?

Log in

Previous Entry | Next Entry

MISSION no. 4 Entry

Title: At the Altar
Author: Lucifer Hisaki (mercy_slays /luciferhisaki )
Rating: PG
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Maes Hughes/Roy Mustang
Summary: He doesn't remember.
Disclaimer: You do not have a legal suit for the whole FMA thing. So don't even try. Lyrics taken from the song "Here Comes the Bride" by Spin Doctors
Notes: Sequel to "To Pray is to Redeem", but that doesn't need to be read to understand this. Though it helps. ^^;
Word Count: 858

† At the Altar †


Here she comes on down the aisle
Behind her veil she wears a smile
In her hands the bright bouquet


He doesn’t remember.

You stare at her, wondering if she knew what had transpired only hours before. He doesn’t remember. He couldn’t remember. He was intoxicated but you know. You remember everything. You remember how he took you and how you spread bent over the altar, spreading your legs for him; completely in the nude; giving him your ass just like the whore you really are inside.

The hand you placed on your best friend’s shoulder keeps him grounded, but the mere contact makes you think you’re about to have a heart attack. Your heart beats faster with each step she makes toward you both. Your blood runs cold with fear and anxiety, yet you appear calm and collected. Quite the actor you are.

Your think you’re about to die when he whispers how beautiful she is and you’re once again happy he doesn’t remember. You cannot bear to look at the bride in the eyes. The white of her dress hurts your eyes so much you have to turn away but you can’t. You won’t. It would be an insult, salt on a wound still so fresh—a festering injury that won’t heal. Taking a deep breath, you squeeze the groom’s shoulder and grins at him, forcing happiness into your smile.

Nothing is more tempting than to just tell him you have to go, that you cannot bear to stay standing next to him. The man you love smiles back at you, turning back to his future wife.

Daddy's here to give the bride away


Your eyes focus on the man next to her, next to this woman of grace and you swallow the lump in your throat. Holy Father, art in Heaven… You turn your sight again on the white dress, the blinding virginal image of pristine innocence. How must you feel to be standing here, knowing that deep in your heart you do not belong anywhere in this holy ground.

Temptation grips your heart; sin wraps around your body and you feel like you’re about to cry, to die. You want to speak out, tell your best friend that you have to leave. That you cannot stay. What would happen when the priest asks for any objections? Would you admit to the ultimate sin? Would you? Could you?

Would you confess everything to the man next to you? The man you love and cherish more than anything just before he is finally taken away from you?

Shaking your head, you step backwards once and smile at him widely. You’ll carry the sin, the knowledge and remember the hours before this wedding, this ending; this beginning. No one would remember, no one would know. You’ll carry it to your grave. To your death and beyond.

You nod at the man beside the bride, watching your best friend take the woman’s arm and you admire the dress she wears. Lace and silk. It burns. It burns your eyes and you cannot stand to gaze on it. You have to look away but you don’t. Just like your flames, you watch them, letting them burn everything around you and inside you. You know full well that you cannot look away.

Not with the name you have, not with the reputation you groomed.

You are no coward save inside your heart.

You stand tall, head high, smiling brightly—forcing more light and happiness into your grin—gazing on the couple to your left as you face the altar, the crucifix and start to breath your own vows of sin and love to the façade that stares down on everyone in the room.

Everything starts to blur and you cannot help but wonder if it is a blessing or a curse to your ears. You smile and laugh, shifting from one foot to the other minutely, unsure of what to do when the vows finally come around.

The priest asks for the ring.

Best man fumbles for the band


You find it easily, hidden in the lining pocket on the inside of your jacket as you hand it to the groom. You laugh and whisper a final mocking protest to your friend, telling him now is the last chance to go, to leave and stay a bachelor. He laughs, thinking of it as a jest but you know there is real truth in your words, but you do not correct him. You stare into the bride’s eyes and nod, stepping down and away from them, letting them stand alone with the priest in front of the altar.

Now would be a perfect time to leave but you don’t.

You don’t move. You’re frozen with a grin hurting with pain and love; bleeding from sorry. Your eyes feel wet.

Groom puts it on her trembling hand


Clasping your hands behind your back, you straighten your back, telling yourself that he needs to know you’re still there even if he cannot see anything but the woman before him. Your eyes burn with holy white and you think there is an aura around them. You stand your ground, listening as your heart breaks; shattering on the wooden floors.

Almost before the vows are through
In her calmest voice she says, "I do."


† The End †



I live off your reviews. Really. So please feed me?

Profile

magna_opera
Magna Opera

Latest Month

June 2007
S M T W T F S
     12
3456789
10111213141516
17181920212223
24252627282930
Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by chasethestars