Once back home, Edward excused himself to the bathroom as soon as they entered through the front door. There was something about having Winry there in Alphonse's place that made the whole place feel wrong. The balance was off somehow and it made him feel uneasy.
Winry had forced a smile as she turned towards him, her bright ocean eyes creasing into crescent moons, chirping an overly positive "okay" before she left to do the dishes.
'What- where they just gonna play family now?' Edward thought bitterly as he watched her turn on the faucet, sliding on a pair of green rubber gloves that reached her to the elbows. 'Were they just going to pretend like they were like any other young engaged couple, excited and passionate, lacking the ability to keep their hands off each other?' There were not a pair of hands in the entire world, except for maybe his mother's (all though she technically wasn't a part of this world anymore) that he wanted on him these days.
It wasn't like before; when he thought they, Winry and him, could withstand anything. He had promised his whole life to her. Now, it was like he couldn't spare a single piece. Because, if he gave anything away, there wasn't enough of him left to grasp onto when it felt like he was losing himself entirely. Nothing in his entire body felt like him, and he knew that nothing would ever be the same again – he wanted it to be, but it couldn't and he just wanted to go back to the hour before it happened. To when he was him.
A handful of water was sprinkled onto his face, uncaring if it made his cast soggy. He needed to pull himself together. Get out of this... this, stupor- this strange nothing-that-had-ever-been-him that was going on. Why did the shit that happened to him a week ago leave such a large impact still? Had he not faced unspeakable horror before? And how unspeakably horrendous was this, truly, compared to everything else? Why did it feel so bad? It was humiliating, painful and a part of him felt like he could never trust another person again, but what was this, really, compared to what he had seen beyond the gate? What he had seen, dealing with the Sins and when trying to bring his mom back to life, losing an arm and a leg and thinking that he'd killed Alphonse as well?
How could this possibly make him feel so horrible?
...control, Edward slowly realized as he peered into the exhausted gaze looking back at him in the mirror. Or, more accurately, the lack thereof. In each and every one of the cases he had dealt with before, he had had some kind of confidence, delusional or not, that he could succeed. That he could beat it. That he somehow could manipulate the situation to his advantage. And when Al and he had tried to resurrect their mother, he had been stupidly confident that they could do it.
There was no way of looking at what had happened to him a week ago that seemed to advantage him in any sort of way; no matter how he twisted and turned it in his mind.
It was just plain defeat.
As he stood, weak digits gripping onto the sink, he could hear Winry call his name from the living room.
"Yes?" he forced in reply, winching at his own volume. Everything around him had been so muted the past days and the sudden change screeched in his ears.
"You okay in there?"
'Am I okay?' he thought to himself, assessing the blue, purplish rings under his eyes and the matt color of his usually bright hair, the green and yellow tint his bruises had taken on. 'I certainly don't look like it.'
"M'fine," he answered anyway, before flushing the toilet. Might as well pretend that he didn't just want a moment with as much distance between himself and Winry in the small apartment. Somehow, a closed door between him and everything else seemed strangely comforting. He waited for a moment before he opened the door and trotted silently out in the hallway, heading towards the living area where Winry was scrubbing away at an iron pan.
Now what?
He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. If he'd had two hands, he'd offer to towel off the newly washed dishes for her.
But he didn't.
If he had anything to say, he'd tell her 'thank you'.
But he didn't.
If he'd felt like getting close to someone; he'd hug her from behind and inhale the scent of her coconut shampoo, mixing in with the citrus from the dish soap, kiss the back of her head, and nuzzle his nose against the milky white of her neck. Maybe even give it a soft nick with his front teeth.
But he really, truly didn't.
Instead, he just kept standing there awkwardly, watching her work with her back facing him, listening to the splashing of water, the clinking of cutlery as she chucked it into the soapy water, the scrapping of the brush as she rubbed them clean, and the gentle clang from it being put on the dishrack.
He had never felt so unfamiliar in his own home.
His mind escaped him, reminding him that he didn't deserve this kind of familiarity. This kind of normalcy. Not after what he'd done; not after what he had let that man do to him. He felt dirty and bad and ashamed and could hardly even stand anyone to look at him. As if they would strip him down, see through the layers of skin, muscle, fat, and metal, and realize that his insides were rotting.
Edward imagined how his intestines were spotted in a black, tar-like substance, morphing into small tendrils of venom breaching through the layers of membrane and reaching for his heart, wanting to tear it out by the roots and strangle it.
A small sob escabed him.
Winry immediately turned around and saw Edward hunched over, his arm clutching the neck of his shirt as if he wasn't getting enough air.
"Ed?" she asked, voice bristled with uncertainty. He didn't give her an answer, just kept standing there with his hand scrunched in the fabric of his collar. A wide, golden gaze switched from trying to sear a hole through the floor boards to her calm, ocean eyes, hoping to extinguish the heat. Edward closed his eyes, a deep furrow knitted between them, and opened his mouth which was only able to snatch a sharp breath. Another sob mixed with a cough came when he tried to speak again, and her name was uttered in the choked noise.
"Winry."
His knees gave out and hit the floor with a deep thud. He leaned over, hand still clutched at his chest until his forehead nearly hit the ground. Tears had begun flooding through his eyes and his mouth was frozen in a silent wail. Winry was quickly by his side. She had shrugged off her gloves the moment she saw him collapse, and was now on the floor with him, strong arms enveloping him in a tight embrace.
She didn't say anything and he didn't fight her. The warmth and compassion radiating out of her embrace made him feel like this kind of closeness was safe, opposed to how every touch from then to now had felt like an electric current running through his entire body.
They stayed on the floor to let Edward cry it out. Winry closed her eyes, wanting to stay strong for her special person, but the hurt radiating from him was simply too big and too much. Eventually, she had to let go as well, and let her own tears fall into a small stain on Edwards's shoulder.
Eventually, Winry could feel Edward's body still. The shaking diminished slowly and his breathing evened out. She let her arms disentangle, hands brushing against his back to linger on his shoulders as she scooted over just a little to give him some room.
His chest was still hitching slightly as glossy, red-rimmed eyes finally looked up and locked with her's. Edward's lips curved into a slight smile as his casted arm quickly brushed snot and tears from his face. Winry's eyebrows scrunched in confusion by the smile that seemed so out of place until he chuckled.
"I'm sorry. I-" he started, pausing to find the right words, the wry grin still on his face. "I'm such a mess. I don't know what's happening to me."
Winry shook her head, carefully clasping his one hand between her own protectively. "Please, I can't stand that you think you have something to apologize for, Ed. You've done nothing wrong."
He peered at her incredulously for a moment. "O-of course I have. You and I, our-" he freed his hand and motioned it between the two of them. "Our first time was supposed to be together. And that... is not how it is, anymore." His voice was nearly lost at the end.
"You should be mad at me," he added, letting his shoulders sag and head lower, waiting for her to finally just admit that she was hurt.
"Edward Elric. Let me make one thing absolutely clear." Blue eyes bore into him as Edward's attention snapped back towards her, a small dread that would never leave him by being addressed by his whole name, leaving a slight knot in his stomach. "What happened to you was in no way your fault. That fucker forced himself on you when you had no way to fight back, and that should not be considered intercourse."
Winded by her ferocity, Edward needed a moment to catch his breath.
"He would never have gotten as far as he did if I had just snapped out of it-"
"You were scared!" Winry's fingers dug into his shoulders almost painfully. Azure orbs dug into him pleadingly. "You were scared and hurt and tied up. You probably hadn't been able to fight even if you weren't frozen! Edward, please don't think that- that I'm angry with you." She was consumed with pain as she desperately tried to convince Edward that it wasn't his fault. Tears began to run down her face once more, even if Edward's own tear-tracks had already dried, leaving thick trails down his cheeks. The desperation for him to just understand was too much.
"I don't think I even really understood what was happening," Edward quietly mumbled, brushing his bangs away from his face before his hand fell to his shoulder, requesting Winry's delicate but callused digits to lace between his own. "I mean, I did, eventually. I just don't think I... I wanted to get away but somehow, I still felt like I just allowed it to happen. I know hindsight is 20/20 and all that, but... I can't get rid of all the ideas of how I could have gotten away."
Winry sighed deeply, watching his thumb as it stroked against her palm reassuringly as if she was the one needing comfort. And maybe some part of her did. Having Edward finally touch her again and allow her to touch him in return; not cowering away from her or having to deal with painful automail repairs, made her realize how much she loved him. And how much it hurt when it was clear that he was hurting.
"You'll just have to take things a little at the time," she whispered. "It's not going to get better instantly. It will probably take a long time. Look at it kind of like automail surgery. Your determination alone might make it seem like you get better faster, but on the inside-" She untangled their fingers and laid her fist against his chest, "it's still might bleed and ache and feel like it's going to tear you apart." Edward's hair obscured his eyes as he peered down at her clenched fist. "And if you don't take the right measures to maintain that- it will destroy you. It will hurt you even further."
Edward stiffly moved his hand against her's again, doing his best to press it tighter against where his heart was beating steadily and Winry could feel his warm huffs brush against her skin.
"Thank you," he told her, his lips muffled where he pressed a chaste kiss against her wrist. "I- I needed to hear that."