Title: Ashes To Snow
Word Count: 1,362
Prompt: Snow
Warnings: BL

Summary: Guy's being a jerk. A poetic and symbolic jerk... but a jerk nonetheless. He's lucky he's a loveable jerk.
Disclaimer: I am not worthy. I write half-baked fanfiction. Tales of- shall never be mine. I am not worthy... I write... (No, I'm not harming myself in any way to this chant.)

"I didn't realize you'd be so sensitive, Guy. Are you going to forgive me anytime soon?"

"I was a fool to trust you."

Asch could not deny those words. Yet he chose to ignore them, flipping through the pages of a musty old tome. The words were written in Ancient Ispanian, something the stupid replica never mastered. Asch held little advantages over Luke. This was one of them.

And it was his advantage for eternity.

The God-General took his eyes off the book for a moment. Unfocused upon letterings and what his eyes could sense, he heard footsteps knocking against the wooden floor. Closer and closer they crept. Asch sneered, "Then why didn't you kill me back when you had the chance? Maybe that way, neither of us would've lived."

A bright red mark spread across his cheek. He refused to touch. Asch could not recall the last time he'd been slapped so impulsively. To his father it meant to teach proper etiquette, to Legretta it meant obedience, to Guy apparently it meant just for the hell of it.

There was a lot to be said about how a relationship could go so astray.

For several months, Asch had become reacquainted with Gailardia. They became close friends. Some argued that they were too close. One certain colonel had encouraged it with a hearty laugh. A greedy little girl found the pair to be quite a reliable source of income through shadier means.

Yet in the midst of chilling winter, a touchy subject had come up. Asch treaded upon thin ice with his inquiries, and fell in too deep. Now they were in a phase of mutual notice: the two men saw each other as nothing more than space taken up.

That didn't keep them from talking, however. Asch tended to take the initiative and heckle Guy with more questions.

Guy insisted, "You promised me. You swore he'd come back."

"I see how it is. What if it had been him, and I was the one gone missing?"

Asch was greeted with bitter silence. The replica had become the genuine article. He simply couldn't understand why everyone preferred some fake. "But of course," Asch grumbled. Luke had learned to embrace people, to be kind and compassionate. Asch, on the other hand, kept to himself and strove to complete his own goals. "I've made room for you, though, haven't I?" He wished his words held some meaning to the former servant, but he always spoke in vain. Right, he never considered the feelings of others.

With a thud the strange book was discarded on the table. Promptly, Asch headed for the door. It creaked open. He asked, "Why do you have to be so cold?" Asch waited, for what he did not know. Nothing came so he decided it was time to take his leave.

Guy's voice carried over to his ears, "Because of what you are, Luke."

Tension spread like a wildfire. "What did you call me? That's not my name," Asch reminded sternly.

"The Sacred Flame. That's who you are. Right, Luke?"

Jealously wove through Asch's counter, "Luke this, Luke that. He's dead, Guy. Dead! He never came back and I did. I'm his replacement…" The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Perhaps they'd have been better left unsaid.

Guy didn't stir. Not one bit.

Asch cringed and demanded, "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

The words rolled right off of his tongue, "Like you're dead."

Undaunted, Guy went on, "Of course I am. What is cold? Ice. And if the ice stays by the fire for too long? I die." The symbolism behind those words startled Asch.

Asch's tone stiffened, "Do you really dislike me that much? Guy, you were never like this around him." Luke and Guy, best friends for life. Asch had watched them enviously; he couldn't even count for a third wheel. It was pathetic. He slammed the door on the way out.

Somewhere beneath all that pride, Asch prayed Guy would come sprinting after him. On the surface, however, he simply couldn't look back. As fast as his legs could carry him, he ran.

The next day, outside in the rare warmth of the sun, Asch found himself being approached. Guy actually came for him. Asch couldn't help the smug grin that wormed its way upon his face. He wanted an apology, even if he'd been the one at fault. He needed Guy, as selfish as that sounded.

"I wanted to forget about you."

The grin faded. "Heh, that figures as much." Asch rubbed at his eyes. He didn't think he'd find tears.

Guy reluctantly acknowledged, "But it's too late for me now. I'm already melting." A pair of arms wrapped around Asch in an embrace. This was pity. He didn't need pity. And he certainly did not need any more of this comparison crap.

Asch's voice managed to stay relatively stable, "I'm not Luke. There is no fire. You aren't melting."

"If I'm not melting, then what am I? Come to think of it, who are you?" More insistent questions were flung his way. Asch swallowed and dared to answer them.

He began slowly, "Asch… that's my name, damn it…"

Guy tightened his hold around Asch. "See? If you're the ashes of the flame, then I must be the snow. I'll still melt whether I'm with you or not."

Asch pulled away. He hissed, "…you. You jerk! Were you screwing around with me the whole time?" Guy suddenly appeared sheepish. Both reddened, one in anger and the other in embarrassment.

Guy spoke timidly, attempting to justify his actions, "Yes, well, an eye for an eye. You lied to me."

"I can't replace him!" Asch barked.

Asch found himself staring as Guy contemplated his words. The way those lashes fluttered, that slender wrist just below that defined chin, those parted lips… no! He was supposed to be mad at servant boy! "Ashes cannot burn once more. True. From a brilliant light to smoldering dust, that's how far you've fallen." Harsh words did well to bring him back to reality.

Asch muttered, "Guy, I can't help it if I've changed…"

"I know that."

That was it? That was all he had to say for himself? He bellowed in rage, "Then I don't understand why you had to fuss about that damn replica! Why him? Why not me?"

"Asch, had you been the one to leave, a forgotten memory, an old flame… things would've been much easier. I'd move on. Now I have something else entirely on my hands."

"An old flame, strange way of putting it," he muttered, blushing; Asch heard nothing else but that idiom, used in such a context that it was hard to distinguish from a Luke reference or a pass. He had considered the latter more so, but…

"There are some things you'll never understand. It is because of one of these mysterious things that I love watching you suffer."

Asch growled, "That's sickening."

The feud was about to come to a close when Guy leaned in. Asch instinctively closed his eyes, not one to take the lead in such matters (he fought fiercely, however).

Guy stepped aside and whispered in his ear, "Yet you enjoyed it." Surprisingly, Asch didn't give chase. Instead he watched the sky.

Snow gently fell. It begged the question: "Would you really melt if I wasn't with you?"

"Of course not. Who else could make me feel so weak and defenseless other than you?" Asch felt himself twitching. It sounded as if Guy was downright mocking him.

"Stop being so damn sarcastic. It's annoying and you know that I won't put up with you."

Guy teased, "Isn't torture one of your favorites, though, Asch?"

"…I'm having a long talk with Curtiss." He began to walk away, wondering how far he'd have to go before Guy felt apologetic.

Asch soon felt a tug at his sleeve. Guy requested quite vaguely, "If you do leave, make sure to bring him back." Impatiently he tapped his foot, awaiting more details. At least he bothered to listen.

"The one who by any other name is still... my beloved flame."