Work Text:
I.
Serious.
He was always too serious, never smiling, distancing himself from others. But distancing himself not in a way that made one think that he thought himself above their company, but in the way that made you realize he was afraid to get close to anyone, afraid to be left behind.
It made her curious.
He was an intelligent man. An alchemist. But he was too quiet and too watchful, like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
She wanted to see him smile. She was sure he had a lovely smile. With gold hair and gold eyes, if he smiled she imagined that he would shine like the sun.
So she asked him to dinner.
He said no. Those gold eyes of his surprised. Polite. Cautious. But not disinterested.
So she asked him again.
No.
And again.
No.
Stubborn.
This man was as stubborn as he was serious.
Well, two could play at that game. If he was serious and stubborn then she’d be stubborn and persistent.
An Elric always got what they wanted.
II.
Persistent brat.
The first words he thought of in regards to the Elric girl, Trisha.
The girl –and he called her a girl because he was hundreds of years older than her and everyone was a child in his eyes – seemed quite taken with him despite the cool and reserved attitude he directed towards her.
Yet she didn’t seem to care about his feigned disinterest.
Her blue-green eyes would sparkle and she would just toss him an almost knowing smile and promise him, “Next time then, my dear Hohenheim.”
One would think, as old as he was, he would be a master in patience and possess the skills to dismiss her kindly; that an 20 year old girl would be unable to bend him to her will.
But she was so stubborn!
Three months later he found himself accepting her invitation to dinner, wondering what the hell he was getting himself into.
III.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous.
It was strange how 300 years and a more or less immortal body tended to mellow a person out. After all, it wasn’t as if he had to worry about accidents or illness or sudden death. So it had been a very, very long time since he had felt anything akin to fear.
No, what had him so on edge wasn’t anything fatal – not unless you took the girl’s temper into account; he’d only been fortunate enough to have witnessed it once, and thank the gate it wasn’t directed at him, though, he pitied the poor bastard who’d insulted her mother’s memory and had gotten the tongue lashing in turn for his efforts. She was usually such a sweet polite thing, with a dash of mischief and a beautiful smile. And she had his stomach turning, his pulse racing, and his heart trying to crawl its way out of his throat.
Trisha Elric.
She had him terrified.
Or, to be precise, his first date with Trisha Elric had him terrified.
He was sure that it wasn’t fair for a little girl to be able to reduce him to a trembling, sweating, nervous wreck.
For the hundredth time that evening, he tugged on the tie he was wearing, convinced it was choking him, as he walked shakily up the front steps of her house, praying his knees wouldn’t collapse and that he’d have the courage to knock on her front door.
He’d go in the house and have dinner as planned. They’d have a wonderful time and she’d ask him for a second date because the girl wanted him and he was far too weak to say no to her. Because he was already in love with her – had been since the first time he’d turned her down and she’d given him that smile that said she’d not give up on him.
But this would end badly, he knew, because really there was nowhere for this relationship to go. He was practically immortal and she was human. She would notice, as time passed that he did not age, that he could not get sick, and that even though there would be accidents he would not be harmed or die. It would lead to the inevitable question. The shock. The revulsion. And even if, in the end, she accepted him, in the time it would take him to blink she would be gone, her time in this world up, and he would be left behind, heartbroken.
If he had any compassion at all he would have made it clear that he couldn’t be with her. If he truly loved her he would turn around and pack his few belongings and leave this tiny town in the east, never to return, freeing her from this terrible fate. If, if, if…
He was afraid.
He was afraid because he already knew how this would end, knew how her life would be wasted on him, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from knocking on that solid oak front door, cold sweat trickling down his back.
The door swung open and she stepped out with a smile meant only for him, the smell of stew heavy on the air, and he wanted to cry because she owned him so completely, and he was helpless against her.