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Descent	By : ZaKai Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 14665 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Descent

Chapter Seven

Apples

Ed woke to the sound of pans clanging and something
frying.� From the smell he thought it
might be potatoes.� Normally he�d be
famished this time of the morning, but now he only felt a nauseating feeling in
his stomach.

He didn�t want to eat; didn�t feel like it�

More clanging then, �aaahh!�
Dammit!� Ouch!� Mother fucking piece of shit!�

Ed raised an eyebrow; he�d have to remember that the next
time the colonel got on his case about swearing.

The colonel�

The young alchemist could feel his cheeks heating in
embarrassment as he thought about what had happened during the night.� He could still feel Mustang�s strong hold on
his body; could still feel the breath from the man as he spoke softly to
him.� His heart began beating faster just
from the memory.

But then�he had been crying, crying from the nightmare,
crying for Al�

How embarrassing�

Ed covered his eyes as if to block out the memory.� The colonel must think he was such a
child.� He was sure he�d never live it down,
even if Mustang had been�tender�with him, even if the man had held him and
rocked him�

Ed�s blush deepened.

The sound of scraping, then the sound of plates being set
down, sounded from the kitchen, then he heard Mustang come up behind him.� Ed was lying with his face toward the back of
the couch, but that wouldn�t hide the fact that he was awake; lying there, the
way he was, with his hands pressed flat against his eyes.� He just hoped the dark haired man wouldn�t
notice how red his face and neck must be.

There was a moment of silence, then, �Time to get up
Fullmetal.�

�No.� Go away,� Ed
said automatically, wishing his face would cool down.� He didn�t want to face the colonel, didn�t
want to face the inevitable questions that would come.

There was a sound of exasperation from behind him, then,
�Breakfast is ready.�

�I�m not hungry,� he mumbled.

�You�re not hungry�?� Mustang asked doubtfully.� �You didn�t eat last night either��

Ed shifted uncomfortably at the sound of concern in
Mustang�s voice. �It felt strange
thinking that his commanding officer was concerned about him.� He didn�t dare hope that the man could
possibly care for him.

�You know� sometimes people just aren�t hungry�� Ed growled
in response.�

�Not you,� In his mind, Ed could see Mustang shaking his
head.

Ed sighed.� The
colonel was right�.but he just didn�t want
to eat.� He wasn�t hungry.

�With your metabolism, I�m afraid you�d die in a couple of
days if you didn�t eat,� Mustang said with a slightly amused tone.

�I wish I would�� The
words came out before he could stop them and almost instantly he felt the dark
eyed man grab his arm and wrench him around to face him.� The force of Mustang pulling him around drew
his hand away from one of his eyes; Ed�s other hand dropping down to steady his
position on the couch.� His gaze fixed on
Mustang�s black eyes and the intensity in them scared Ed more than he would
admit.

�Don�t you say that!� the older man hissed.�

Ed�s eyebrows scrunched together as tears threatened to come
again. �

�Why?� Ed whispered, voice quivering.� �Why do you care if I live or die?��

He watched as the other man�s eyes twitched slightly at the
question.� Dark eyebrows knit together
and the black orbs moved slightly as they studied Ed�s face.� Then suddenly Roy looked away and said, in a forced light
tone, �Well it wouldn�t do to have one of my subordinates die, especially when
it isn�t in battle.� It looks bad on my
evaluation report.�

Ed felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over him.� Suddenly rage, pain, and disappointment all
mixed together inside him.� He pushed
against Mustang as hard as he could and jumped to his feet.� The room swam as tears flooded his
vision.�

I hate you!� I hate you... you... you...fucking bastard! �Ed thought savagely.�

It wasn�t as if he�d had any sort of � anything� with the
other man, but he wanted it so much.� He�d wanted Mustang to say, �I don�t want you
to die because I care about you.�� But, no��
That bastard was just thinking
about his next promotion!�

He ran, not knowing exactly where he was going.� He only knew he had to get away from the
other man, had to get away before he couldn�t hold back the tears.� When he saw a door, he ran toward it, fumbled
with the doorknob before he could get it open, then flung himself inside,
slamming the door behind him.�

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

�Roy
watched as the short alchemist ran around the corner and into the bathroom,
then sat heavily on the floor.� Sighing,
he ran a hand through his hair then winced.�
He had forgotten about the burn from cooking breakfast�

Why did I say that...?
he asked himself.

Of course the question was an unnecessary one, and he knew
it.� He�d said it because he�d gotten
scared� scared of what he had seen in Ed�s eyes.� He rubbed his face with his hand, the one
that wasn�t burnt.�

A sound caught his attention and he looked up toward the
bathroom.� The sound was that of
something breaking� The mirror, he guessed.�
There was a moment of silence, then the sound of crying; faint at first,
but quickly becoming sobs.

Ed wasn�t one to just start crying.� He had always been strong, but Roy had seen, or heard,
the young alchemist cry more since he picked him up off the street than the
whole time he�d known him.� It was
confusing, in a way, to see the blond so emotional and distraught.

The whole thing just made him feel terrible; terrible for
being the one to start the flow of tears again� and terrible for missing his
chance.� It had been there, in his eyes�he
had wanted Roy
to say something to make him feel wanted; cared for.�

And wasn�t that just the chance of a lifetime?� Didn�t he want to get closer to Ed?� Of course he did� but at that moment� at that
moment he�d gotten scared.� What if he�d
misread the boy?� What if Ed found out
the reason, the real reason, why Roy was being so
kind?� What if he was disgusted?� What if he told someone?� Relationships between commanding officers and
their subordinates were prohibited.� What
would happen to his career?� The military
didn�t exactly look kindly on soldiers whose sexual preference were men�

Frustrated and angry with himself, Roy got up and headed for the kitchen.� He passed the potatoes he�d cooked.� He wasn�t too bad of a cook, but he didn�t do
it very often. Since Roy
usually ate at the cafeteria or ordered take out, his supply of actual food was
rather sparse.� He had potatoes, tea,
coffee, a few cans of soup and various containers containing leftovers from
previous meals�

And liquor.

He opened a cupboard and let his eyes wander over the assortment
of bottles that could have been labeled a mini liquor store.� He really
needed a drink; needed something to dull the ache inside of him.� He reached out his hand...

�Roy, the answer to life�s problems won�t be
found at the bottom of a bottle.�

He let his hand drop.

Maes...

Roy
squeezed his eyes shut.� How long ago had
that been...?� Quite a few years�� After he had gotten back from the front lines
in Ishbal, after he had killed so many people��
Back then he�d spent most of his time either drinking, wishing he was
dead or studying human transmutation.�

Usually all three at the same time.

But Maes Hughes, and Roy�s
new ambition to become Fuhrer, had helped him through it.� He�d gotten past the insane desire to find a
way to bring the dead back, and it was only after flashbacks or nightmares that
he thought of suicide.� Even the
constant, desperate, heavy drinking had slowed.

Slowed�

But not stopped.

Not completely.

Not a day went by that he didn�t think about drowning
himself in alcohol; to giving into the urge to feel numb to the daily problems
of life.� He wanted to make sure that
nothing like Ishbal ever happened again, but to do that he needed to be in
charge, and to do that� to become Fuhrer� sometimes he had to do things he
found particularly despicable.

He�d often been called a �bootlicker� by other soldiers and
been despised in their eyes, but he tried to bear it the best he could, since
even he despised himself for it.� Usually he survived by overworking himself
until he collapsed.� It kept his job
performance high.

And it kept him from drinking too much.� Not that he had a problem anymore� just once
in a while he would drink a little more than what he should� but it wasn�t
often�

Normally he did just fine� really, he did� he was able to
just have one glass without giving into the desire to have more.

Roy
raised his head.� The sobbing from the
other room had quieted.� He sighed and
shook his head, not knowing what to do. Dark eyes moved over the bottles one
more time, hoping they really might have the answer.

�Maybe just one drink...� he
thought.� He could just have one drink�

Really�

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

Winry stared at the mess surrounding Al�s bed.� Stacks of alchemy books dotted the floor at
intervals.� A small bucket of black paint
sat on the floor, half empty, and a thin paintbrush was sticking out of the
thick liquid.� Papers were scattered
around, different arrays painted on each of them.� Two buckets of wash water, now murky, sat
quietly off to the side.� But strangest
of all were the two small piles of non-descript dolls.� One pile contained normal enough looking
dolls, but the other held dolls that were mutilated or destroyed in some
way.��

She looked at the sleeping teenager on the bed.� Even in his sleep he looked tired.� An arm dotted with flecks of black paint lay
on the covers.� When her eyes rested on
his hand she gasped involuntarily.�

Faint ghosts of small transmutation circles could be seen on
his palms, as if he had drawn them there, then washed them away, then drawn
something different.�

She looked from Al to the small pile of mangled dolls
feeling concern and fear well up within her.

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

Ed sat on the floor, back to the bathtub staring at the
shards from the mirror.� He supposed it
was a stupid, foolish thing to do; taking his anger out on the glass�even
dumber to do it with his real hand.��

Blood dripped from the cuts and gashes in his knuckles.� In the beginning, the red liquid had made
small splatter patterns on the floor, but now each drop just added to a rapidly
growing puddle in front of him.�

He had taken to letting some of the drops hit the gray sweat
pants and the white tee-shirt.� Maybe
Mustang would be more concerned about him if he was covered in blood�� His lips pulled down into a deep frown, then
again maybe not.

He�ll probably just
get mad... �Ed thought.� He supposed that wasn�t a bad thing� It would
help him stay mad at the other man; help him not to think about how desperately
he wanted the colonel to put his arms around him again.

I don�t deserve it...
don�t deserve someone caring about me... not after what I did to Al... At
the thought of his brother, tears welled up in his eyes again.� How could he have done such a thing?� Was Al even okay?� He didn�t know, and couldn�t bring himself to
place the phone call to find out.�

What if he was dead?�
What if Ed had killed him?� Killed
him just like��

Ed shook his head violently and squeezed his injured
hand.� The physical pain helped him to
forget the mental anguish of what he had done, and he watched as fresh blood
flowed from his wounds.�

He looked over at some of the larger pieces of the mirror;
sharp edges gleamed wickedly in the artificial light.� His gaze moved to his arm and wrist at the
soft blue lines that were his veins.�

Maybe I could...�

But he knew he couldn�t.�
He had tried to end his life before, right after he�d left Rizembool,
but he had been too scared.

Too cowardly.�

He had hoped that if he wandered Central long enough, Scar
would find him and do the work for him.�
But that�that� bastard�had
found him instead.� He should just
leave.� After all, he was just going to
resign from the military anyway.� The colonel
was just wasting his time.

But�if he retired from the military Scar would have no
reason to go after him.

Ed hung his head, letting his blond hair fall around his
face and squeezed his eyes shut letting a single tear trickle down his face.

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

Roy
poured himself another glass of applejack(1).�
He�d just have one more.� This was
only his fourth glass, and he could handle quite a bit more than that.� He looked at the more than half empty bottle
and frowned.� It had been full when he�d
pulled it out of the cupboard��

His eyes went back to the glass.� It did seem a bit more�full�than it was
supposed to be�� Maybe he�d been pouring
himself too much�?

In any case, he was feeling better than he had been.� Even his hand didn�t hurt as much.� He lifted the injured hand up to get a better
look.� Well� maybe he should put
something on it� but he�d do that later.�

Dropping the hand, Roy
used his other one to pick up the glass.�
He drained half the liquid before setting it back down, then moved his
gaze in the bathroom�s general direction. �Ed had been in there for a long time.� The sounds of crying had ceased and now no
sound at all came from the restroom.

The colonel�s brow crinkled.�
It was a little�too�quiet in there.�
Maybe he should go check on him�

Besides that, Fullmetal just happened to be occupying the
only bathroom, and after drinking over half a bottle of applejack he had to point the pink pistol at the porcelain
firing range, and soon.�

Roy stood up, a bit unsteadily at first as the world
seemed to shift.� When the room stopped tilting
he moved to go to the bathroom when he remembered the glass of alcohol.� Without a second thought he picked it up and
drank the rest.� Can�t have good liquor
go to waste�

Again he was
about to go, but thought he should put the bottle away.� After all, he thought as he gently placed the
bottle back among its companions, couldn�t have Ed seeing how much he had drunk�not
like he really cared�really�it wasn�t as if he really had a problem anymore
anyway.� He�d just felt like drinking a
bit more than usual this time�that�s all�

When Roy finally made it to
the bathroom, he tried the knob only to find it locked.� He let his head rest against the door as he
stared down at the antique looking knob.�

What to do what to do what to do�

Finally he lifted
his head up, raised a fist and knocked.�

No answer.

He knocked again,
this time with a firm, �Fullmetal!�

Again, no answer.

Roy was becoming more than a little concerned. �He tried again and finally got an answer.

�Go screw
yourself, you bastard!� was shouted loudly from the other side of the door.

Concern changed rapidly
to irritation.�

He was going to
get into the bathroom one way or another�

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

Ed�s body jumped
when the door to the bathroom burst in and became little splinters, some of
them turning into ashes from the flames before they even touched the
floor.� Shock at what had just happened
kept his body ridged as a man dressed in baggy dark gray sweats and a white
tee-shirt, with one gloved hand raised, stepped through the door way.

The first thing
that Ed�s brain processed was the fact that he and the colonel were dressed
almost in exactly the same clothes.� He
hadn�t really noticed what Mustang had been wearing when he had run off.� He felt two conflicting feelings over this,
the first being that of irritation.�
Didn�t the stupid old man have anything else to wear?� The second, more underlying, feeling was that
of confused attraction�

The dark haired
man dropped his hand and walked toward him, a dark menacing look in his eyes.� Ed sat still, refusing; he hated to think
unable, to move.� When the colonel was
almost in front of him, the man turned his back to him and walked toward the
toilet.

Ed blinked.

When the sound of
the other man relieving himself began, the blond teenager blinked again then
felt a crazy urge to laugh well up inside of him.� It was just so fucking strange; something he hadn�t expected.� Finally he couldn�t hold it back and laughter
bubbled out of him.� He closed his eyes,
the sound of the insane laughter filling his ears; as if it were from someone
other than him.

When he finally
was able to begin pulling himself together Mustang was applying some sort of
cream on his hand and looking at him warily.�
Ed�s eyes fixed on the cream and he thought, Maybe he really will screw himself. �I wonder if he�ll do that right in front of me too!�

That thought made
him start laughing again.� He wanted to
stop, his side hurt and tears were streaming down his face, but he
couldn�t.�

I�ve snapped, Ed thought as he continued to laugh
hysterically.� I�ve totally lost my fucking mind.�
They�re going to put me in one of
those places where there are padded walls and they put you in one of those
white coats so your arms are tied down, and they�ll spoon feed me...
applesauce... he thought as his nose caught the sent of apples.

�Fullmetal!�� The sound seemed far away through the
uncontrollable laughter.

� Suddenly the laughter was cut off when he
felt a stinging sensation in his cheek.�
For a moment he was too stunned to think of what could have happened, but
then his brain registered the sensation as a slap and his eyes turned to look
at the man crouched in front of him.

Ed stared at
Mustang�s unreadable face for almost a full minute as his breathing slowed, then
he said, almost meekly, the only thing he could think of.

�You smell like apples��

---

1) A strong alcoholic beverage produced from apples.� It is slightly sweet, and tastes, and usually smells, of apples.� Commercially produced applejack may be
composed of apple brandy diluted with grain spirits, but what Mustang is
drinking is pure applejack.�

�
- 6
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Descent