InsaneJournal

FMA fic. Elricest. "Evanescence"
Evanescence
by Lily
PG-13 (for incest themes)
Al/Ed; Elricest
550 words
Warnings: angst, death
Summary: But he’s still breathing, and that’s enough.


His eyes are closed, his fingers fisted in the blanket. Five fingers. His automail eventually wore out -- without Winry to maintain it -- and he swore he’d never wear another prosthetic. His eyes are closed, but every so often his lids flicker, and that’s enough. The blanket is a lightweight green one, because anything heavier and he breaks out into a fevered sweat while he sleeps. His eyes are closed, and rarely does he open them anymore. But he’s still breathing, and that’s enough.

I touch the cold skin of his cheek, smoothing out the wrinkles. He doesn’t even stir. I feather my lips on his, but he doesn’t wake, and I didn’t expect him to. He’s weary, and I don’t mind letting him rest, but I hardly leave his bedside anymore. I wind several strands of silver hair around my finger, and whisper in his ear.

“Someday we’ll see Paris, brother.” And then America, I think. Ed always wanted to travel to America. But I know he’ll never see them. His eyes are closed, but were he to open them, it wouldn’t make any difference. The golden of his eyes has faded, hidden behind a white film. I clasp his fingers in mine.

“I miss you, brother,” I say. I know he’s lying right next to me, but he sleeps so often now; not only that, but his agile mind has suffered as well. There are no more fierce debates followed by delicious kisses. There is no more sparring -- there hasn’t been for years -- for Brother has no left leg anymore.

It’s a bittersweet thing, to watch age devour the one you love. To watch it eat away at his brain, swallow up his once-boundless energy, colour his skin a pale paste. To watch his blond hair turn grey. It’s a bittersweet thing to look in the mirror and see your brother’s face, but with fewer wrinkles and hair still flushed with youth. To know that you can still solve scientific problems, but he’s lucky if he remembers you. To remember the feel of his body pressed against yours, the sound of his voice in your ear. But his voice cracks with age now, when he speaks.

His breath rattles in his lungs, and I squeeze his hand. It’s coming, I know. And while I haven’t thought of alchemy for years, I wish I had an array to decimate the effects of aging; to return the blush of youth to a body failing, but still beautiful. I’d give up my heart to give him back his brilliant mind.

And when his eyes flutter open, and weakly he grips my hand, I lean in close.

“I love you, Ed,” I say, and his chapped lips form a smile, his head turning towards the sound of my voice.

“I love you more, Alphonse,” he says, and in that moment his mind is crystal clear. Then his eyes drop closed and he exhales. I wait, and wait for him to take another breath. I wait a minute; two; five. I wait an hour.

But the Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric, my brother -- my lover -- is gone. And I lay my head on his chest, and weep. And close my eyes, and I see Ed smiling and waving, with two arms, and two legs.

end.