My 6th grade diary,
The bottle of wine under my bed,
The first and second Ryan,
The only Sam,
That finished pack of cigarettes,
The letter she wrote me,
(more) The night with the kitchen drawer,
The cemetery trip on graduation day,
All those mix CDs I kept,
All those memories I kept,
Every dream I ever had of you.(less)
Sometimes it unsettled Edward how quickly this had become the norm; waking up in a bed with another person beside him, a warm breathing body that he could touch and feel. Alphonse - it's not that he didn't know where Edward disappeared to some nights, he just pretended he(more) didn't, because there was no way that Edward was successfully keeping this from his little brother. Al knew everything, he always did.
He rolled up on his side, the sheet sliding down over his waist as he looked over at Mustang. Roy was either still asleep or faking it (the second one, assuredly, Roy didn't like to show weakness, even to his lover in bed), but his breathing was still soft, and his mouth was slightly open. Edward stared at him, feeling that strange, warm fuzzy feeling in his belly that had become an almost permanent fixture when he looked at the man, and smiled.
This was so WEIRD, how could he not...? Edward leaned over Roy, his hair loose and tangled down his back, and ran his hand down Roy's jaw. He closed his mouth at Edward's touch, but his eyes still did not open. "Faker," Edward murmured, and leaned down to kiss Roy's forehead.
Hell, he wasn't allowed to have something like this. He still had a duty and an obligation to Alphonse - that was supposed to come first, not his hormones. The guilt weighed off him like a physical thing, but he couldn't help that - any more than he could help being captivated by Roy's dark eyes and skilled (if snarky) mouth.
A smile tugged at the corner of that same mouth, and Edward pushed at his shoulder. "Faker, open your eyes," he said.
Roy's voice was sleepy. "I don't want to wake from this dream."(less)
She had a fixated gaze on him. The room was stifling with humid air. She wanted to say something but he beat her to it.
"I know what you're gonna say..." He paused, "I just want you to know that I love you more than anything."
Could she trus(more)t him?
Would she allow herself to trust again?
"I...I'm scared." Her lips quivered a bit, trying to work up the guts to continue. "I want to love you again, but...there are circumstances that just make it-"
"Like what?" He interrupted her mid sentence.
She paused and looked down. The tension was rising as well as their heart rates. Still staring at her, he waited for a response.
Was she hiding something?
"...I...I want you know that I love you as well...but I can't allow myself to do that to you." Tears start forming in her eyes.
"I don't want you to just drop me off the face of the planet." More tears are in her ducts.
"I don't understand. I just want things to go back to normal. Back to when there wasn't any complicated bullshit." He steps back, and turns away, he sighs and says, "Is this how things are going to be? Just left here like this? We are going to walk away and drift apart because of dirty little secrets? It's been 7 fucking years..wasted..on bullshit."
"Don't say that! I just don't want anyone getting hurt anymore. I'm trying to walk away on good terms with everyone goddammit!"
"Then fucking tell me! Tell me what it is I should know!"
They stood there, in a brief momentary silence, as if a tornado had swept through the house. She welled up, turned around, and cried. After a few moments of weeping she turned around, and opened her lips...(less)
At the same bar, someone else was watching the room. She had eyes just as green, and hair just as blonde, as the woman Leonard was trying to impersonate. But she wasn't that woman.
No, Mireille Yeuxverts was like no one else among the Jovian moons.
She(more) didn't notice the brothers much at all. She didn't need to. Her eyes could scan the room in a different way - see things others couldn't see - into their hearts, into their deepest desires and fears...
And that's how she found her man.
He was in the uniform of the military of Jupiter. Sleek black and nothing else, save the piping on his collar that showed his rank. A lieutenant commander, Mireille thought to herself. I've done better, gone higher, but this is fine for tonight. The man is good-looking, after all, she thought as he perused his sandy brown hair, and his deep blue, almost black eyes.
She beckoned him to her table shyly, yet flirtatious. He had to know that there was nothing TRULY shy in her gestures, that she made them with all the grace of a highly-accomplished practioner of the art of seduction. She could see from the light in his eyes - and the flutter in his heart - that he was the right one, as he sauntered over to her table.
"So," she whispered to him as he'd sat down, "how is your night so far?"
The lieutenant commander grabbed her hand and kissed it. "Glorious, now that I've spotted you. Assuming you aren't the shapeshifter I've heard of, of course."
She giggled. So she wouldn't have to spit out the ten-letter word of doom, that doomed them all. He knew what she was.
"No, of course not," Mireille sighed. "And glad to see you, too."(less)