Fic: 1: Dreams
Disclaimer: Arakawa owns all.
Summary: Connection: Dreams. That's what kept them going. By imagining his face in her eyes, she could live. By promising her that he would return, he would try. Separated for four years, could they come together again, even if worlds come between them? Post CoS. EdxWinry
Warnings: Angst, romance, lime-type of scene, 1st person p.o.v.
A/N: Okay, I need some input. I'm stuck in a rut because of writer's block and because Ed's 1st anime character is a lot more complicated than manga!Ed. I hope you all enjoy!
It was a quiet night. The light breeze blew through my open widow, touching my warm skin, cooling it as it went into my room. It made me shiver. That confused me. How could the soft wind get through my senses, making me get goose-bumps? Instantly, I wrapped myself with my blanket like a cocoon to keep the cold out. Was it always supposed to be like this? Did the air in September have to be chilly?
This caused my heart to accelerate. Just great. I knew what was coming now. The reason why I was always so tired in the morning and at midday; the terrible feeling that I would receive when I would see the unwanted images that felt so right to me. The only purpose I cried at night vigorously, leaving my eyes red and irritated when the sun would hit my face, signaling me that it was time to wake up, was coming and was somehow neutral about the debate of its arrival.
Although it has been 4 years since I've seen them, I still couldn't help but dream about them. Or him at least. I couldn't seem to forget them, either. It's too inevitable and irresistible. The fantasies, they are so inviting, so hypnotic, and so strange. It's as if they were in my subconscious just to mock me.
I felt my eyelids flutter open and hot tears well up in my eyes; they ran down my face with a hurried pace. I looked around my dark bedroom, trying extra hard to notice if anything was out of place. If I had to check anything, it would be if he was in my room, at this very moment, just a few inches away from me. I craned my head to my left side and directed my attention to the open window I had forgotten to close due to my haste of wanting to go to sleep. I was too tired and too lazy to form some energy to close my window. That's what I get for going to sleep late. And this is what I get for not closing my window!
Even through the black, moonless night, I could detect his silhouette form sitting on my chair, his eyes looking straight into mine. How disappointing. Last time he visited me, he was only five centimeters away from my face; now his distance was probably four or five feet from me.
I unwrapped the upper part of my body so that I could sit up, trying to keep my eyes on him, desperately trying not to lose my focus I had on him. He stood up, pushing the chair in back of him, removing it from my sight. I blinked nervously. I felt stupid as more tears cascaded like a waterfall down my flushed cheeks in front of him. Perplexed as I was I did not expect to feel what I was about to feel at this moment.
I thought he would furrow his eyebrows and demand to know why I was crying. He couldn't handle anyone when they cried, especially me. Instead, he showed a small, but sincere smile, making me show a shy grin myself. He would sometimes do this when he would unexpectedly come to see me at night. But this also felt different. He was way out of my reach, smirking with great pleasure (almost as if he was glad to see me), he didn't comment on why I was crying all of a sudden, and he let me cry, not trying to get me to stop. This was not like him. What was wrong here? Who is this man and what has he done to the Edward I know, care for, and…
Could I have finished that thought only if he had not stepped forward, sat on my bed, and began to draw closer to me. I surprisingly responded and came closer to him, removing my bed sheet from my legs and crawling to where he was. My calm breaths began to speed up. I was too close to him, too close to his face, his eyes, his lips. They were so full and desirable, so luscious and yummy. I couldn't control myself and I guess it might have been impossible for him to keep a straight face of his own considering how close we were.
Without hesitation, I kneeled next to him and grabbed his shirt, closing the gap between our lips. He did not argue or show resistance. He kissed me back, a reaction I did not anticipate of him either. I wrapped my arms around his neck, continuing to kiss him wildly. I felt his left arm snake around my waist, and his cold, automail hand run down my back, sending a pool of shock waves through my entire body. I kissed him harder, almost biting his lips, unable to hold back my feelings I had kept secret for eleven years. My breathing turned into quick pants as he hugged me even closer to him, laying me down on the soft mattress. He began to kiss me hungrily, too, drying my fresh tears with his beautiful mouth. He left kisses on my tomato red cheeks, took my lips every few seconds, ran through my jaw line, and nibbled on my neck.
His hands were like magic, caressing my arms, my torso, and my face, and tangling them in my long, sweaty hair. I did the same to him. My fingers undid his golden plait, playing with his perfect mane. They also ran down his throat and shoulders, letting me notice that he had a shirt on. Well, I would just have to help him get rid of it. My hands tugged on the top button of his red shirt. How nervous I was that I couldn't concentrate enough to keep my fingers from shaking and how distracted I was that I couldn't remember how to unbutton a shirt, I couldn't tell. But I finally got it. His shirt came off easily, revealing his flawlessly sculpted muscles and chest. We broke away from our untamed kissing for a few seconds, a chance to let me appreciate his gorgeous body. My hands strayed to his chest again, and he caught my lips lovingly. I had not caught enough air during the two second break; the sight of his upper body left me even more breathless. Yet I didn't care if I suffocated at this moment. I was with him, something that I've wanted for a more than a decade, something I had dreamed of for eleven years. However, this stood out from all the other desires that I have had. I didn't think twice about this. I liked this. I enjoyed it. Should I have cared for the outcome if it were someone else that was here on my bed, but I didn't really pay attention to the result if Edward was here.
We sat up again, touching one another's hot skin and hearing each other's heartbeat break into a frenzy as Edward lied down on the bed, letting me be on top of him. He grabbed fistfuls of my locks, pulling on them lightly causing me to gasp. His hands descended to my shoulders where my night gown's straps rested. He pulled them down my arms, almost removing my pajamas, leaving them midway, letting them hang on to my elbows. How playful he was, my little Ed. He wanted me to finish the job for him. But neither of us had to complete the "assignment". My silky night gown began to slide down on its own. I felt him kiss my shoulder blades with care as I got to kiss his neck. Then, I encountered his shoulder blades. How strong and muscular they appeared to be yet so delicate and sensitive. His right one in particular. Although his torso was perfect in most ways, it was shadowed by many battle scars scattered around. Then, there was his automail shoulder. Where the mechanical limb begins, the shoulder plate is connected to his nerves so he could be able to move his arm; same thing with his left leg. With wariness, I would kiss that shoulder so it wouldn't hurt.
But as I prepared myself to capture his lips once again, I felt something that didn't belong. Something cold, the wind perhaps? The cool breeze that seemed to blow in distracted me for a mere second. And in that mere second, three things happened. First, I couldn't feel Edward's warm and soft body anymore; it was icy, tough, and hard. Second, I couldn't see that certain fire that was always in his eyes; that flame was put out. And third, my head felt heavy, making me retreat to my pillow so I could rest my aching skull. How did this happen? How did my beautiful fantasy diminish and shatter into little tiny pieces? How did everything crash down? I screamed carelessly, indifferent if I woke my grandmother or not. The sudden pain in my head was killing me and my chest felt too hot even though the brisk air was pounding on it roughly with its wintry contents. The way my dream fell apart was probably the most horrifying sight I had ever laid my eyes on. Both my head and chest throbbed harshly, making me think that I was actually going to die. I blinked rapidly, trying to rid my eyes of the unnecessary perspiration that descended down my all too heated cheeks. Through my flashing eyelids, I saw Edward get up from my bed, retrieve and put on his shirt, give me a kiss on my sweaty forehead with his frosty lips, and walk out–or better yet jump out–of my room through the window. As my eyelids fell to close my eyes shut, my head began to lose the throbbing pain, although it did not calm my chest pain down.
With vulnerability, I opened my eyes carefully as if there was a huge, scary monster in front of me, ready to attack when it saw that I was weak enough. What my mind had shown was not real. The scenes that had just occurred had not really happened. They were projected in my brain to be a pain-reliever, but also worsen the pain. How cruel my own mentality was with me. Oh, I despise the stupid irony! I wish I could destroy it and bury it, let it rot in the ground, and let the decomposing bacteria finish it off. Am I going mad, though? Personifying a literal element while being upset? I must be losing my mind, thinking of something so unessential to how I feel right now. Or could it be that I need it? Could I need the mockery? While in love with someone who's not even here? I must need everything since everything is lost. Spirit, heart, soul, body, mind…but what about hope? Could that be lost? No, could I lose it? Would that be possible to lose something that I don't really have? How strange I am to ask this.
I looked around and found everything was in its place, even the chair that Edward had sat on. My sheets covered my entire body like I had placed them when I felt the cool air enter my room. The only difference was that my pillow was soggy and damp, my cheeks were covered with tears, and my forehead was full of perspiration. I knew it. Another mockery by my own subconscious. Even though I know that I'm strong and I would get through this, I felt that I wasn't strong enough and that I couldn't get through this. Not right now at least. So I cried my heart out, letting all my tears run my eyes dry of their never ending ocean and my pain escape me for the night.
"Oh God, no. This wasn't real. It was just a dream. A stupid, delicious, mocking dream. I can't do this. I can't keep living like this every night. My eyes are tired of crying and exhausted of seeing the similar scenery. Can't I get rid of them? I don't want this anymore. I can't handle it." My blubbering was a strange ringing sound, even to my own ears. No wonder Edward doesn't like to be around tear-shedding people; it's annoying! I don't know if I could go on like this for another night. For if I dream like this again, I may stay in the dream and never feel the need to wake up. In the morning, I would grow tired and travel to the tree that Edward, Alphonse and I used to play on to stare out into the distance to study my recent, disturbing dream.