41. — insanity
"How did you pass the psych exam?"
Envy's covered in blood, grinning through it. It's ridiculous how well they pull it off.
Kimblee tries to control his euphoria, and fails; it's an impossible task. He claps his hands, drowning out his laughter with an explosion. "I just thought of the answers they'd want to see."
Envy giggles, and it's somehow a lovelier sound than the dying screams below. "Y'know, you'd've moved up through the ranks a lot more quickly if you'd have been honest."
Kimblee smiles. "I didn't know that someone as insane as you would be marking my exam."
10. — nostalgia
It's cold in prison, but it was warm in Ishval, so Kimblee goes there instead.
Even in dreams, Ishval's colours are more vibrant than the monochrome of Kimblee's solitary cell.
There was so much to hear there—a symphony of screaming, and the thundering of artillery and alchemical reactions, and his own, rare, laughter, and Envy's laughter, raucous, rough and yet indescribably sweet.
Kimblee can still hear it now.
Opportunities like those in Ishval don't come often, and they never will again, will they?
The one who gave him those opportunities hasn't visited in years now.
But still, he dreams.
12. — stranger
They'd almost been best friends, hadn't they?
Lust had certainly teased Envy enough about it, when everything was easy, when Envy didn't know what true pain felt like.
But Kimblee was so quiet now-was he always this quiet, away from the context of the battlefield?
Envy hadn't visited, but they'd been busy, doing what Father needed, and Kimblee had deserved it, for trying to take the Stone without Envy's permission.
"I...did miss you," he says quietly, a whisper from the backseat, and Envy grips the wheel, wondering at how easy it was to forget what his voice sounded like.
32. — underneath
"Do you hate me now?"
Envy's words are careless, callous, almost good enough to fool Kimblee. "Disgusting, aren't I?" They laugh, a cacophony of souls wailing in harmony with them. "You're the only one who's lived through seeing me like this, you know."
They stare down on him, enormous and unrelenting.
Their fathomless eyes are shimmering with tears.
They're terrible, horrible, an abomination like nothing that he's ever seen before, and he's certain that Envy will never let him see this form again.
"How could I hate something so beautiful?" And it's the truth.
"You're lying." But a tear falls.
07. — melody
His fingers dance across the piano keys. Envy buries their head in the couch cushions and listens. "You should practice more, Crimson. You're rusty," they call out, but he's actually very good.
His fingers fly. It's one of those Chopin pieces (Envy knows that much by now), and it's hard to make those sound bad, but his right hand is clumsy—the melody should be smoother than that.
Then Envy realizes that Kimblee really hasn't practiced for years, because he's been alone, in prison, and they feel hollow inside. Their fingers dig into the upholstery, and they listen in uncritical silence.
A/N: Long time, no update! Hope you've all been doing well, friends.
I finally learned the definition of a drabble, so these next few chapters will have drabbles in them, each (hopefully!) exactly 100 words. They'll all take place in a sort of fusion universe, between my longer fic "The Open Jar," and another universe that I haven't written a longfic for yet (someday!)—basically, Kimblee did go to prison, like in canon and in TOJ, but was let out a few years early to work more closely with the homunculi. Some of them will take place in The Future, too, in a similar world to my oneshot "Yours." There should eventually be fifty drabbles altogether.
Thank you, hope you enjoyed!