Lichen

By mocha

Warnings, Disclaimers, and Whatnots: Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to others. Roy/Ed, boylove, romance. Birthday fic for the lovely Gogo-chan (sorry it’s so late!).

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When they were encased between concrete walls, they were adults, mature in thought and manners, well-aged in outside experience and with enough knowledge to fill a dusty shelf in the library. They took commands and executed them where required, they completed missions with the utmost skill and accuracy, and they set themselves on thin strings of life when sacrificing everything to maintain social peace. Salutes were exchanged in the halls. Reports were written, turned in, and accounted for. Research was passed down and distributed to enlighten others of handy and cruel tricks within the science of alchemy.

But when they were embraced by trees blossoming with yellow flowers, they were children again. They drew fake circles on the concrete with colored chalk and pretended they were using magic. They ran through marketplaces, drowning themselves in worthless laughter between booths of priceless delights, and pointed at exotic fish in pet stores. At night, they giggled into the pillows and pretended to be asleep. They stomped through crunchy autumn leaves and observed vast communities that the rocks gave home to. A slimy earthworm, a fat centipede, a skinny spider, all busy and buzzing around like tomorrow wouldn’t come. Each time they lifted rocks and disturbed insects, their fingers would touch scratchy green lichen that slowly turned into a stronger shade of bland grey every time they visited. But then more lichen, in young greens and yellows, would spread over the old grey and hide it until it was gone and forgotten. As adults, they would have taken notice of the lifestyle of lichen, but they were children in that moment, so they resorted to placing the rock back on its base and stroking the scratchy lichen one last time before returning to aged concrete walls and old library shelves.

---

Edward was a hypocrite in Central. He declared his adulthood in loud tones and defended his position with years of alchemical practice and a horrid tale that he was forced to experience when young. But Roy knew that Ed was still too far away from understanding true maturity. Tight responsibilities weren’t loaded onto Ed’s back daily, nor was he required to sit in a chair that groaned whenever he sat and sign piles of papers that held none of his concern. He had superiors to care for him when his faith was crumbling. He was too small for the standard military uniform. He hadn’t seen and tasted true warfare and its demonic nightmares. Too young for alcohol and too short to reach the older books on the upper shelves. He had witnessed the burdens of adulthood when he was ten, but he was young back then and still had more troubles to deal with as he aged.

But Roy had to admit that he denied his own age at times as well. There were times when he slipped away from paper piles to enjoy the outside light, or grinned thoughtlessly like the only war he had been active in was of those between children, where small hands would join together to build snow forts and toss harmless snowballs. A hit by a snowball meant a scene for a dramatic death, but once the child was immobile in the snow, he would jump up again and declare immortality. But perhaps when that child turned into an adult, he would see immortality bury itself in the snow and be picked up by other young hands. And after that, his only company would be lichen eating itself up on rocks as the seasons revolved around him.

More than anything, though, he and Ed were children struggling to grow. They stood close enough to touch but distanced themselves with arguments that were forgotten about the next day. Snowballs were constantly exchanged between them with no possibility of surrender from either side. And because they hit each other with white globes of immortality, they could continue battling until they were grayed with time.

They were locked in immature teenage crushes, but since both had their childhoods stolen and ripped into threads, neither was sure or confident in the steps they took. Hours were wasted on the library floor drawing new transmutation circles with simple white chalk, and more hours went to dinners where they spoke like grown people above the candle centerpiece and gossiped like adolescents around plates, tablecloths and salt and pepper shakers.

When it was dusk, they would meander around the park between rock pathways and gaze at the carefree children in envy. Typically they would turn around at such sights, but today, they grasped a moment of immortality within a sea of sand.

“Know what’s scary?” Ed said. He patted the sand with gloved hands so unwanted grains would stay out of hidden crooks in his automail. “I don’t think I’ve ever built a sandcastle before.”

Roy snorted. His fancy dress shirt had the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and they probably would have a nice collection of sand inside when he got home, but he had no concern for it at the moment. “That’s more pathetic than scary,” he replied, and received a punch in the arm for it.

“I didn’t grow up around beaches, okay?” He slapped the sand mounds with more ferocity. “And I could transmute this to make a better castle and we’d be done already.”

“Ah, but you’re missing the point, Fullmetal.” Roy scooped a small moat around their castle and noticed a crowd of children around them observing their work. “Hard work leaves a higher level of satisfaction when you’re finished. Taking the easy path all the time gives you less comprehension and experience, things of which you will need for future tasks.”

“It’s a sandcastle,” groaned Ed. “It’s doubtful I’ll ever end up in a situation where creating sandcastles are my only hope.”

But when they ceased their immature bickering, they molded the castle to perfection and made the group of children around them point in awe. Some brought back leaves and sticks coated in lichen to use as flags for the highest mounds and others sacrificed their bottles of water to fill the moat and give the castle protection. Roy stood up, brushed his hands and legs for clinging grains, and sighed in satisfaction.

“See? The end result is worth more.”

Ed stood up too and gazed at their work. It was a rather nice feeling to see his effort stand proudly in rolling sand mounds topped by leafy flags – a childish feeling, yes, but a child’s emotions were always stronger. Roy had recognized it would give the effect because he had knowledge from years of turmoil and disorder. Ed was now able to recognize it and was prepared to execute it when ready.

“Everyone destroy the castle!” he called out, and a dozen small feet pounded the sand back into its original form. Grains founds their way between shoes and fingernails, but everyone in the sandbox was young, so they stomped with no care or worry of what tomorrow would bring.

When dusk kissed the sky and the children were broken apart by their parents, Roy and Ed walked back between the rock pathway, a little closer than before, and left a trail of grainy sand behind them for others to observe.

---

When Edward fell ill, it was Roy’s responsibility to act as the adult. It was a known fact that the young alchemist could take care of himself, but spending countless nights in a cold library between stacks of moldy pages and ancient texts had often stretched his endurance.

Once Ed came into his room with rosy cheeks and a nose that couldn’t stop sniffling, Al would take charge of picking up medicine from the market – incredible how small Al’s voice sounded and how immense his maturity could be. Every time his older brother caught a cold, he would throw Ed onto his bed, wrap him in a cocoon of blankets, and then race off to the stores for remedies.

Lately, Roy had taken the role of watching over Edward while Al was shopping – a mission that had proved to be tricky to accomplish due to Ed’s immature fits over his caretaker.

“I don’t need to be spoon-fed, you bastard!” He wiggled deeper into the blanket cocoon, thinking that maybe there was an escape route conveniently placed at the end of the bed.

“If you would stop being such a brat and eat your soup like I asked you to,” Roy muttered through clenched teeth, “then I wouldn’t have to resort to feeding you like a baby.”

Ed broke through his warm prison and sat up to free his arms, just in case it became necessary to utilize them. “Don’t call me a-!”

A spoonful of hot soup stung his tongue and he gagged, perhaps a little too dramatically, but someone had to reveal to the Colonel how much of a jerk he truly was. Besides, they both knew that Ed had permission to act childish until his illness died away.

And when Roy was trying to weasel his way out of important military duties, Ed had to take the role of the adult and help his superior finish his paperwork, or track him down when Roy took the liberty of using his office window as an escape route in order to stroll aimlessly around the trees and make wishes on dandelions until Ed found him and scolded him for acting like he was young again.

But there were times when the day had been too long, so Roy would give all responsibility to Ed and spend his evening dropping ice cubes into a glass of aged scotch. Roy noted with mild interest that scotch was very similar to him: a stronger kick with worse morning effects as it aged trapped in oak barrels that creaked as the years ticked by, with little chance of seeing outer light again once it was corked into a glass bottle and set on the shelves to collect dust.

That was, until, a consumer strolled by and gave attention to the fine drink, someone who admired its tolerance through the decades and promised it a sweet and painless death through the bloodstream. A pity that Fullmetal was young and couldn’t pick the Colonel’s scotch off the shelf for him in the market.

Roy decided to stop after one glass that evening, realizing with a tired humor that only old men made such relations to drinks.

---

He dreamed in fire.

Old age caused memories to grow faint and fuzzy, but sometimes in his sleep, hidden goblins would visit him, tie him with white string and tap his skull with knuckles draped in rotten skin until his eyes jumped to catch them, but they would disappear in places he could never find. So he tried dreaming again to grab them and lock them away forever; however, it seemed that the goblins gained speed and agility by draining his mind more and more each year.

They carried pictures of children to his mind. They huddled in tight packs and squeezed their eyes shut so hard that Roy believed they would squeeze out the red color of their stained irises. He noticed that everything was red from where the children were crying. The floor drowned shamelessly in it from where he stood and the walls screamed from the act of a quick brush of gloved fingers. Red eyes stared at him, even redder now from crying; toes curled away from the creeping red on the dirt floor, though he felt it was the red on his blue uniform that scared them away. Or his young face, nearly as young as some in the huddling group, also drenched in red, and red fingerprints on his gloves where a red circle was written.

Snaps, screams, splashes of red everywhere, until he was blinded by fire and snapped his eyes open.

The dull company of his bedroom ceiling did not greet him when he woke; instead, he was accompanied by Edward’s face, which blocked him from seeing the office ceiling and the black couch he was resting on. The bedroom was always dark when the dreams nudged him awake, but the sun was touching the office windows vibrantly. The boy showed no concern in his eyes for the nightmare that visited Roy just recently, and no pity was given either. Roy was an adult and knew how to cope with it alone, but this time, he wanted to curl up like a child and be protected by someone other than himself.

He wrapped his arms around a red coat bathed in greeting sunlight and the goblins vanished.

---

Mornings had a sort of ambiance different from the other times of day. The afternoon required them to have focused minds until the late evening – often times a bothersome task, especially if the day was particularly bright and lively, the type of day where the children would be out playing in the fields plucking dandelions or unsettling insects in the soil. Mornings were like a brief purgatory, though perhaps not always the calm and collected balance it should have been.

Whenever Edward spent the night at Roy’s house, it was always Roy who woke up first in the morning at the cheery hour of six – a direct contrast to Ed’s sleep pattern, who liked to wake up around twelve or one in the afternoon (a habit he labeled as Roy’s own fault, because Edward complained that he never gave him the chance to sleep). However, on days when they were needed in Central, Roy found himself acting much like a father. He took his shower first, and after dressing, he had the challenge of waking Fullmetal up, all without receiving an annoyed punch, or even better, not having to drag the sleepy teen out of the bed and push him into the shower just to knock in some awareness into Edward’s head.

Roy then headed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Preparation was little work: toast with jam, coffee, of course, maybe an egg if he was feeling hungry. Maybe bran cereal if he was feeling old and needed fiber to keep his back in place.

His cereal collection, though, was no longer composed of bland grains pumped with vitamins. When Edward achieved twenty minutes in the shower, Roy turned on the kitchen sink to its highest level – a simple and successful ploy to get the young alchemist downstairs, seething and scowling and goosebumps on his neck from the merciless cold water that Roy rained upon him, but finally awake. Muttering to himself, Ed rummaged through what he dubbed as his cabinet in Roy’s tiny kitchen. It was a shelf he placed all the foods he refused to let Roy touch, although the contents of the section drew Roy away from it well enough.

Originally, it had been the home to Roy’s bran cereal, but that was quickly replaced with Ed’s large collection of especially sugary cereals and snacks smothered in assorted oils – more proof that Roy was getting old, because he could hardly swallow Ed’s favorite cereal brand that was dipped in a healthy amount of chocolate and powdery sprinkles.

“I know you’re in the age of growing and that you have to eat a lot more to make up for it, but…” Roy poked at the colorful cereal box, placed between him and Edward, who sat across the counter, “…you’re exceeding the amount, I believe.”

Ed swallowed a mushy mouthful of sweetened grains. “Better than that bran shit you had.” He poured another serving of cereal and milk into his bowl. “Better than your coffee, too. Only old bitter people drink it.”

Roy let a small yawn escape. “Well, I’ll make sure to ask for your opinion again in fifteen years or so, Edward.”

He consumed another mouthful and did not miss a beat. “You said my name.”

“I suppose I did.” He sipped his coffee and also did not miss a beat.

Edward released his spoon into the bowl with a ‘clink’ and grabbed his glass of orange juice – slightly bitter orange juice to counteract with the sugar he ate. “I think that gives me the right to start calling you by your name.” Lick, slurp, swallow, the orange juice was gone.

“You can start with ‘Sir Mustang.’” Roy smirked and dropped a sugar cube into his coffee, only to have a devious hand across from him grab a cluster of chocolate-tasting cereal and dump it into the mug.

---

Edward was an expensive habit; not because Roy purposely spoiled him with chocolates and fancy dinners, but because Ed made sure the Colonel spoiled him with such things. Ed’s appetite seemed to have no end, even after three full courses and dessert when they went out for dinner. Entertainment was purely Roy’s fault – the young alchemist’s views on culture were rather lacking, but once Roy took him to a live play, Edward demanded to be taken to the theatre for nearly every production. Not only that, but he also demanded that Roy buy them good seats that were up high or in the front row, not because he was short and couldn’t see elsewhere, but so he could get a better overall view of the stage.

Even in food at home, he was expensive. The refrigerator was suddenly packed with chicken, turkey, juices, eggs, several assortments of condiments, packages of pasta, three different types of bread, dark green vegetables, in-season fruits, stacks of candy bars stowed in the back – nearly everything except milk and things related to milk, excluding the chocolate ice cream with chocolate chips and fudge in the freezer.

Such a situation was enough to remind Roy of his goal to rise to the top of the military. Being a Colonel gave him a healthy salary, but lately he found himself watching his money more and more carefully. Originally it had been too much just for him; he spent it subconsciously in his home, bought paintings and luxurious fixtures and furniture to place within his house, mostly just to give it the illusion that someone was living there.

But then someone else was living there too, so Roy had to spare and conserve his money to support them both. He knew Ed appreciated it – doubtful that the boy had ever experienced the giddy delight of someone spoiling him endlessly due to his torn childhood. It was an odd change for him, but he accepted it anyway, even though he had a feeling Edward was trying to make him broke.

Roy choked on a mouthful of water when he opened the bill. Not because he couldn’t afford it, but because all of this was getting rather ridiculous.

“Unbelievable. You are officially going to be the end of me, Edward.”

“Stop complaining,” he said between a mouthful of sweet dessert. “You invited me here and I was hungry.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you could order the biggest plate of steak with potatoes and a salad on the side, along with a side order of garlic bread and still have room for a large glass of chocolate mousse and gelato. How Al manages to pay for you will forever baffle me.”

Ed swallowed a large spoonful of ice cream and attempted to retort, but grabbed his head and tried to rub off a brain-freeze like a four-year old.

---

The children outside abandoned the sandbox and moved to the field, where the atmosphere of spring would gather bugs under rocks and between strands of freshly grown grass. They stomped over the soil, possibly stomping innocent bugs along the way, but youth did not know the meaning of life. They held hands and carried each other towards the pathway made of rocks, where life was busy and in a constant motion – life too fast for their minds to comprehend. Fingers dug into the soil together and pulled the rocks away. Earth rained down on the hidden insects and forced them to move their lives at a faster pace. The lichen on the rock cracked and floated gently on the ground, which went unobserved by the children but became the prime interest of the ants. The children tried to slow them down with careless fingers – some caused them to slow, some caused them to flee faster, some caused them to stop moving completely.

A few kids grew tired of bugs and moved back to the field to pick dandelions. A boy and a girl, naïve in their joined hands, raced to tear out a dandelion before the others took them all. The weed was ripped and the stem was reduced to light threads. They held it together, one hand each, to prevent it from falling over.

“What should we wish for?” the boy asked.

The girl grinned and pulled their hands closer together with a young blush on her cheeks. “Let’s wish to get married!”

“Gross!” He blanched and stepped back, but kept his hold on the dandelion. “I don’t want to wish for something girly like that.”

“It’s not girly!” She stepped forward, brows furrowed. “I think it’s special. Doesn’t everyone want to get married someday?”

“No way.” The boy pulled the dandelion from her grasp, cruel and unforgiving. She tumbled and fell into the grass. A fat finger unknowingly crushed a spider hidden between the blades.

The action was too fast-paced for the boy to understand what he did, so he turned around, muttered “Get your own dandelion,” and ran off to enjoy the company of the shade from a solitary tree. The girl sniffled, but stood up again and bent down to hide her eyes while plucking a dandelion.

Roy walked along the rock pathway and turned away at the cluster of youths terrorizing the bugs. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the girl, though, and she nearly ran into him when she left the field with her personal dandelion clasped too tightly in her hands. She screeched to a stop when she came close to knocking against him and tried to mutter an apology, but it came out as baby babble through her quivering lips. She then jumped to the side and continued along her aimless path, until she found shade from a tree and sat against its cold, comforting roots.

Roy felt rather tempted to find his own lonely tree to hide under it as a shadow. It might have well been him and Edward clinging onto a dandelion and fighting over a single, silly wish. Then again, as much as they liked to brawl over anything possible, it was hardly serious or intended. Hardly, yes, but there were always exceptions.

He had already forgotten what he said to cause Edward’s eyes to freeze, his muscles to slacken and his entire body to give the impression that he simply shut off any communication to his mind. Typically, Ed would give rants and challenges and stomp his feet after a little banter, but when the fight truly hit him, he pulled the earth’s spin and made time tick agonizingly slower – slow enough for Roy to reflect the events leading up to it, unlike the quick incomprehensible action of the brawls between children.

The rocks showed no sand trails when he looked down – just jittery bugs going along their business and not caring for the little pairs of shoes blocking their paths. He looked up again to the shriek from a girl by the rocks when a green caterpillar started to crawl around her fingers. She shook her hand wildly to get rid of the fuzzy creature, and though it was persistent to adhere to its spot, the fast whips of her frenzied hand forced it flying, tumbling, and then slapping the rock pathway. It struggled to turn itself over, and with a few rolls, it was back on its hairy feet – unharmed, already forgotten of its fall, and ready to start on its carefree life once more.

Roy observed that it landed in front of a lichen-draped bench and, more specifically, a boot. When it began crawling away, it bumped into the boot, and the caterpillar moved its green head around for another direction to take. It turned away from the boot and melted back into the safekeeping of spring grass, and Roy took his attention to the boot.

The day appeared to be as clear as it could be; and yet, Fullmetal seemed to be unaware of the season – he hid from the sun underneath a red umbrella and wrapped tightly in his matching coat. He gave no attention to the children collecting rocks or the bugs marching underneath his feet or the yellow leaves around him. All focus was on Roy; a blank stare greeted him with curious, questioning eyes, and given a darkly shade from the umbrella. He left Roy not a moment to react, and he pulled the earth’s spin on a string when he stood up. The grooves of his boots missed the busy ants on the rock pathway as he strolled by without a glance behind his back.

It’s not raining today, Fullmetal, Roy thought. He kicked a green leaf that had probably been plucked by immature fingers. He probably deserved it.

The bugs were scrambling faster now due to the change in the atmosphere. The children reached out to chase them, but they soon found that they were the ones being chased. Hands slapped against falling water as their little feet raced to their parents, who quickly sheltered them from the harmless weather. Spiders and lady bugs and ants burrowed deep into the soil where the water could not catch them. The boy abandoned his dandelion in replacement for his umbrella and ran back into the trees, where he found the girl peeking out from under the fresh branches, eyes red but still hopeful.

He opened the umbrella and selflessly leaned it over her head. “Mama always says that you’ll catch a cold if you stand out in the rain.”

“Thank you,” she stuttered softly. Her fingers dropped the dandelion and took the boy’s outstretched hand with a smile. Whatever they had been fighting about had been forgotten, and they crushed wet dandelions under their feet as they ran through the field.

Roy strolled slowly on the pathway and felt his elbow get bumped by umbrellas that were held by young hands. The unexpected rainfall had managed to seep through his uniform and he couldn’t prevent a chilling shiver from tickling his body. Groups of children smacked their feet into puddles forming along the pathway – later, they would discover their toes to be frozen and shaking, but for now, the spin of the world did not apply to them.

Roy arrived at his home – empty except for the inanimate furniture and fancy paintings – completely soaked, boots weighted and soggy with water, and hair spilling little droplets onto his cold nose. He had the luxury of peeling off his clothing and hanging them himself, along with a quick dinner composed of bran cereal and scotch, a hot shower to melt his bones for over thirty minutes, only to collapse into a chilly bed absent of carefully crafted metal that was typically cold, but not vacant of warmth like the sheets.

A visit from red goblins and a frozen atmosphere in the dark room told him that it was all rather childish.

---

Here they were again, back in the same spot the earth had wedged them in, but the rotation of the axis had been restored. The clouds had disbanded and he took the opportunity to make up for his disturbed walk the other day. Of course Fullmetal would do the same, and they had returned to scratching at lichen and forming palaces of sand.

Roy picked at his sand mound – it was a little more pitiful and half-hearted than the last mounds they created. “Would you like me to apologize?” he asked.

“Not really.” Edward sighed and nudged the sand with his foot. A boy observed the scene and gathered a group of friends to bring sticks, pebbles, and leaves. A girl dropped a small pile of buttercups and dandelions on the side of the sad piles of grains.

Roy pushed at the sand with his foot in a lazy fashion of molding a castle. The mound stayed put for a moment, but then quickly collapsed back into the bumpy surface of the sandbox.

“That’s just like us, isn’t it?”

“Probably.” Ed stretched his arms until a few joints cracked in protest, and then began putting effort back into his creation. A few children already had bottles filled with water ready and leaves tucked into pockets. Some of them joined in the castle building and placed their hands together to form a wall and keep the slippery grains in shape. Roy scooped out a moat and helped pour protection around it, while Ed reached around the creation to stick twigs and shredded flowers on top of the highest roofs. The children, feet submerged in sand and hands clasped around dandelions, giggled and squealed at their group effort.

Roy laid back into the sand and stared at the sky. Upon wiggling his toes, he could feel tiny specks of sand disturbing the compacted space in his boots. Perhaps he should have taken his boot off and clean it out, but he wanted to admire the castle for a bit longer with the crowd of children.

He still felt compelled to act somewhat mature in his current situation. “Can I apologize anyway?” he asked again.

Ed grumbled a bit and turned part of his attention to drawing shapes in the sand with a finger. “It doesn’t matter. But I won’t fully forgive you until you take me to a restaurant. And I want it to be expensive so that one day, I’ll be granted with the pleasure of seeing your sorry face weeping at the sight of your wallet.”

The Colonel stretched his toes again and felt a few grains find their way between them. He would have to sweep the floor of his house when he got home, but he could always do that later. “Of course.”

A girl in a crisp spring dress pranced over to them and dropped an assortment of items from nature. She then ran off with the other children, blushing but proud in her gift-giving.

“Ah, gross.” The alchemist picked up a patch of lichen in the pile of leaves and flowers left at his disposal. “It’s green on top but all gray and nasty looking on the bottom. It’s like it’s eating itself.”

“I believe it’s called ‘nature,’ Edward.” He sat back up and brushed off his hands and clothes, only to find himself repeating the process when the boy next to him dumped a handful of sand on his leg. He could only smile slightly – he deserved it anyway.

Ed replaced the lichen and picked up a dandelion. He twirled it around his metal fingers for a moment and blew air at the top. The stem stretched back and the seeds were forced off the base. The light breeze gave them little lift and they landed in the sandbox – some on the castle, some in the water and others hidden elsewhere.

Roy stood up and questioned, “Did you wish for something?”

“No,” replied Edward. He tossed the stem away and stood up as well. Sand grains clinging on his clothes lost their balance and tumbled back to the ground. “Couldn’t think of anything I wanted.”

They departed on the rock pathway, waving goodbye to the excited children. Neither looked back as several pairs of young feet stomped into the castle and crushed it until no trace of it was left. Leaves and lichen-covered sticks crumbled underneath the forceful feet and disappeared into the sand to be found at another time. Their play eventually had to cease, and they disbanded when their mothers called them at sunset. They extended their time just a moment longer along the rock pathway and took notice of the sandy trails and rocks draped in cool lichen.

---

End