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Summary
Yeah.
Maybe that’s why Ed wants it—why he thinks he can have it.
Ed laughs a little. More a puff of breath than anything else, some dark and quiet thing. For the first time in a long time, he feels like he fits inside of his skin. He feels molten. Feels like the sea itself, endless and restless. He reaches up and takes down his hair, lets the long fall of it drape around him.
He says, “Not gonna fuck you, Hands.” and watches the flicker of disappointment across Hands’ face with satisfaction so sweet it aches.
Series
- Part 15 of Hymn's Fic: Our Flag Means Death Collection
