Leave A Scar

It was cold, this room of two.

I closed my eyes, and just like that I was in a small hotel, sitting in front of a fire and sitting next to a blind Ed. Our hands nearly interlinked, if I thought to move properly.

It nearly distracted me from the chill of this room, that memory.

Next to me, on the bed moments away, Ed stirred. He rolled over to face me, distress between thin golden brows. But his eyes were closed... a nightmare?

I had the thought to move, to slip from the covers and pad my feet until the organs that made up myself were closer to him. I had the thought, and then the action followed.

I cuddled close, after slipping underneath those sheets. I inched near him, hearing my heart beat in my throat like a hummingbird resting to gather nectar. I cuddled close, my forehead against the very end of his neck, one arm holding onto a metal shoulder. My hand moved, fingertips gently running across the scars rimming his automail, the edge of skin and steel.

I thought about the scales, and how distant they were in weight. One heaving so much more mass than the other.

I needed to balance them out, and I hadn't a clue where to begin.

My opportunity came early in the morning. A final wake-up call, but as I stirred from the empty bed I had moved myself into before sleep, I recalled my last waking thought.

The scales, and how uneven they were.

I rose from sleep as if I hadn't been dreaming in the first place. I immediately sensed him, heard his soft footsteps, one step lighter than the other. I sat up, bleary eyes looking at his back. How his hair already braided and here I was with sleep still running through aching bones.

I yawned, looking over at the clock on the nightstand between our beds. I squinted at the time, trying to decipher the small hands in the fog of my brain. Four in the morning?

I turned to the sound of weight being added to a chair. Ed sat by the door, doing nothing but stare at the space between his feet. He leaned over and to the side, practically dragging himself and retrieving the shoes he'd dropped on the floor.

The boots were pulled over until they occupied that space in front of his feet. He raised one hand to his closed eyes, fingers of his metal hand pressing against the bridge of his nose. He didn't move, didn't even breathe. I knew what he was doing, and with a heavy heart, I looked away. Letting him build up the strength he needed to get through today, the strength to fall back on another failure with a smile.

If only there was some way to make him relax...

I felt heat rushed to my face. Well, it had worked for him...

Memories began stirring, erupting old wounds I tried to keep locked away. I stood up, training every bit of focus I had on Edward. He paid no mind to me, continuing to sit in the chair by the door, slipping one shoe onto his foot.

He still looked tired. His eyes especially; they looked exhausted. My heart sank, as I rose from tangled sheets.

I leaned back a little, hands holding themselves behind me. "Hey, Ed?"

"Hm?" He blinked, a little bit of life coming back to his eyes as he looked at me.

"Um." I felt my blush increase, my hand raising to thread through the back of my hair. "I was... Just wondering..."

I heard his shoe softly make contact with the floor, and glanced over to see his hands hanging over his knees. He was still staring at me, patiently waiting. He looked a little more alert. I felt myself begin to back out of the idea—surely, completely way too embarrassed to ever go about it. But I knew he would just be like this tomorrow morning, and the day after...

My legs moved by themselves, and Ed sat up as I approached him. I got down on my knees, arms coming to fold and support my chin as I rested on his metal leg.

"I want to make you feel better."

Red tinged his face. "Make me—feel better?"

I nodded, still resting on his leg. I felt heat rise to my face as well and I looked away from him. For the first time in a long while, I pulled those memories out.

"There's, um, there was something I used to do for my fiancé. Ex-fiancé." The word hurt; like a spike had been driven through me. "It always seemed to relax him, so..."

I dared to look up, seeing Ed stare at me with a completely red face. I continued on, forcing myself not to physically pull away and back out completely.

"I understand if you say no. It is kind of a strange request―"

"W-what is it?" he asked, though I could see in his embarrassed face that he had the right idea. "Exactly?"

My hand moved on its own, fingers slipping underneath the buckled strap of his belt. Quickly, I separated the pin from the hole, withdrawing the belt. I moved over to the other side of the strap, pulling until the accessory was completely undone.

I looked up, seeing him watch my movements.

"Just say no." I whispered, "And I'll stop."

He didn't say anything, both of us watching my hand move to the buŧŧon of his pants. I undid it with a slow separation of my fingers, again glancing up to watch his face. His bangs covered most of his eyes from my sight, and I had to lean forward a bit, trying to catch his gaze.

"Ed?" I asked, voice incredibly quiet in the silence. "Just shake your head. Blink, if you want me to stop."

I watched his face for a long time. I was surprised he could keep his eyes open for that long.

It was all the consent I needed. The anxiety inside me evaporated, and I let out a breath, rocking back onto my knees.

I did what I did best, and the rest is in between the lines.