Live fast, die young / / bad girls do it well (hola_meg_a_cola) wrote in fm_alchemist,
Live fast, die young / / bad girls do it well
hola_meg_a_cola
fm_alchemist

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Genetics

Title:Genetics
Rating: PG.
Genre: Angst (boo!)
Setting: I’d say Post- chapter 44 in the manga to be safe.
Warning: Nothing too bad. Just the use of “bastard” a couple of times.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to our favorite dairy cow.
Author’s Notes: Wrote this to UVERworld’s “D-Technolife”. Mnm, yes; the second “Bleach” opening. My first Ed story. And it’s angst! How depressing on my part. So, uh… be nice to my craptastic story.
Feedback: It’s much appreciated.

Genetics had not been kind to him, in his opinion.

Edward loathed the way he looked. It wasn’t as if he thought himself ugly; to be perfectly honest, he thought he wasn’t a bad looking guy. But every time he glanced at his reflection, he was starting to look more and more like him.

Yes, him. The bastard. If there was one person Ed hated more than his superior officer Colonel Roy Mustang, it was his father, Hoenheim Elric. The very thought of the man boiled his blood. Even if he had an imperative part in making him, it didn’t make him a father. Ed had few memories of his father ever living with them, and he never was ‘a part of the family’. Hoenheim would always be in his study, working. And even then, his beloved mother, Trisha, stuck by him! He never understood her devotion and always figured it must be some flaw with women.

When Edward reached puberty, things only became worse for him. The townsfolk of Risembool would often remark about how he looked ‘just like his father… only shorter’. True, he was more livid about the short remark, but how dare they compare him with that two timing bastard!

But what was he to do? His long, golden hair was a trademark of his father’s (excluding his facial hair). As puberty progressed, his shoulders and back began to widen into that of a man’s while his voice deepened. His jawbone was becoming increasingly broad and though it was difficult to tell, he was slowly but surely growing taller. Edward hadn’t really noticed until he met ‘the bastard’ in his home town and had commented how much Ed was taking after him. They even styled their hair the same (to which Edward promptly braided his own).

He refused to be like that bastard.

In Central one day, Edward and his younger brother, Alphonse, were in the lobby of a hotel, waiting for the desk clerk’s attention. Noticing a pair of thin, gold leaf glasses, Ed tried them on, pushing them up his nose. Using Al’s gleaming, metal chest, he looked back at his reflection in horror; it was as if the bastard were looking back at him.

Ripping the glasses from his face, Edward stomped away. Even though he looked like his father (or was beginning to), it didn’t mean he had to like or accept it.
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