Title: The Lone and The Forgotten.
Pairing(s): Envy/Paniya, mentions of one-sided Ed/Paniya.
Beta: None, all mistakes my own.
Rating: PG-13.
Genre: Drama.
Warnings: Spoilers for the end of the series, disregard for movie-canon.
Feedback: Very welcome, please!
Word Count: 422.
Summary: He isn't him, I know. I know his eyes and his voice and his smile and his touch and his automail isn't his, I know. I've known ever since he arrived, but it doesn't matter, as long as he and I and we are willing to pretend, it will be enough.
Author's Notes: Done for my drabble requests for Christmas, for chibisin, who requested this uncommon pairing. I hope you like it, and sorry if it's short… it was rather difficult to figure out. XD
The Lone and The Forgotten.
He came one day, smelling of sweat and the desert, wary and tired as he roamed the streets aimlessly. He seemed lost, staring at people and not bothering to speak to anyone at all. I knew he wasn't him, when I told him Winry wasn't here anymore. I knew, but I felt the faintest tingle when he shrugged and said it didn't matter.
He isn't him, but my heart still sped up a little when he agreed to stay with us for a while.
He doesn't do much, except wander around, looking at this and that, but never really bothering with much. The clothes are the same, the face is the same, but his eyes betray him. His eyes are darker, the exact same shade as his, but still darker. And when he glares, he does so with malice. And when he snarls, he does so with threat. And when he sneers, he does so with meaning.
He isn't him, but I still feel butterflies in my stomach when he looks my way.
I don't know his name, I've never dared to ask. A creature that can steal someone's face, someone's life so perfectly; it awes and scares me, so I never ask. I never ask why he doesn't eat that much anymore. I never ask why he doesn't sleep a full night. I never ask why the hair doesn't grow. I never ask why the wounds never scar.
He isn't him, but I still blush prettily when I ask him to kiss me.
He doesn't seem to mind, but he doesn't seem to care either. He touches me when I ask him to, forces a strained smile back when I smile at him. He goes with me to check my automail, but he never lets them touch his. I knew it wasn't him, because the automail was always silent, and his had always hummed in tune with mine.
He isn't him, but I still try to find a reason to make him stay another day, another week.
He isn't him, but when I'm lonely and need to snuggle next to someone, he's never irritated enough to cast me away. Or maybe he doesn't have anywhere else to go, this him that isn't him, and he stands to do whatever I ask him to do, in order to remain here. Maybe he's forgotten his own name, and he's just a face, a ghost that no longer can be himself. Maybe he's just as lonely as I am.