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Description
Art and Drabble for RoyEd week prompt: "Soul marks on the arm/wrist that Ed lost".

Roy walked forward on hesitant steps, unsure of his welcome right this moment.

Ed sat on the window seat of their shared bedroom, his whole posture withdrawn, his shoulders hunched over and his messy ponytail obscuring his features. Roy was positive he’d noticed his entrance, but Ed made no move to acknowledge him.

Roy sighed softly, his stomach feeling tight at the picture of misery Ed made, and drew on his not unlimited well of patience to offer some comfort.
He couldn’t begin to understand what Ed was going through.

He crossed over the last few steps that separated them, and laid a gentle hand on Ed’s shoulder. He knew he wouldn’t need to speak – Ed had always hated silences, between them especially, and within minutes he was proved right.

“It was supposed to work,” Ed uttered, the disappointment in his tone palpable.

Encouraged by his willingness to at least discuss the matter, he let his hand trail higher over Ed’s shoulder, to rest where flesh met automail. He chose his words with care, “It was always a gamble, and a lesser man, or alchemist for that matter, would not have been able to accomplish what you did. You have your brother back, Edward,” he reminded him.

“I know!” Ed burst out, finally turning his face towards Roy, and his golden eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “And I’m so glad for him, so fucking glad…but…” he trailed off, glancing down at his lap where his automail hand clenched against his thigh. “…but it was meant to fix me too. I wanted to be whole.”

“Oh Ed,” Roy whispered. “You don’t need fixing…” He brought his other hand up to cup Ed’s cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

“It’s not the leg or the arm that matters,” Ed continued, “it’s what was on it…”

Roy’s eyes closed in sudden understanding, cursing himself inwardly for not realising what exactly was bothering Ed – his beautiful, stubborn Ed, who faced the world with courage and a grin, and was so used to shrugging off his wounds that even Roy had difficulty recognising them.

He’d said it didn’t matter, the fact that he did not bear Roy’s name on his body, despite his own marking Roy’s hip. Roy had certainly never thought less of him for it – the soul mark was just a mark, such a small thing in comparison to what they shared.

And perhaps he’d truly not minded, until the possibility had been lost to him.

With a deep breath, Roy opened his eyes, his expression serious as he held Ed’s gaze. “Ed, I want you to listen to me,” he began, reaching into the belt of his military uniform, hand closing around the item that most military personnel carried as standard. With his other hand, he drew Ed’s right arm up towards him, uncurling the fingers one by one until Ed’s hand rested in the palm of his own.

“For all the soul-mates in the world, most are never lucky enough to find theirs.” He lifted the pen-knife and made the first mark in the metal of Ed’s palm. “Soul-marks are an aid, a physical symbol of a bond, and though they’re important, true, they’re only as important as you wish them to be.”

He started on the second mark. “I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you, and I would even without the bond. I want you to know you have always been mine…and I have always been yours.”

He continued to scratch into the automail, eyes still on Ed. “I want you to know you have always been whole to me, Ed, but if a mark is what you need to feel it too, then so be it.”

He finished the last of the marks, and dropped the arm holding the pen-knife to the side.

And Ed, whose tears had dried, who stared up at Roy with something very much like wonder, slowly withdrew his hand from Roy’s, and glanced down, his mouth forming an “oh” of surprise as he took in the three little letters now carved into the palm of his hand – not the same as on his flesh, but the meaning was there, and they were his, just as the man.

R O Y

Before Roy could even brace himself, Ed was flinging himself into his arms, and all he could do was hold on tight to the other half of him, the one person who truly made him whole.

Description
Art and Drabble for RoyEd week prompt: "Soul marks on the arm/wrist that Ed lost".

Roy walked forward on hesitant steps, unsure of his welcome right this moment.

Ed sat on the window seat of their shared bedroom, his whole posture withdrawn, his shoulders hunched over and his messy ponytail obscuring his features. Roy was positive he’d noticed his entrance, but Ed made no move to acknowledge him.

Roy sighed softly, his stomach feeling tight at the picture of misery Ed made, and drew on his not unlimited well of patience to offer some comfort.
He couldn’t begin to understand what Ed was going through.

He crossed over the last few steps that separated them, and laid a gentle hand on Ed’s shoulder. He knew he wouldn’t need to speak – Ed had always hated silences, between them especially, and within minutes he was proved right.

“It was supposed to work,” Ed uttered, the disappointment in his tone palpable.

Encouraged by his willingness to at least discuss the matter, he let his hand trail higher over Ed’s shoulder, to rest where flesh met automail. He chose his words with care, “It was always a gamble, and a lesser man, or alchemist for that matter, would not have been able to accomplish what you did. You have your brother back, Edward,” he reminded him.

“I know!” Ed burst out, finally turning his face towards Roy, and his golden eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “And I’m so glad for him, so fucking glad…but…” he trailed off, glancing down at his lap where his automail hand clenched against his thigh. “…but it was meant to fix me too. I wanted to be whole.”

“Oh Ed,” Roy whispered. “You don’t need fixing…” He brought his other hand up to cup Ed’s cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

“It’s not the leg or the arm that matters,” Ed continued, “it’s what was on it…”

Roy’s eyes closed in sudden understanding, cursing himself inwardly for not realising what exactly was bothering Ed – his beautiful, stubborn Ed, who faced the world with courage and a grin, and was so used to shrugging off his wounds that even Roy had difficulty recognising them.

He’d said it didn’t matter, the fact that he did not bear Roy’s name on his body, despite his own marking Roy’s hip. Roy had certainly never thought less of him for it – the soul mark was just a mark, such a small thing in comparison to what they shared.

And perhaps he’d truly not minded, until the possibility had been lost to him.

With a deep breath, Roy opened his eyes, his expression serious as he held Ed’s gaze. “Ed, I want you to listen to me,” he began, reaching into the belt of his military uniform, hand closing around the item that most military personnel carried as standard. With his other hand, he drew Ed’s right arm up towards him, uncurling the fingers one by one until Ed’s hand rested in the palm of his own.

“For all the soul-mates in the world, most are never lucky enough to find theirs.” He lifted the pen-knife and made the first mark in the metal of Ed’s palm. “Soul-marks are an aid, a physical symbol of a bond, and though they’re important, true, they’re only as important as you wish them to be.”

He started on the second mark. “I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you, and I would even without the bond. I want you to know you have always been mine…and I have always been yours.”

He continued to scratch into the automail, eyes still on Ed. “I want you to know you have always been whole to me, Ed, but if a mark is what you need to feel it too, then so be it.”

He finished the last of the marks, and dropped the arm holding the pen-knife to the side.

And Ed, whose tears had dried, who stared up at Roy with something very much like wonder, slowly withdrew his hand from Roy’s, and glanced down, his mouth forming an “oh” of surprise as he took in the three little letters now carved into the palm of his hand – not the same as on his flesh, but the meaning was there, and they were his, just as the man.

R O Y

Before Roy could even brace himself, Ed was flinging himself into his arms, and all he could do was hold on tight to the other half of him, the one person who truly made him whole.