AN: Passion Beneath The Cherry Blossoms is a FMA fanfic told only from the point of view of Roy Mustang. This is a primarily Roy/Ed fic. That means there is Yaoi in here. Possible sex scenes at a later date. Thanks for the reviews.

After following him for three and a half blocks, I watched Edward stumble toward the entrance of our apartment. With a bit of difficulty, he managed to half-fall through the entryway, shutting the chestnut door behind him. Outside, I decided to wait a few moments before joining my bisque-haired lover. Had I simply followed him inside, I would have aroused suspicion. Even in his intoxicated state, there was still a chance he would question whether or not I had been trailing behind him.

After roughly five minutes, there was a crash from within the walls of our abode. The sound of shattering glass erupted as it hit the hard floor. Then silence fell. There was no sound for a moment. But then my heart was almost strangled with anxiety as I heard small, quiet sobs coating the still night. I knew without a doubt that they were Edward's cries.

Now I was faced with a predicament. Should I enter, giving myself away, or should I remain latent outside, waiting for a better time to enter? Regrettably, I chose the latter. At the time, I thought surely that Edward would be able to avoid being injured from whatever had broken, even if he was swelling with liquor. And it was probably just the liquor that was upsetting him. There was a possibility, considering I'd never seen him drink so much before, that he was merely a sad drunk.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

As I turned the copper-colored knob, I exposed myself to the true horrors of my paramour's somber state. Sanguine fluid oozed from the pale virgin flesh of Edward's wrist. In his metal hand he held a silver shard of mirror. He plunged the reflective glass into his arm, dragging it down horizontally. Crimson blood had been splattered across our kitchen tile, staining its calm tan color a red shade of pain.

My eyes widened. "Edward?"

He looked up at me, realizing he'd been caught in the act.

I stood, momentarily frozen in place by the scene before me. Edward didn't say anything, but in that fraction of a second I watched a drop of blood fall from his arm. When the drop hit the floor, I ran.

"Edward!" In half a second, I was on the floor with him, struggling to wrench the mirror piece out of his hand. It was clear to me that this wasn't some accident. "Edward, give it to me!"

"No!" he yelled. I was surprised by the gruffness of his voice. He was like a dog gone mad, rabid. I could almost feel him breaking.

"Fork it over!" I commanded again, and finally managed to rip the glass from his hand. I threw it across the room and addressed my shattered love. "Why are you doing this?!"

Edward was quiet. He didn't look me in the eye. He avoided my glance.

I looked down at the only human arm he had left. His skin was still bleeding where he'd cut it. I was suddenly so angry that I couldn't stop myself. If only I'd rushed in sooner! I could have stopped him from hurting himself like this! I could have helped him! I shook him by his shoulders and cried, "How could you do this to yourself?!"

Edward was scared. With eyes wide he whispered, "Roy, I'm sorry, I—"

"No you're not," I growled. Then he looked at me. All the pain in his eyes made my anger disappear as suddenly as it had come. "Edward," I held his head in my hands and kissed his brow. "Are you trying to hurt me?"

That got his attention. "What?" he said. "No! Never, I—"

"If you take a blade to your skin," I murmured, "You may as well be taking one to mine."

"Roy, I have no idea what you . . ." He raised his eyebrows, "Oh my god, Roy! Stop!"

But it was too late. I'd already picked up a fine sliver of mirror and pulled back my sleeve, pressing the tiny blade into my skin, carving the name of my love.

"E-D . . . W-A . . . R-D," I said aloud, writing the letters quickly. I had to bite my lip against the pain. Tiny beads of blood began to bloom and fall from the homemade tattoo, like flower petals.

"Roy, stop!" Edward pleaded. Again there were tears in his eyes. "Please," he begged. "Please!"

I did stop, but only for a moment. "What I'm doing is an act of love, not hate. Can the same be said for what you have done? No." I leaned into him. "Edward," I kissed him once more, softer this time, "You have to tell me what's troubling you. How can I go on, knowing you're hurting like this?"

He opened his mouth, wanting to tell me, but then decided against it. "I can't," he said. "I want to, I really do, but . . ."

I raised an eyebrow at him and finished with, "E-L . . . R-I . . . C," on my arm, right under his first name.

"Roy," he whispered. His eyes pleaded with me not to do any more.

I smiled. "Unless you've got a middle name you've forgotten to tell me, I think that's all there is to do."

Edward shook his head fervently.

"No?" I smiled again. "Alright." I pulled him close to me and wrapped my arms around him, kissing him again. "Now tell me what's wrong, Edward. You know I love you. I love you more than anything. I can help you. I want to help you! All you have to do is tell me what's wrong."

I watched Edward bite his lip in thought. But a moment later, in a soft slur, he mumbled, "Roy, I just can't bear to break your heart."

I grasped his warm shoulders, gazing down at him. "Well I can't bear to see your heart broken anymore."

My head lowered and our lips met. It began softly, like the tickle of the wind in the springtime. But it became more passionate as time passed. Our lips were brought together by a bind of love; the only key to unlock us was the need to breathe. I nibbled his bottom lip, as he tried to suppress his moans. Our tongues protruded and danced like the flamenco dancer women of Mexico, making smooth swings and dips.

However, it wasn't all so clean and graceful. I pounded him with my tongue. I bit and chewed on his oral projections. He bled, I swallowed, and he moaned begging for more. I wanted to know him inside and out. I wanted to taste his blood and feel the entirety of his body as it shivered from my arduous physical love. I wanted to know my Edward.

Before we could go any further, he began to drift off, completely worn out. I wanted more, but I knew it was best to let him be. Perhaps it was for the better I didn't steal away his entire innocence that night. It may have deepened his already bleeding mental wound.

I was glad that Edward was already in my arms. It made it much easier for me to lift him off the floor and carry him to our room.

Though the room was dark, I still managed to find the bed without any problems. It was as familiar to me as Edward. It was home.

I lowered him carefully onto the padded comforter before climbing into bed next to him. I watched him as my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. His breathing was soft, comforting. It was a disturbing contrast to the shock that overpowered the previous events of the night. He'd cut himself, and not innocent kitty scratches either. There had to be something terribly wrong… and he wouldn't tell me what it was. Why wouldn't he? His arm was turned away from me as if he didn't want me to see his cuts. I felt the indents on my own arm, thinking about him. He looked so childish next to me. I wanted to hold him but didn't want to risk disturbing his sleep.

I sighed. Why had this happened? Only a few minutes earlier into our apartment and I could have saved him. I could've stopped him from hurting himself. Why had I waited? I couldn't remember now. My reasoning had become muddled.

I lied down next to him. His face on the pillow next to mine was so calm. I closed my eyes, willing the events of that night to disappear. Despair settled over me. Was there nothing I could do?

I edged closer to him. All I wanted was to protect him. I wanted him to be happy. But how could I protect him from himself?

AN: R&R