29. — preparation
"Really, the Promised Day is so close. I know that seven years may seem like a long time to a human—"
"I'm aware that an event of this magnitude requires years of preparation," Kimblee interrupts dryly, but Envy's grin is contagious, and he himself can't quell the feeling of anticipation stirring inside him. He'll stake his life on this; he'll stake his soul on the chance to see the homunculi's game through.
"You'll have fun," says Envy fondly, and Kimblee nods silently, unable to stifle a grin; there's so much work to do, such beautiful work, and such fascinating coworkers.
46. — skies
Thick clouds of smoke spiral into the heavens. An entire Ishvalan settlement, destroyed instantly. Kimblee's ears ring; his hands shake uncontrollably. This Stone is a wonderful thing, but, perhaps, it's too much for him—
"Don't stop!" Envy's laughing. The sweet sound is an exquisite counterpoint to the sound of crumbling stone and the moans of the half-alive. "See that?" They point to the red sky, to the sun obscured by chemical clouds. "You did that. You blocked out the sun. And you can do it again."
It's a command, not a suggestion. "Very well," he says, and claps his hands.
17. — audience
Envy leans against the wall, runs their fingers through their short hair, and watches Kimblee negotiate.
Envy might be physically disguised, dressed in military blue, but Kimblee has an actor's personality. His expressions are exquisite. The smile seems so natural, almost reaching his eyes; he seems almost like an ordinary man.
Envy hides a snicker behind their soldier's scowl. As if he was. This soft, smiling man is a pale imitation of Kimblee's true self, and yet it's convincing.
Kimblee's eyes catch theirs for an instant. They suddenly wonder if his performance is better because of who's watching him today.
50. — punctual
Envy's two hours late.
At least, they seem late, because they always come around seven o'clock, and Kimblee reads to them, and they sit together in silence.
Kimblee sprawls across the couch, the way that Envy always does. He closes his eyes, trying to imagine what could be keeping them, wondering if something happened, or if tonight is the night that Envy has finally grown bored with him.
He's not disappointed, not really. He was prepared for this.
He isn't worried. He never is.
But he does feel something, and he hates it; it feels wrong to feel so much.
11. — heartbeat
"Does it hurt?"
"No." Kimblee answers too quickly, his voice still rougher than it should be. "It's fine. You did wonderfully."
Not wonderfully enough, Envy almost says, but doesn't. Silently, their fingers softly trace the dark scars on his neck. They come to the artery, feeling his heart race beneath their fingertips.
"Will you tell me why you saved me now?" he murmurs.
"I was… jealous. I had something for the first time. And I wasn't going to lose—" Their voice breaks.
Kimblee's hand guides Envy's head to his shoulder. "You didn't," he says, and Envy finally lets themself cry.
A/N: Thanks for reading, everyone! Have a good Christmas if you celebrate it!