Character(s): Roy, Edward, Alphonse ; pairings are one-sided Ed/Winry, Elricest.
Rating: PG for language.
Prompt: Set 2 : 4. Five shades of white.
Word Count: 1352
Summary: A wedding that feels more like a funeral.
Author's Notes: Someone please smack me if I use sin or Christianity again in my 7stages. I am quickly turning into Ano Hideki. (Burn?) In conclusion: my titles suck. Or not.
A lot of the things that led up to that day frightened me. It wasn’t happy at all for me, but people call it that. This wasn’t a union of love, but of forgiveness, in a way. I got my brother’s body back, check, now I had to give Winry all those years that I’d ignored her back. I’m very, very sure that this is demented thought. You are only supposed to marry because two people love each other a lot. I love Winry, don’t forget that.
I have a lot of things that I can’t forget, this is one of them.
She showed me all the fabrics that would go into her dress. All white, but different shades. There was a greyer white varying to a bright white. I laughed to myself, and thought, “Is that the color of purity I have missed? Is this what I get on my wedding day?” I noticed I wasn’t laughing at how funny it was, but how painful it was. Fives shades of white, laid out for me on my day of true sinlessness. Only by telling this girl that I’ll love her forever, unconditionally, I will be free of all these sins. The painful part is that it’s all a con-job. Winry, I swear on my mother’s grave that I never meant to do this. But you wanted it and you deserved it.
Alphonse was the first to congratulate me, telling me that he was so happy for the two of us. He made so many jokes about how my fans will be disappointed that I’m settling down, that I should talk to Mustang about settling down too. It annoyed me, in some odd fashion, that he had a face of longing. What? So he wanted her? He could have taken her, but she is my sin.
It’s cruel, really. Ignorance isn’t a sin, yet here Winry is, sitting on my list.
I heard his crying at night, muffled but clear, wailing for a reason. I inched closer and closer every night to throwing his door open and telling him the truth. I can’t win. I can’t fucking win. I want to make everyone happy.
Al, oh God, you’re not a fuck-up. I won’t call you that.
Flowers, lots of them. So many that they could make a field. White daisies, lilies, roses, and carnations. People rushed about with bouquets and vases full of them. I was in a tuxedo, that though slightly too big for me, was too tight. Panic was setting in, but it was more like insanity. I didn’t feel my heart racing or anything like that. I felt like everything was slowing down and becoming softer. I just got up and left the chapel, that though I had no good relations with any God, was there because she said it was better than a judge’s office. I said she could have it.
Down the steps, and there’s Mustang. General Brigadier Roy Mustang, the man who helped me so much in those years. Had I repaid him? No. Just look away, keep walking, keep running.
“Where are you going, Fullmetal? Aren’t you getting married?” He smirked, but he’s really smiling. I almost regreted inviting him to this goddamn show (that’s what this is) because then I have to remember I owe him, too. What am I supposed to do for him? He has all the things he’s ever wanted.
I pulled his arm and ran.
There were white petals floating around in the park, but they looked gray, always gray.
Roy had looked worried. He was watching a man go insane and he didn’t know what to ask, I’m sure of it. Though he nor I liked admitting it, he did care about me. Did he want to care about me then? A bomb waiting to explode. Oh hell, everything is fucked.
“Mustang, could you burn me right now?” I croaked, desperate. He laughed, and asked me if I had cold feet. Cold feet? This isn’t hesitation or doubt, dammit.
Can I explain it when I’m dead? Oh well, I gave it to him.
He was so quiet. He raised his head and told me only this: “Your logic is fucked up, Fullmetal.”
“Thanks for telling me, why don’t you go tell the girl in the white dress? Why don’t you tell her that I can’t make all her dreams come true because I was lying for her sake,” I said, feeling sick of myself. Why wouldn’t he fucking burn me up?
Al, oh shit. He looked so hollow but happy. He ran up to me, flushed and smiling.
“You’re getting married in half an hour, we need to get back to the chapel,” Al said, like he was trying to calm me. I guess he figured I needed direction.
“I don’t want to get married,” I told him. Al stared at me, not looking so hollow anymore.
It was in those moments that I understood more about my brother than I should have.
I ask myself a question: are we ever really happy? Then I asked myself another: is Al happy? It’s like balancing a chemical equation, or any other equation. There are three people: in one situation, only one person will be happy, in another two will be happy. Despite what people think, I ‘m not stupid and I don’t believe in fucking up what you learned before.
“I’m...I’m not getting married, so let’s get the hell out of here. Let’s catch a train somewhere fast, what do you say?”
I was shaking a little, scared and nauseous from thinking of the consequences. Al nodded, tears dripping from his face.
“I guess that I’m the one who’s going to have to tell Miss Rockbell that she isn’t getting married?” asked Mustang. He appeared amused, maybe relieved.
“Yeah...tell her that I...” I wondered what you tell a girl who was two seconds from giving you everything. “...that I’m gone. Tell her that I love her and I hope she has a wonderful life.”
Those words surprised me. Telling someone to have a nice life is like considering them dead. I’d never in my life wanted someone dead.
I walked with my hand in my brother’s, never to return.
A girl with pale golden hair that goes in twists and curves, a dress that encompasses her with beautiful white, and flowers that smell of spring in her hand, sits in a chair. She is waiting for what will be the most joyous moment she will have in her life. She will walk down that aisle, happy tears falling down her face, a bouquet in her hands, and a veil covering her countenance. After that, there will be the most perfect kiss of her life from the one person she truly loves. It will make her heart flutter, her knees buckle, tears pouring like rain from her eyes. He will hold her hand and take her down the aisle where the rest of their life awaits them, a happy dream that never ends, even after death.
A man walks into the room escorted by Elicia, the maid of honor. He gives her news that breaks every dream she ever had. She screams her grievances, tearing flowers out of a bouquet. Her hair falls from the pins and clips, sticking to her tears. Like rain, like rain, these things will go away. Elicia strokes her shoulder while whispering that it’s okay.
What part of this is okay? yells Winry’s thoughts.
People came in, military, friends, family, saying that they were sorry for her loss, wishing her to feel better. Shaking and crying, this girl is in a decay.
Winry falls asleep in a chair, singing a requiem. It’s a children’s song that Edward had taught her. She held it dear for so many years, singing it when she felt lonely or in pain to remind her that Edward, when he came back to her, would make everything better.
She sleeps: dreams that he holds her hand and she is blind to everything.
x-posted at 7stages, fm_alchemist, and elricest