Draped in Wires
by. Poisoned Scarlet
Theme 004: Love
He admitted he wasn't the most romantic bud in the bouquet but could anyone really blame him? All his life he had been surrounded by innumerable amounts of danger and all his life he had been plagued with insecurities and tragedies and angst he really did not want to experience again if he could help it.
He laid on his back on the couch, feet hanging off the edge and making his pride swell a bit. He remembered when he fit snugly into the couch and even left enough space for another person to sit, usually Winry.
That brought him back to the current dilemma: the woman was giving him the cold shoulder and it had been two days already and he was getting sick and tired of seeing her irritated mood ruin his own.
A book laid flat over his face and he pretended to sleep when he heard Al and Mei cross the living room; talking about going to the store to buy a few things Winry needed to prepare lunch. Once the door closed, he allowed a sigh to escape him.
He didn't know what to do.
He was at a loss.
He kind of wished that guy at the tavern was around the corner so he could help him out with this, lame as it might sound, girl problem. He had a feeling that if he tried his first option, which was going right up to her and demanding what the hell had her so damn pissy, it'd only earn him a few violent smacks across the face and perhaps a deck in the stomach or two.
He could try to talk it out as his brother had often said: civilly. But that was a two-way deal and Winry was fond of resolving her issues with a casual swing of her precious wrench – just like he had no problem knocking your lights out if it shut you up for a few minutes.
But with Winry that option had to be thrown out the window. He had to figure out another way to solve his current issue...
"Just dive right in!"
Dive right in, huh?
"Go for it!"
Go for it, huh?
He wished for his blistering red coat in that moment. The color red always had a sort of pump-up effect on him. It got him all fired up; ready for all or nothing and brought out a confidence he usual exuded in excess but did not really have most of the time.
But he had lost his red coat somewhere and he didn't have his alchemy anymore so he couldn't make another one. He did not want to ask Alphonse to make it for him, as creating the original coat was something personal to him, so without it he supposed he'd just need to find another thing that brought up those energized emotions.
He heard dishes clanking in the kitchen, roughly, angerly, and he sighed.
Screw it.
He tossed the book to the side, intent on solving this issue before it escalated into anything bigger. He would know: he had let their fights sometimes reach epic proportions and he would tell you that trying to fix those problems caused more harm than good – especially when it came down to his skull and other bodily parts.
"Go for it!"
What else did he have to lose but a couple of excess neurons?
"Just dive right in!"
He stood by the kitchen threshold, Winry's bustling filling the vast silence of the house, and felt his confident plummet to the floor the instant he caught sight of her brash, jerky moves; a sign of her anger.
Oh, crap, what was I thinking? he thought in horror, about to pivot on his heel and just dart right out of her sight when the girl caught him standing by the archway and asked, rather irked: "Did you want something?"
Think of something! Now! "Uh, yeah, just a cup of water." He stiffly walked to the cabinet and grabbed a cup from the upper shelve, pouring some water into it from the faucet. He would swear he felt Winry's eyes burn into his back overpoweringly as he gulped down the water and served himself another glass nervously.
Okay, do it now, he thought, taking a slow breath to steady his heart. The most she could do to him was hit him on the head right? And he'd had a lot of those and recovered well enough... "Winry, I—!"
"Let me guess," Winry began bitingly, as she stored the lettuce back into the fridge. "You're really, really sorry that you couldn't write because you were just too busy to bother with a letter or too tired to even try?" she finished flatly, shutting the fridge door and leaning against it knowingly.
Ed frowned. "That wasn't what I was going to say," he replied, annoyed.
"Oh, really? Then what were you going to say, I'd love to hear it!" she taunted.
"When'd you get so snippy?" Ed scowled, not liking her smart attitude. "I don't remember you being such a—wait, nevermind," he smirked at her thinned lips.
"You better watch your mouth, Ed, or you'll get it," she warned, tone dark, somehow rousing something rather daring inside of him.
"Or I'll get what?" he risked, crossing his arms with a cocky smirk. This was what he meant about the confidence he so-often exuded but did not have – he certainly felt as if he were letting the blade sink into his stomach and it frankly terrified him. "A wrench stuck in my skull? That ain't anything new," he shrugged, hiding his nervous swallow by cracking his knuckles. "I'll just sleep it off like I always do."
"How about a spoon then?" she growled. "Or a fork? Or a goddamn spatula!" She rose the utensil, making whatever confident buzz he had been on crash and burn.
"...That-that looks like it'll hurt a lot," he gulped, eying the spatula apprehensively. His crossed arms dropped and he sighed, scratching his right arm; a nervous habit he had acquired ever since he restored his the limb. "Look, can we just—fix this?"
"Fix what?"
"Don't play dumb, Winry," he said, annoyed. "I know you've been ignoring me."
"Well, it shouldn't make much of a difference since apparently I'm not important enough to even send one goddamn letter to just to know if you were alive or not!" she exploded, slamming the spatula on the counter and making several pans jump.
Ed felt his jaw slack.
So that had been what was bothering her? It wasn't because he had totally dissed a princess whom happened to have a crush on his little brother?
Oh, don't I feel stupid, he groaned inwardly, rolling his eyes upward as the reason for her anger seemed so obvious now. "Winry, you know that's not true!"
"Really? Well, you're not showing it very well, are you?" she sneered, sapphire eyes boiling with rage. Then they lapsed into a vulnerable glaze. "When you came back to me with that trashed automail I was really worried about what you were getting yourself into," she confessed, concern creasing her brows. "How do you think it makes me feel when you go nearly two years without a single word? Not even to your own brother?" she shouted, feeling tears brim her eyes. "I thought something horrible had happened to you...I was so worried...you don't know how worried I was..."
Whatever anger he had previously felt drained away at the sight of her watering blue eyes and shaking shoulders. He had forgotten what other way she could hurt him: her tears. He hated it when she cried and he felt horrible for putting her under such stress when he could've sent a simple letter every few months just to keep her alerted that he was still alive and kicking.
She blinked and a few tears flaked down her cheeks.
His stomach twisted.
"Don't cry," he sighed, stepping closer to her. "Okay, so maybe it was all my fault but you seriously shouldn't worry so much." He hesitantly wiped the droplets away from her cheek with his hand. "Some retarded criminal isn't going to make me bite the dust, even if I don't have alchemy to back me up this time around." His hand trembled on her cheek. He could feel tension wind his body, make him break out in cold sweat. "So don't cry just because I was a jackass...You don't deserve it."
She wiped her eyes out and looked back up at him. He could see the forgiveness in her eyes and that made the load on his chest fall off. Just looking down at her, into the warm pools of blue, made his heartbeat pick up and made another emotion begin to simmer in his chest.
The same fear was back and pressing; pressuring him into doing something he now felt ready for, the longer he gazed into her pretty blue eyes. His hand was still on her cheek, he was close enough to lean down. It would take no time at all to close the distance between them—!
"I guess you're right," she giggled, giving him a quick hug that made him as stiff as a board. "You're too stupid to die right!" She let go, laughing; feeling happier than before.
The moment was shattered and he solely blamed himself for over-thinking it so damn much.
Edward felt his anger spike, annoyed she had ruined the mind-blowing kiss he had been about to deliver, and nastily said: "Oh, so you want me to go ahead and kick the bucket? Thanks for your concern but it's not welcomed!"
"You can't, you're too dumb, remember?" she smugly shot back.
"Ngh!" Ed threw his hands up in the air. "You're impossible! You start cryin' 'cause you thought I went out and got myself killed and now you're saying I can't even die right? I'll never understand women!"
Winry just resumed her task, this time with a cheerful made-up tune and content smile as Edward grumbled back to the couch.