Categories > Anime/Manga > Full Metal Alchemist
Roy's POV
He'd fallen asleep with his back to my chest and his head leant back on my shoulder.
I looked up from the book I'd been reading to take in the beautiful sight. The first thing I noticed was his expression, one of complete relaxation- rarely, if ever, seen on his visage. I've witnessed Ed's smile a hundred times, yet it's always forced, or only a brief moment of happiness -usually brought on by his brother- before stress and guilt remind him of their presence and begin eating him alive again. Sleep, it seemed, was the only true escape he had. When it wasn't being infested by crippling nightmares.
I trailed my eyes over every curve if his face; temple, protrusion of his cheekbones, slope of the nose, the way his lips rounded down to his chin. Nothing out of place, disproportionate. Perfection at its finest.
And let's not forget, that glorious hair of his, loose from its typical braid, framing his face and cascading down around his mismatched shoulders. I brushed a strand away from his mouth to behind his ear where the rest of it was. Reveling in the luxuriously soft feel, I pressed my nose against the golden mass and inhaled. Gate... It smelled like concentrated Ed (a delicious smell, I'll have you know), with just a hint of vanilla. I wondered idly if he knew vanilla was my favorite scent, aside from his own.
A lot of people, sometimes even me - albeit usually with a darn good reason - complain about Edward, whether it be his rudeness, destructive tendencies or overactive personality. However, I wouldn't want him to change, because whatever he's doing is working wonders on me. I love everything about him, including the bad things. Although, to be honest, those are what make him interesting to be around.
Especially that personality of his. I don't think he realises that he doesn't have to kick a door down to make an entrance. He walks with an air of purpose that transforms his lopsided gait into a swagger that demands attention, and he's been doing it since he was twelve. I was attached to him even then, not that I ever would admit it. Not necessarily sexual, either. He gained my respect at so young, which most adults don't have and can't get. Despite the constant conflict between us, I think I gained his respect as well.
Somehow over the years, without either of us being aware, that yelling turned into talking. Talking led to loving, and more he curls up in my lap, reading my book with me until he falls asleep.
He'd fallen asleep with his back to my chest and his head leant back on my shoulder.
I looked up from the book I'd been reading to take in the beautiful sight. The first thing I noticed was his expression, one of complete relaxation- rarely, if ever, seen on his visage. I've witnessed Ed's smile a hundred times, yet it's always forced, or only a brief moment of happiness -usually brought on by his brother- before stress and guilt remind him of their presence and begin eating him alive again. Sleep, it seemed, was the only true escape he had. When it wasn't being infested by crippling nightmares.
I trailed my eyes over every curve if his face; temple, protrusion of his cheekbones, slope of the nose, the way his lips rounded down to his chin. Nothing out of place, disproportionate. Perfection at its finest.
And let's not forget, that glorious hair of his, loose from its typical braid, framing his face and cascading down around his mismatched shoulders. I brushed a strand away from his mouth to behind his ear where the rest of it was. Reveling in the luxuriously soft feel, I pressed my nose against the golden mass and inhaled. Gate... It smelled like concentrated Ed (a delicious smell, I'll have you know), with just a hint of vanilla. I wondered idly if he knew vanilla was my favorite scent, aside from his own.
A lot of people, sometimes even me - albeit usually with a darn good reason - complain about Edward, whether it be his rudeness, destructive tendencies or overactive personality. However, I wouldn't want him to change, because whatever he's doing is working wonders on me. I love everything about him, including the bad things. Although, to be honest, those are what make him interesting to be around.
Especially that personality of his. I don't think he realises that he doesn't have to kick a door down to make an entrance. He walks with an air of purpose that transforms his lopsided gait into a swagger that demands attention, and he's been doing it since he was twelve. I was attached to him even then, not that I ever would admit it. Not necessarily sexual, either. He gained my respect at so young, which most adults don't have and can't get. Despite the constant conflict between us, I think I gained his respect as well.
Somehow over the years, without either of us being aware, that yelling turned into talking. Talking led to loving, and more he curls up in my lap, reading my book with me until he falls asleep.
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