Rin_Nico



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    Edward WISHED he could remember what had happened to them. The last clear memory he had was of him trudging after Mustang as he strode into their shared hotel room, documents in hand and trying to tempt Edward with the idea of a spaghetti dinner at the nearby dinner with the promise of letting him have whatever dessert he wanted when his memory grew hazy, like a dream he was trying too hard to remember.

    Mustang was still breathing, deep, regular breaths, which was the only solace that Edward could take that he wasn’t near death because he wouldn’t freaking wake up. He really hoped that whatever they had been given, liquid or otherwise, wasn’t fatal, because with his automail out of commission, Edward depended on the bastard to escape their makeshift prison.

    And maybe because he was just a little bit worried about him. Just a little. The tiniest, smallest amount of worry.

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    16 Nov 2025