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Envy/Ed. G. ~350 words. Alternative timeline. Dubcon.
People change; Envy doesn’t.

He’d never get used to Envy watching him with his father’s eyes.

Envy–or Nicholas, or Thomas, or whatever he calls himself this week–lounges on the faded daybed, one arm tucked under his head for a pillow. A lazy curl of smoke drifts out from between his smirking lips.

Ed ignores him. His suitcase hits the floor hard enough to rattle a half-empty glass sitting on the little table. A month ago, if he’d found Envy making himself right at home in his pathetic excuse for a room, he’d have flung it straight at the bastard’s head.

He’s still tempted, but it just isn’t worth the effort. People change; Envy doesn’t.

“He always was a narcissistic fucker,” Envy says.

Ed doesn’t know if Envy’d been the one who finally killed Hoenheim, or if it’d been time itself that had caught up to his father. He probably never will. Some days, he wonders if it even matters.

“How else did you think you ended up looking like me?” Envy continues, and takes another long draw.

In Ed’s mind, Envy always looks like Envy: pale flesh, dark hair, the flash of a twisted smile. It surprises him every time he sees that smile on that face.

He puts away his things, and doesn’t turn around.

“One by one, little brother,” the sickeningly familiar voice purrs into his ear as arms slide around his shoulders. “Just because they looked like him.”

He doesn’t want to believe it, even when he knows it’s true. His father had killed to create the stone, had killed to live on borrowed time. Maybe he’d deserved to die. Maybe Envy deserved to do it.

He feels like he doesn’t know anything anymore. He never really did.

“A murderer.” Envy draws the word out as if to savour it. “Guess it runs in the family.” He laughs. Ed wishes it didn’t sound so much like his own.

Envy’s lips against his neck burn, and the tip of the cigarette glows red like dying coals.

“Welcome home.”

End

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