fuckin' tired. Why did it have to be this hard? Why couldn't he have a little bit of happiness?
He had wanted to try to pursue the General. He didn't ask to fall in love with the Flame Alchemist. It had happened without his permission.
Who wouldn't want a man so determined, loyal, and protective? It had started with appreciation of the small things and blossomed into open admiration. He had wanted to keep his 520 cenz promise. He wanted Roy to have his dream. But fuck, he wanted to be selfish and share it with him.
He could have seen it: standing on the podium watching Mustang's left, decked out in some fucking ritzy suit while Roy accepted the Fuership. Roy in his complete military blues with each achieved marked upon his breast looking devilishly handsome. His snazzy gloves gleaming in the night as he charmed the crowd. Roy proudly and humbly accepting the responsibility. Snagging an arm around his waist, proudly showing off his husband while the sun glinted off their bands. Celebrating later behind closed doors with sinful moans as they drowned in each other.
What good would that have done?
To saddle him with someone as broken as he was? No, he was better off on the cold bathroom floor.
He wished that he had never known. He used to dream of walking up to the Bastard and spewing some drivel. To which smooth ass Roy would respond with his charming self—ending in a date and a late night kiss.
He shivered as the sobs racked his body that he tried to desperately to keep to himself. He didn't want to ruin Al and Winry's big moment. They deserved so much more. He wished he would see it.
She would be wearing a big fucking white-ass dress and no one could compare to her beauty. Al would be dashing in some snazzy-ass suit that Roy would had gotten tailored for him. Winry would float down the aisle and everything would float away from them. All that would matter would be them. Both of them would have that fuckin' goofy would recite their vows of 'my whole life for yours in equal exchange'. Of course when asked if anyone objects, Winry would have her scary face on twirling her wrench. Wouldn't be complete without that...It would be fuckin beautiful and they will go off and have a ton of kids.
Maybe...one named Edward...
Coughing as spasms wracked his body, he moaned trying desperately to get up before another wave hit him with viciousness.
Life was never fair. He had done his duty. But, was it too much to ask to want to ….
To see his brother married? To see his nieces and nephews? To tell the person he loves the truth? To grow old with his lover? To want someone to share his burden? To care for him? Was it just too much?
Edward cried out in agony, trying to inch towards the bowl using his forearms to propel himself forward. Only to collapse inches from the bowl vomiting the bile of his stomach. The hot trek of tears cascading down his face.
He could see Roy rushing in and calling him an idiot before ordering help. He would bend down and tell him to 'Hang on, Edward. We still have that date—remember the one we joked about that night. I would come dressed all fancy and you would blush...that adorable blush...Edward, please.'
Sometimes, he wish his mind would stop. The hallucinations were getting worse. He could almost feel Roy's hot breath and roughened glove on his neck.
Oh! How he wanted his fantasy to come true. He should have told him that night when they had bullshitted about dating. He had been so close to kissing his commanding officer. He gasped as the next wave hit him leaving the acidic taste of bile in his mouth.
"Fullmetal, stay with me! That's an order!"
He was only vaguely aware as a cool hand pressed against his fevered forehead whispering familiar names of so long ago. He groaned when strong hands cradled him against a solid body of warmth. Feeling nimble fingers raking his disheveled golden hair, murmurings of confusion evident. Grasping the crisps lapels of the white satin shirt, Edward let it all go. The pain, his suffering, his happiness, his love, his hopes, his dreams, his resignation of his impending meeting with Death.
He could still hear Rot lamenting about their fictional date.
'You would be wearing those delicious leather pants. I swear you would wear them to make me pant. I would take you to some fancy place that you would undoubtedly complain about before
ordering half the menu. We would stroll through Central and when we… return I would tuck your hair behind your ear and gently give you our first of many sweet kisses. Please, Edward? Hang on. Don't leave me, yet.'
His fictional Roy painted quite the picture. He wanted all of that. Sonofabitch, he did. He wanted to wake up to the glorious Bastard, twisted around each other naked. He wanted to argue over money and if they should get a couple of kids. He wanted to sit in a rocker with his old bastard marveling over all the good they did.
Sobbing he gasped, crying out as the pain overtook him once more, stronger palms cradling his face with indignant pleads and desperate wet salty kisses on cracked dry lips. His body's weariness snapping, slumping against the warm cocoon.
It wouldn't happen. He swore he heard the deep timber of the man he loved begging. But he was so fuckin' tired. He couldn't be strong anymore. Al didn't need him. Winry would take care of him. And Roy, fucking beautiful sexy Roy, he would find someone maybe a nice wife. They didn't need him to be strong anymore. He could just let go, it was okay now. They would survive. He was so tired. He didn't have to be strong, any longer.
He could just let go, leave it all behind, he could just let go.
He heard the shouting.. It seemed so far away.
Was it raining?
It didn't matter...not anymore. He could barely feel the hot splashes along his cold body. He just wanted to rest.
It would be alright.
All that matters was the strong arms protecting him. Shielding him. Almost as if these arms would be enough to protect him even from fate itself. The vibrating mumbled of barked orders, only to help soothe the weary alchemist as he closed his eyes.
He couldn't understand the panic. He just wanted to rest. Finally fuckin' rest because he had someone there to protect him… To share his burden. His only wish is that he had known sooner that he could rest…
If I am found murdered, this story is the real cause.
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