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The small fire pops and crackles as another log is added and for a moment Ed leaves the heavy iron door open to watch. It’s a waste of heat to leave the stove open, and considering coal is still in short supply from war rationing he shouldn’t be so impulsive.
But he can’t help it.
His eyes are drawn to the tiny, flickering flame, hungry for more fuel than he can afford to give. He shivers and inches a little bit closer. Germany’s always so damn cold and he’d love to stoke the fire even more, but he won’t. Alfons is out for the evening and he won’t waste more than he needs.
But he’s tempted, and the reason behind it seriously pisses him off.
Ed slams the iron door shut and slides the heavy latch to keep it closed. There are much more important things to worry about right now. He closes his eyes and sighs. According to rumors there’s a madman rising to power that wants to exterminate half of Germany. It’s Ishval all over again except this time…he’s living through it. That’s where his focus needs to be, that and helping Alfons with his research.
Ed runs his hand over his face and shakes his head. He needs to stop acting like a fool because even if the world wasn’t on the edge of disaster there are so many others he should be thinking of now. Al, Winry, Rose, each one are more important to him and each one he’ll never see again. So why is he thinking about a stupid bastard that could make fire with his finger tips?
He grits his teeth and opens his eyes to stare at the heavy, iron stove radiating with heat. It’s not often his thoughts take this turn, but when they do he can’t seem to shake them. The bastard is probably Fuhrer by now, probably found a way even though he’d claimed he gave it up. Whatever he’s doing Ed’s certain it’s not thinking about a stupid kid lost on the other side of the abyss.
So why do his thoughts keep coming back to that smug idiot who probably thinks he’s dead?
Ed pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around them, something that’s not as easy to do as it once was. He’s grown quite a bit over the years and Ed wonders if the bastard would still crack the same short jokes…not that he’ll ever know. He closes his eyes again and rests his forehead on his knees. He always pretends he doesn’t know why he thinks of him, but he does. Mustang was right.
They really are alike.
And somehow Ed knows that he’d understand this lost feeling eating him up inside. Before he came here he wouldn’t have even listed him as a friend. But now, after everything, he’s certain he’s the only one who would really understand. That’s why he misses him so much.
“Fuck you, Mustang.”
~*~*~*~
The struggling flame flickers, nearly going out and Roy leans forward to blow on it carefully as he strategically adds more kindling. He should be much better at this than he is, but somehow the struggle seems appropriate. He knows he could easily draw an array or dig out the gloves he locked away, but he won’t. He won’t touch that deadly alchemic flame again.
Roy wraps his wool blanket tighter around himself as he waits for the fire to build. It’s the same routine every night in these cold mountains and sometimes he thinks the cold is eating away at his soul, or maybe it’s just making it too numb to feel. It’s all part of the reason he’s here, not that anyone else understands, at least, no one that’s still alive.
His fingers grip the coarse fabric tighter as the kindling catches fire and as it does his body begins to warm. Roy closes his eyes against the growing heat and attempts to block out the thoughts that always come when his mind begins to thaw. It’s the reason he doesn’t light a fire on some nights, opting instead to shiver under his covers until sleep finally claims him. But tonight he knows the cold would be too much and he’d run the risk of never waking up.
It’s a very tempting prospect.
It always is, but it’s one he’ll never do because he doesn’t deserve to slip away that easily, not with all he’s done. He wraps his arms tighter around himself and ducks his chin against his chest, his hair falling forward over his eyes as if to hide his shame. He honestly thought revenge and vengeance would set him free. He honestly thought that by giving up everything he’d finally find peace.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Roy opens his eyes and slowly lifts his head as the wood in the fireplace pops and cracks. The flame is growing higher, licking and wrapping around the larger logs he stacked over the kindling and he swallows against the lump in his throat. He shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts. He doesn’t have the right, but sometimes the loneliness is just so damn suffocating and he knows, he knows, if only he were still here….
He shakes his head and draws back from the fire. The warmth is too enticing. It makes him think of things he doesn’t deserve to think. No one here understands why he’s done what he’s done. No one can fathom the price he’s paid in his soul for his sins, for reaching for things he never had the right to strive for.
But he would know.
He turns away from the fire completely but in his mind he can still see golden eyes shimmering in the flames. He was just a boy, just a child who hated him, but he saw so damn much in his too few years. He’d understand and with a fragile voice Roy whispers into the night.
“Fullmetal….”