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She was beautiful.
Her hair was down and it shone in the dazzling lights of the ballroom, illuminating every shade of blonde from wheat, the color of Al's, to gold, the same color as my own. Her dress was magnificent; baby blue to match her innocent, lovely eyes, and it was something she'd never wear outside of this evening. She liked to dress in more functional clothes: cargo pants with huge pockets for her tools, tube tops that let her torso breathe while covering up the bare essentials, and puffy jackets that kept her warm when she truly needed it, but she deserved to wear gorgeous dresses like the one she wore now-- dresses that fit her curves perfectly and ascended into sparkling, voluminous skirts that luxuriously fell to her ankles. She was even wearing heels-- I could hear them as she walked towards me and grasped my arm.
She pulled me to the dance floor and my hands fell, finding respite at her waist as she wrapped her arms around my neck and moved slowly to the sound of the band while we embraced.
Alphonse and I had told her that it was mandatory we attend the military ball, and so she insisted to come with. It hadn't been known whom she accompanied--Alphonse or myself-- she just sort of tagged along. But with her head against my chest and her warmth pressed against me as we swayed, I suddenly wondered if it were me that her sights were set on.
I knew she liked me, of course. We'd grown up together and she was my trusted mechanic. Sure, I got on every one of her last nerves and felt the consequences with every pounding she delivered, but I knew she never meant any harm; it was just her strange, aggressive way of showing affection. But we were teenagers now, almost adults, and though I had never thought about our relationship changing, here we were, dancing to a romantic song while she contently sighed against the lapel of my suit.
I suddenly felt uncomfortable. And it wasn't just because I was wearing a suit.
Sure, me and Al joked around as kids about who would end up marrying her, but he always won, so I always figured that they would end up together. But now that I was thinking about it, she had always had eyes for me. Our bickering always overpowered conversations between the three of us and I could see Alphonse becoming a third wheel. Suddenly, I wondered how he thought about her. Would he rather be the one dancing with her? I never imagined it would be me, yet part of me wanted to feel lucky, because, I mean, I got the girl, right? Alphonse was a good sport. We had witnessed her grow into a beautiful woman, so her feelings about me must've changed along with her... that's how it worked, right? The problem was that I had done nothing but grown taller, and my feelings had stayed the same. She was beautiful, stunning even, but I couldn't picture myself being with her in that way. It felt weird-- my feelings were too platonic, but could I grow to love her? Love her the same way that she could loved me? Could I caress her, could I bring her pleasure, could I be there for her, and could I love her? My hands must have wandered while I thought, for I was suddenly feeling the rough lace of her bodice under my calloused hands as they traced up along the curve of her waist. It felt as if my large, rough hands didn't belong in such a lovely place.
She looked up at me with sparkling eyes. "Edward?" she whispered.
She was so delicate in this dress, so unlike how she usually was. Her eyes had never witnessed death and her skin had never been marred--she didn't know war and she wouldn't ever need to. She was precious to me in a way that I couldn't describe, and my touch would taint her, ruin her with my toxic thoughts and my dark demons. I had frequent night terrors about things that I would never want to share with her, and my spouts of depression wouldn't go unnoticed. She was nosy and demanded to know everything, but I couldn't ever do that to her. I couldn't bring her down with me, into the dark pit I had spiraled into ever since Mom's death. I couldn't be what she wanted.
She was a princess and she deserved a prince. I was nothing of the sort.
Her lips were parted and she was looking at me with expectancy. Could I kiss her? Would it be right? Did I want to kiss her for my own pleasure, or did I just want to make her happy? I loved her, but was it how she wanted me to? She was so, so beautiful.
But I could feel my brother's eyes, and thus I just couldn't bring myself to close the distance between our lips. Not because he was watching, but because I couldn't lie to myself so much as to to make such a bold statement of my feelings with a sealing act like taking a kiss from her, staking her as mine. It would have been our first kiss, together and separately. My feelings weren't so prominent that I could just make this woman mine on a whim; I didn't deserve her, no matter what she could say to get me to believe I did.
She was so lovely, but I couldn't love her, not like Alphonse could, and I couldn't let her settle for me.
"Edward…" She could see the frustration on my face: my wrinkled brow, my crooked frown, the stumble in my step… the hesitation must have given her the hint and I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before leaning in to give her a fleeting peck on the cheek.
"Winry, I'm sorry."
She knew, of course. As much as she never wanted to accept it, I could see it in her disappointed eyes as she looked down at my chest to avoid my stare.
We finished the dance, just me holding her as we swayed, and she left without a word, her hand lingering on my shoulder a second too long before she made her way back to Alphonse.
I was glad that I hadn't kissed her when I saw my brother's face light up as she returned to him.
Soon, I found myself at the punch, staring into the bowl as I thoughtlessly zoned out, drinking the juice dazedly. I felt like I had lost something in that dance with her, yet I was happy for her at the same time. Me and her, we could've worked in the present, but I gave her a past and Alphonse was the one who could give her a future. That's just how it was, and I wasn't going to deny it to myself. It was exactly how my brother and I worked; I was stuck in my own history; I couldn't move on, I was scarred, angry, and broken. But Alphonse? He was hope. He never gave up, he always fought on, and he had ambitions and aspirations that any woman could fall in love with along with his calm, polite self.
"Fullmetal."
I looked up, turning to see him there.
I rarely ever saw him out of uniform, but low and behold, the bastard looked smug as always, even without the rank of colonel ablaze on his shoulder. His dark hair was slicked back, but rebel strands that couldn't be tamed bent over his forehead. It was strange seeing his whole face without hair shielding his eyes-- he seemed more honest somehow.
I didn't mean to check him out, but I'd never seen him in a suit before. It was so slimming in contrast to his bulky uniform, and it looked like it had been tailored just for him, judging by how well it seemed to fit.
Even if he looked nice, I still hated him. He turned his gaze upwards from checking me out(not like I could say anything, for I just did the same to him) and smirked so that I knew he was about to say something especially irritating.
And that's exactly what he did.
"My, my, Fullmetal. That really…" his lips twitched upwards, "… suits you."
His stupid pun made me see red and I hated him even more than I could ever imagine.
"Fuck off, Mustang. I don't need your shit."
And all fell silent.
I'm sure he could tell I wasn't having the best night and was choosing not to say anything, for as much as an asshole that he was, he wasn't stupid, and, for the most part, knew when to keep his trap shut. But whenever he was around, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up like an irritated feline and I was always hyper-aware of his overbearing presence, so even though I had turned away from him, I could tell he was still lingering beside me.
I took a sip of my punch and listened as he got a cup of his own.
He didn't leave, and I was beginning to get nervous. Why was he sticking around?
I turned a little towards him to make sure he wasn't doing anything suspicious out of the corner of my eye, but I somehow ended up looking towards the dance floor. A knot burned in my throat when I realized that Alphonse had convinced her to go on the floor with him, and they were swaying around now, him leading her with his gloved hand.
They looked so good. He spun her out and she laughed, spinning back in only to splay her hands across his chest as they danced. They were having a good time.
Out of the corner of my eye, a glass raised pointedly at the dance floor.
I eyed him wearily, wondering what he was gesturing at before I turned to focus on the other noticeable pair that was dancing; Hawkeye and Havoc.
Oh.
I always figured that with Hawkeye always beside him, both in battle and the office, that they would be together in a romantic sense. But there she was, in Havoc's embrace on the floor as they danced among the other couples. They looked natural together, and I could tell by the way Havoc held her that this wasn't something new to them.
I wondered how much the man beside me could relate to my current situation, or if his story was entirely different. I turned to him, only to stare as his sad eyes followed the couple on the dance floor.
"Isn't she beautiful?"
I agreed, and asked the same about Winry.
He agreed.
"They look good together."
I didn't know which couple he was talking about, but the observation seemed to apply to both, so I merely gave him a nod.
Thinking about it darkly, our situation was humorous. Here we were, moping at the punch table about girls and love, when we have probably done things more fucked up than anyone in this ballroom could imagine. He was a murderer; he had slaughtered hundreds of Ishvallans in the war—women, children, all the like—and I was a fuck up, a double amputee guilty of human transmutation who had literally punched 'God' in the face.
The gate, his sight, my limbs, the war, our pasts—none of it seemed to matter as we stood there, watching them dance, but the sadness that I could feel weighing down on the both us was almost suffocating and I couldn't even fathom why. I felt like crying over something as simple as my brother dancing with a girl, yet I hadn't even shed a tear when a metal beam had impaled my side.
Nothing made sense, and I wondered what he was thinking as he stared at me with that knowing gaze of his.
My ears caught as the song ended and the band prepared for a new one.
He set his glass down and offered me his hand.
I stopped and looked at him. Really looked at him.
My commanding officer, the man who had saved me from myself so long ago, physically had many years on me. But with that pushed to the side, we were so alike in so many ways. We were both fucked up in the head; I can see it when he thinks he's alone and rubs at his temples like he'd wish nothing more in the world than to fall asleep and never wake up. Yet, when I had been the one without hope, he was the one to spark it back into me, no pun intended.
He drove me up the fucking wall all the goddamn time. His teasing and prodding was enough to make anyone crazy and he seemed to think that he was the smartest shit in the whole damn world. I was hot-tempered when I was younger, and even though I've calmed down a bit since those days, he was one of the only people who could still make me truly wish I could use alchemy again, if only to transmute his mouth shut. He evokes feelings in me that I no one else could, that I didn't know I had, that I never wanted to know I had, all ranging on different scales of irritation and homicidal urges. Yet, he made me feel, and that was an amazing thing during my bouts of apathy after the Promised Day.
We respected each other, though neither of us would admit it, and we trusted each other in a much deeper sense of the word. Sure, if I gave him my drink and asked him not to take a sip while I visited the bathroom, I wouldn't trust him not to, but if my life were in his hands, I knew that he would take care of me.
And he was smart, smarter than anyone else I knew(besides Alphonse of course) and when neither of us were looking to pick a fight, conversation actually flowed easily between us. That's hard for me to do with anyone else, having never bothered to learn necessary social skills to survive in the non-adult world. I'd skipped that stage in my life, where I would've learned to talk to kids my own age, and went straight into the military. It's understandable that I had trouble. But he knew-- I mean, it was his fault--and so he never pressured me to partake in small talk, only really talking when there was something to be said(unless just to irritate me), and I appreciated that. I knew he wasn't stupid. I'd even tried my hand at learning flame alchemy and it was hard as shit. And if I went off on a tangent about alchemy, he'd follow right along, and that in itself was a rare thing for me to come by in this world. That was probably a trait I'd rarely or never find in another person outside of family.
He had seen me at my worst, and witnessed me at my best. I trusted him.
I took his hand. Why not?
He smiled, wrapping his fingers around mine as he led me to the dance floor without a word. His hold on my hand was delicate and I wondered if he were nervous, but the confident air he wore all the time was difficult to see through. I was sure myself that my own face was red.
The floor welcomed us and I wondered how we were going to dance. He hesitated as well before gently placing his hands on my waist. It felt odd, but I wasn't sure I didn't like it, which I supposed was a good thing as I reached up to lace my arms around his neck, like how she had danced with me. He was still a good few inches taller than me, so it was only natural that he played the lead, right? Besides, I'm sure he knew that if he made one short-joke or girl-joke, I'd leave his ass on the floor.
But he didn't, and we danced.
I was surprised to find that he actually knew a dance other than swaying around like the other couples, and I was quickly swept along with it after softly being told to follow his lead. Stumbling a few times, I eventually caught the rhythm and was following along without a hitch.
"You always were a fast learner, Edward."
He didn't call me Fullmetal.
"Up yours, Roy."
I was smiling and he chuckled, stepping forward as I stepped back, only to step to the side with me following. I found myself grinning as the band continued to play and he lead me in the dance. It was fun and his eyes shone, but eventually the song ended and our steps slowed as we blended back into the crowd.
I was a little winded and leaned forward to rest my forehead against his chest.
"Another?" he asked.
I nodded against him.
But this time, we didn't do anything exciting; we just swayed, my forehead against his chest, gazing at the buttons on his suit while his thumb rubbed my waist. The song was slower than the last and it was a moment before we spoke again.
"I didn't deserve her," he said, though I almost hadn't heard him.
I didn't say anything. I understood all too well and at that moment, our ages, ranks, and statuses didn't even matter. We were both broken, scarred individuals who were trapped in our pasts in the worst kind of way, and looking up at him, I found him gazing at me with those dark, piercing eyes, and I knew he knew.
What were we even entitled, as fucked up as we were? What did we deserve with all of the shitty things we've done?
We were trying to move on, but it took time. Scars don't heal forever, and other people don't realize the true pain that we felt. But I understood--he and I were one of the same. We had done our fair share of messing up, but we were done with it. We were making our ways in the world, one step at a time. He was on his way to Führer, to fix the mistake that he regretted so deeply in the past. I had gotten Alphonse's body back, but what was next for me?
I had been sticking around to make sure Alphonse was okay, but I was only living to fix my mistakes—if I hadn't had Alphonse around, I probably would've ruined myself before I knew it. Alphonse had her now, and I was left with nothing. No one to be with, no purpose to serve, nowhere to go, and no place to be.
I tightened my hold around his shoulders, pulling myself closer to him. He responded by wrapping his arms around my waist as he rested his chin on my shoulder. It was intimate, the way we were holding each other, and I wasn't used to it from my superior officer, but this wasn't the Colonel that I was holding. No, this was someone much more important.
He gave me a past, danced me through my present, and he could be my future.
I asked myself the questions that I had asked when I had been dancing with her.
Could I love him?
Undoubtedly. That didn't mean I had to like him, though.
Could I caress this man?
My hand fell from his shoulders and down his back as the fingers on my other hand brushed against his neck. His body was hard against mine, warm and strong. I realized, of course, that he was a very good looking man, and his smell was nearly addicting. Strangely enough, I felt attracted to him in a way stronger than just visuals. His shaggy hair, his pale skin, his stupid smirk and his dark eyes… When had I begun to feel this way? Had he always had this affect on me?
It didn't really matter.
But could I be there for him?
I've heard the stories. He was the Hero of Ishval, labeled by the Amestrian Military. I knew how he felt about the name and I've heard about all the shit he did in the war. It was sick to even imagine-- burning all of those children, slaughtering a whole race of people. It must've been traumatizing and I couldn't even think about how shitty he must feel about it every single day of his life. His past was worse than mine, no doubt about it, but he would be there for me, so I would give my life to be there for him. I would do anything in my power to help him, to keep him from falling into the past like I so often do.
Thinking about what his nightmares must be like made me tighten my hold around him, and he did the same.
I would be there for him.
When he needed me, when he wanted me, when he woke up, sweating and screaming, I would be there. And he would be there for me. It would be easy for us to understand each other, for we were both the same.
I ran a hand through the shorter hairs on the back of his head and felt him give a little shiver. I smiled and my mind wandered, wondering about his body; where his scars were, his sensitive spots, what he was insecure about, what his favorite parts about himself were…
He was warm against me and I could still feel it between us as we pulled back enough to look at each other.
"What are we doing?" I joked, laughing.
"I don't know."
And he lifted a hand to my cheek, cupping it as he leaned in.
I almost thought he was going to kiss me, but we just stared at each other. I watched his eyes move back and forth between mine, and I wondered what was going through his mind. I could see his thoughts moving quickly behind his black eyes, and knew he was worrying over shit by the way he pursed at his lips before tightening them into a straight line.
"Is this weird?" he suddenly asked.
"I thought it would be, but it's not. Not really."
He nodded, processing my words as he continued to think.
I didn't have anywhere to go. Alphonse would probably want to be alone with her tonight, and she was visiting from Risembool, so I'd let them have the run of the dorm. He was okay without me now that he had her there, so I didn't serve any purpose.
My purpose had been Alphonse, but now he's all taken care of and I've got nowhere to go.
Though I was lost, the man I was holding knew exactly where he wanted to go and he knew exactly what he wanted to be. I had completed my journey, but he still had a long ways to go. He had been such a huge factor in my quest, it was only right that I support him on his own.
I could definitely love this man.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked.
I scoffed. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
And I reached up to kiss him.