Pale-colored Irises
- chapter 2 -

"Good afternoon, Colonel." Edward bowed slightly, opening the door to let the man in, not aware that he was deadpanning. He wanted this over and done with.

Roy Mustang bowed as well, ignoring the fact that the blonde was wearing sunglasses in his own house, before entering the house with a small raise of an eyebrow. "Ah, I would have expected this to be a luxurious mansion for such a well-known sculptor, if that's not too bold to say."

"No, it's alright." Ed took the other's coat, feeling the leather under his fingers, before hanging it somewhere by the hook on the wall. "I live alone, so there's no point for a mansion, is there?" His lips quirked upward slightly when Roy let out a slight chuckle.

Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.

"The famous Edward Elric… People had already told me that you were young, but I never thought that you'd be so… short."

Or not.


Roy coughed nervously as he sat on a stool in Ed's workshop – also known as his basement – and watched as the blonde ran about the room, grabbing some cutters over there, some gloves over here, before going to the table beside the stool and slamming the materials on it before going around again to get some clay, stomping all the way.

"Did I…" Roy swallowed, "Say something wrong?" He asked, but even so, the smallest hints of a smug smirk played on his lips.

"No." Ed answered, albeit through gritted teeth. "Not at all." With a slight huff under his breath, he sat on another stool right next to Roy, slipping on his gloves. "Let's start." He reached out to lay a hand on the man's cheek, but frowned when the other flinched away. "You haven't been properly informed, have you?"

Roy raised an eyebrow, eyeing the gloved hand just a few centimeters away from his face. "Excuse me?"

"I'm blind." Edward said bluntly. He wasn't surprised that Roy didn't know, because he knew that even thought his blindness was his most intricate feature, when people talked about him, it was also the one often getting overshadowed by his skills as a sculptor.

He sighed, getting a bit impatient before reaching out again, this time satisfied to find that the other man didn't flinch away this time and leaned forward obediently. Just like a dog. He remembered the times when people went in an outrage at the phrase 'I'm from the military.' and called him not an intrepid soldier but merely a dog of the military.

Roy frowned slightly, feeling a bit irksome because he wasn't in control, and he suddenly felt so weak and useless. Control was something that he savored in the military, and obviously, there was no control in his power here. He shifted slightly, a bit uncomfortable at having a stranger's hand poke and probe at his face. Suddenly, his eyes wandered to the sunglasses, and realization dawned on his face. "You don't have to wear sunglasses, you know."

To his surprise, the blonde's lips twitched upwards, but he wasn't sure if it was either a smile or a smirk. "Most customers find it weird to see what they say are emotionless eyes," – He snickered a bit – "and sometimes I find it hard to work when they keep on fidgeting under my hands."

"Well," Roy paused when fingers ran over his lips delicately, and he cursed at himself when he felt blood rush to his cheeks. He spoke again when the fingers busied themselves with the side of his face, shifting a bit to raise an arm to grab hold of the sunglasses and yank them off the blonde's face. "The sunglasses disturb me a bit."

Ed sputtered, but quieted down with a frown after that last statement. With an embarrassed blush, he continued his work with a mutter under his breath. "You could have just asked."


It was already quarter to eight; four hours have already passed since Roy appeared. Roy was getting restless, just sitting there and being touched by a complete stranger. Well, all their conversations from those four hours didn't exactly make Edward Elric a complete stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.

So far, Roy had found out that the blonde was blind, has been sculpting since he was a child, lived alone, and was twenty-one years old. It was hard to squeeze things out of him – especially between their frequent arguments (Ed was touchy when Roy brought up his height.) – and most of the subject of their conversations was often abruptly changed into something related to sculpture. It was better to go with the flow, then.

On the working table was already a half-finished head. All that was needed was to put on more intricate details of the face. Still, Roy couldn't believe just how close the head was to looking like him.

The basement floor was littered with excess clay that flew away during the molding process, and he barely wondered how a blind man would be able to clean it all.

He fidgeted in his seat, wondering how stiff his back and neck will be after all this. What time is it, anyway?

Edward most likely realized his discomfort and finally retreated his hands, before going on to continue the real sculpting. He continued like that for another hour, this time talking about Roy's job.

As they conversed, Roy sat there idly, his eyes on the hands making the head the whole time, marveling at the fact that the person making it couldn't even see it. Then, he flicked his gaze to the face of the sculptor, lingering shortly on the eyes – eyes that were seemingly looking at his handiwork but really to nowhere at all.

"We're done for tonight." Ed suddenly announced, but his hands still stayed where they are – molding clay. "You can go home now if you want."

Roy resisted the urge to leap for joy and scream ecstatically, so he settled with a mere cough. "Thank you for the trouble. When will I be getting the finished product?"

At that, Edward raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? I only said that we're done for tonight. We still have the whole week ahead of us."

It was Roy's turn to raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You can't expect me to sculpt your body out of scratch, right? If that's the case, you'd end up looking anorexic with big feet and a really, really big head." The blonde drawled.

"W-what? Body?" The first thing that entered Roy's mind was that he was going to have those hands poke and probe his body for a week.

"Yes." Ed replied. "The one who called me told me that they were expecting a full-body sculpture. After all, they said, you're the national's hero."

Just then, a loud bell resounded in the house, along with a very faint 'Ed! It's me! I brought brownies!' and somewhere in Ed's mind, he recognized the sound of his doorbell, but other than that, it went unnoticed.

"B-body…" Roy repeated, face already beet red at the mere thought. Coughing to get his composure back, he meekly nodded in understanding. "Of course. I'll be back tomorrow at the same time."

But Ed wasn't going to let him go that easily. Surely, the Colonel didn't think he could get away with all of those height-related insults before? Ed took his hands off the clay, reaching blindly to the side to grab hold of the towel there, before proceeding to wipe his hands off, after which he stood up with a smirk. "Don't worry, Colonel. We'll try to keep your clothes on. I hope you don't mind. After all, it is only business. And I'm blind." The sputtering coming from the other man was like sweet music to the blonde's ears.

Still smirking, he put the towel down and proceeded to walk away from the table. "I'll escort you out of the house, Colonel."

Roy nodded, whole face colored scarlet, muttering a barely audible, "Of course, thank you."

But of all the times for Edward Elric, world-renowned sculptor, to slip on a patch of clay on the floor, it just had to be now. He barely had the time to realize what was happening to him, but all he knew was he was falling. He was expecting the impact of the floor so much, that when arms wrapped around him in an effort to save him from landing painfully – and embarrassingly, mind you – he pushed away the owner of those arms on impulse.

And Roy, not expecting that kind of reaction, toppled over, and it all ended up in both of them falling on the floor in their most not-so-desired position.

Apparently, the one who rang the doorbell a few minutes ago happened to be Winry Rockbell visiting her neighbor with a plate of brownies in hand. After not finding him in the living room, or in the kitchen, she bypassed his room to go directly into the basement.

But when she opened the door, her jaw dropped and the brownies almost fell from her hand.

Why?

Because her long-time friend (that she had long since decided was asexual) was currently lying under a person she didn't know – and a man, too –, both of their faces flushed and sweaty.

That's why.

Winry made a mental note to speak to Ed about the birds and the bees later.

- tbc -


KK: uhm… I'm sorry for the super late update, because I've only just managed to get our computer (and our keyboard. –stabs keyboard-) working, so I've only just managed to type it up. It took me at least three to four days to finish this, because I didn't know how to continue. XD But I hope it's long enough to make up for the lost time.

I was really surprised about the reviews I got from the first chapter, so thank you so much!

And I apologize for the uber lame ending. X3

I hope you enjoyed it!