Title was inspired by Kelly Clarkson's "Addicted". I must note that I heard that song after I finished this. Listen to it while reading; very creepy. Also, this is Winry/Roy and thus automatically dysfunctional - you were warned. Any and all questions may be directed to the back of my head.
It was all for the best, in the end. What they had had was a foolish affair; nothing more than a midlife crisis and a rebellion, respectively. Two years now since he'd last touched her, two months now since she's known. Her blonde hair is damp with sweat and tangled up in a knot to keep it out of the way. She's brushing her fingers over her abdomen for reassurance now that she's realized that they are alone. The fact that his smile is bitter makes her want to back away, but she knows him by now - well enough that she knows he'd chase after.
Roy Mustang had never chased anything in his life until her. Sometimes she worries that he's still chasing. When he steps forward she worries in undertones that she might still be caught. There's a fluttering and she rushes about, offering him a seat, tea (no, not tea, maybe some lemonade, or cider – it's summer; summer deserves juices and wines), maybe a game or two until her husband returns and finds the bastard in his chair; she offers him everything except any part of her. He's been known to take advantage. He's been known to fight dirty. Winry swallows and sinks into her coach cushion – he is not replying, he is not moving and (worse of all) he is not covering up everything with a smirk. There is a sudden urge to run, but she is stiff and stuck, her tongue likewise sealed to the roof of her mouth. All of this because it's been two months, and he's only given her four. The Flame Alchemist has never claimed to be kind, but he's never been this outright cruel.
Now she's thinking in lines – like the teacher used to punish her with when she yelled in class or picked a fight. (Iwillnotscream,Iwillnotscream,Iwillnotscream.) It's different now, because the other line would trap her if she were to take it as her mantra. (I will not fight.) She has to fight now, for more than just herself. For more than just Edward.
This isn't just anything.
Winry wonders how the air can be so thick when he only walked in two minutes ago. He is like a curse, she supposes, that she picked up in some ancient tomb somewhere. Only it's not that vague and she remembers it all. Being who she is, living as she has, she always remembers like she's living it again and pain is hard to forget. It hadn't been some foolish crush. He hadn't been some fling. This – that had been no light teenage crush or temporary insanity on either part. If it had than why was he here now and why was she not yet gone? There was nothing so heavy as guilt and longing – she was living it all over again. Right now she's aware that it was a mistake to let him in, this time and that first time and that second time. She is ten kinds of fool and idiot – all that could be said for him was that he didn't mind and was persistent.
Two months since. Two months 'til. To her horror she realizes he wasn't just making some idle threat then. This is real and really not so new. Winry is scared; if anything holds to pattern and fate, she will give in like all those times before. Four months, four mistakes in the end. She wants to go back to two, but that means going back to him. She'd rather fight this and fail then betray her dearest friend this way.
She's afraid she has already betrayed him in the worse way. All this and she is undone in two visits, with two demands and two questions.
The sound of footsteps shock her out of her oblivion and she quietly allows him to kneel by her armrest and cup her cheek in burn-scarred hand. Roy is unfair and a bastard and she regrets that she ever gave him the chance to prove these accusations wrong. She hates him because she is out of control. Her wrench is in the garage and out of reach and she wishes that he would just let go or, at least, let her let go. Yes, she's aware of the fact that she's not this powerless and that anything can substitute as a fine weapon, but it's much easier this way, much easier to let it all be him and never her. Just like it was two years ago. When he looks at her now she knows that he knows by that haunted, strained stare that never wavers from her face. She wishes he was looking at her lips. Then it could be lust and anything but the truth.
Now he retreats his gaze to her abdomen. This makes her feel no better. There are certain things he will never understand and this is one of them. Her shoulders slam into the back of the couch when he leans forward toward the bulging area of flesh and creamy belly. She shakes her head at him and finally says something other than silence and it rings out–
She shudders at the light peck, tensing with yearning from the rough, chapped lips that curve into a vicious and wide smirk at her reaction before he leans in again and teases her naval into goosebumps. He leaves a trail of saliva from this attention; probably quite on purpose. He's a bastard that way.
Fingers slide into his hair and grasp and pull him away. Her teeth are clenched so they may not chatter, so that her tongue will not break loose and say stupid things or slip into his mouth. With fixed movements she yanks hard and releases and tumbles herself over the armrest on her right to escape him and her own feelings.
It's too late for this now. She's let him go too far and now she knows she only has two months left. Why, oh, why didn't she resist earlier on when she'd had the chance to finally break free of this trap with the great promise of the end to this running? Even if he'd continued chasing?
Roy brushes her cheek before she forces him out the door and another kiss is stolen and she's been sealed in with this number two. Winry doesn't cry. Crying is useless and you cannot be a sore loser in a game you started. It's only now that it's too bad that for them it was real. It's too bad now that she has Edward. If anything she is angry, because she knows exactly what has been said for all that Roy said nothing. She is angry, because he is forcing her to share this shameful blame, burden, sin with him. Not even forcing - it would be too easy for her that way. No, he is asking. It's all too obvious what was said.
With that first kiss she knows that he expects her to leave her child as motherless as he'd left her.
With the second she knows that she will.