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maybeanartist02 · 6 years

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The Five Stages of Falling In Love by Edward Elric

People tell you that there are 5 stages of grief, but what they don’t tell you is that there are 5 stages of falling for someone.

Hi, I’m a linguistics and science major at Royal Amestris, and I’ve fallen in love with my novelist Best Friend, Naomi Brighton.

Perhaps you’ve heard of her, she wrote the groundbreaking Soul Cross triology, and a series called Koralyne, which revolves around a closeted trans lesbian. I’ve won a few awards for my projects too, but nothing she has.

Anyways, I think I should get back to the story. Here’s stage one.

1. Encounter

It was a sunny day, way too hot for my mechanic leg to rest comfortably on my skin. I was sipping a milkshake while sitting in my town’s local library, Books n’ Cookies. The name really suited the place, since it was a sort of safe haven for homeless guys, or LGBT folk hiding from family members or homophobic friends. They didn’t charge you for the cookies, at least in money. If you want a cookie and a drink, all you had to do was show your receipt for borrowing a book.

Sheska, my classmate, was the one who first introduced it to me, and wow, I’m glad she did.

Anyway, I was sipping the white, icy, beverage, when the door’s bell chimed. I was sitting at the tiny café area, flipping through a YA novel written in my target language, French. It was about an Asexual Biromantic girl, learning how to understand how Homophobia originated. Naomi walked past me at first, and ordered a drink and a cake. She then walked past my table, and she must’ve read an entire paragraph before saying: “The Girl and The Homophobes? Good choice. A LGBT Classic.” I looked up, and scanned her appearance. She was wearing a red headband, a light blue cardigan over a white blouse, a jean skirt with multiple LGBT and fandom badges; biromatic, demisexual, Percy Jackson, Zelda, Voltron, and some of her own merch. She was also sporting white sneakers on which she had painted the words ‘I’m Here and I’m Queer’ over them both. Her left leg was made of the same metal which my right one was created with. She had light brown skin, which reminded me of Professor Miles, freckles, deep black hair, and steely silver eyes.

“Wh—oh, yeah. You know it?” I spluttered after a moment. She laughed, and leaned against the table, “Know it?” she asked, “I wrote it!” I gaped, “Seriously?” she laughed simply, nodding, “Yeah. It’s the first thing I’ve published,” she supplied. I nodded, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. “It’s good,” I said, “have you published anything else since?” Naomi nodded, “I’ve written the Soul Cross Legends book, and the short story Petrified.” My jaw dropped, “Seriously!? I love Petrified!” Naomi laughed, and nodded to the chair in front of me, “May I?” she asked. I nodded, a little surprised she wanted to continue talking.

She sat down and unpacked her macbook. I whistled, “sweet.” Naomi rolled her eyes, “Only one of the perks of being a semi popular author,” I clicked my tongue, “Semi? Dude, my entire linguistics class loves your books. You should start your own library.” Naomi barked a laugh, “What? I wouldn’t make any money with that! I don’t even have enough books to fill a library.” I propped my arm on the table, “But you could.” “Do you have any idea how long it takes to write a book?” “No, but I bet you’ll tell me.” “Petrified took two years, with character creation and research. I asked people with PTSD and war veterans to write Gabby.” I whistled appreciatively, “That’s commitment.” Naomi huffed, starting up her macbook, “Or is it just proper representation?” She asked, at my widened eyes she chuckled: “I asked my trans lesbian friend on Koralyne too, so don’t underestimate my ability to do the proper research.”

I raised my arms defensively, “Alright, I won’t. You’ve proven yourself worthy, bookworm,” I joked. Naomi laughed, “If I’m bookworm,” she pointed at the Bill Nye The Science Guy badge on my sweatshirt, “Does that make you Science Prince?” I laughed, “That’s better than Alchemy Prince,” Naomi giggled, tilting her head, “What’d you do to earn that name?” I groaned, rolling my eyes, “I held a presentation in High School about Alchemy Theory, and I’m researching it now, I got the name from my High School science teacher,” I grinned, “Man, Mrs. Curtis was an amazing teacher, always encouraged me and my brother.” Naomi smiled, “You have a brother?” I nodded. “He’s a year younger than me, studying linguistics and history currently.” Naomi sighed, leaning on her palm, “Wow that’s so cool. I can’t afford going to college, so I work at a cozy little Library.” Her smirk told me that yes, I work here.

We ended up talking for two more hours, and exchanging numbers.

That was how I met my best friend.

2. Friendship

I’ll be honest, I hadn’t noticed I’d befriended her until she invited me to play Zelda with her at her apartment. It was a larger apartment uptown, and the mailbox in the entry hall had three names pasted onto it: Brighton, Alvarez and Mckinnon. I guessed Alvarez and Mckinnon were her roommates. I knocked on her door on the 6th floor, and let her pull me inside. She jumped over her couch and crashed onto it with a muffled ‘POOMPF’. I dropped my bag onto the floor and fell onto the couch. She had moved to sit in front of it, cross legged, controller on her lap. “Welcome,” she said, as I lied on the couch, “to El Palacio de la diversidad, The Palace of Diversity.” I chuckled, “How diverse can it be with three people?” “You’d be surprised,” she said cockily, “Lysanna is Latinx, Cuban, to be exact, Ashley is from Cherokee decent. My parents moved to France two generations ago, then, my parents moved to madrid and I was born there. Then, I came here with Lys and Ash.” I whistled, “A woman of many cultures I see.” “Not to mention the diversity in sexuality and gender; I’m Demisexual and Bi, Ash is Pan and trans, Lys is queer.” I raised a brow, “just queer?” Naomi nodded, pressing buttons on her remote, “yep, she’s still trying to figure it out, but she has dated men, women, in between – basically, she’s seen it all.” I laughed, “Seriously?” Naomi giggled, “Yep! Without her I doubt Ash would be so confident today.” I tilted my head, “And you?”

She froze. Her muscles tightened (and believe me, there was a lot to tighten), and her nostrils flared. Her eyes turned steely, “I don’t think anyone can help me recover from my lost pride.” For a moment, I simply stared at her. When I inhaled, ready to ask her ‘Why’s that’, she bolted up. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and waved. Then, she disappeared down the hall. As she was absent, I looked at the polaroids decorating the walls, shelves and tables. There was a white string above the kitchen counter, as well as the TV. On all pictures stood Naomi, with two other girls, sometimes just one, other times Naomi wasn’t depicted. There was a pink polaroid camera on the shelf above the TV, next to it a picture of a girl with brown skin, dark brown curly hair, and sparkling green eyes. In pink marker the white area of the picture read, ‘I’m better than you at everything, but above all else: sex. –Lys’ There was a manuscript of The Girl And The Homophobes, next to it was a picture of Naomi in a bright blue, flower printed sundress and straw hat. It read: ‘Feelings aren’t sensible. People don’t make sense, and love doesn’t either. The people who do, are often times the wrong ones. – Nao’ the last item was a mannequin head, on which orange cat-ear headphones rested. The polaroid taped to the mannequin had a picture of a girl with light brown hair, dark red eyes and brown skin, and scars along her arms. She was wearing an orange sweatshirt-vest, and black jeans. It read ‘I have a free life long trial of feeling okay. –Ash, 2017’

Just then, Naomi returned. She was holding a blue, white and silver bracelet that she had made herself. It was made of wool, one of those classic friendship bracelets that were popular a few years ago. She must’ve noticed the ones I wore, green and blue from Winry, a brown and gold one from Al, a yellow, white and gold one from Ling, a green and black one from Lan Fan, the list went on. “Here,” she said, handing it to me, “This is for you. A gift.” I took it, eyes blown wide, “Thanks.” Naomi smiled, and sat down again. “I consider us friends, you know.” I hummed, “That’s good to know, Bookworm.” After a moment of silence, the only sound coming from her controller, I added: “I consider us friends, too.”

She grinned, silver eyes sparkling with delight.

3. Trust

She hadn’t come to the Library that day. That set me off. “Don’t worry about it, Brother,” Al had said, “She was probably just feeling under the weather.” I had hummed, but I didn’t believe it. She normally texted me if she wasn’t feeling well, so this was new. I left Al when he began talking to Mei, and ran uptown – to Naomi’s apartment.

I bounded up the stairs and knocked on the apartment door. At least, I slid to a halt before it, just as the door opened and a familiar face exited. “Hm? Ed? What are you doing here?” Lys asked, green eyes glittering curiously. “Naomi didn’t show today,” I said, “Just wanted to check that she’s okay.” Lys deflated, green eyes turning dark. “She’s in her room,” she said grimly, “last door on the right. She’s…she needs someone she can trust.” I frowned, “And it’s not you?” Lys smiled sadly, “I’m not you, apparently.” With that, she dropped the apartment key into my hand and left.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside. After dropping the key in it’s holder on the dresser next to the door, I headed towards Naomi’s room. There was a whiteboard pinned to the door, and the quote had been written with wet marker: “Dying is Easy, Living is Harder –Lin Manuel Miranda” From behind the door I heard coughing and broken sobs. I pushed the door open carefully, and my eyes flew over Naomi, wrapped in a bi pride flag blanket, curled up into a ball, sobbing uncontrollably.

I slowly walked to her bed and sat down. She continued to cry until I placed my hand on her head tentatively. She stopped sobbing, and moved her head to my lap. “What happened?” I asked, voice quiet. Naomi hiccupped, “M-My step mom…I-I thought…I thought she—she had texted me…” I was no mind reader, but I guessed she didn’t like her step mom much. The way she avoided talking about her ‘Family’, I could only guess that she was the victim of Homophobia, Sexism, Abuse, or all of the above. I pet her head, and whispered, “I’m here. You’re safe.” I wanted to say ‘You’re safe,’ but I couldn’t lie to her, and I didn’t know if it really was safe. She coughed. “I’m…I’m sorry, I’m bad at this.” I said. “J-Just…cuddle?” she sobbed, and I froze. After a moment my shock morphed into a smile, “Sure.” I said, crawling into bed next to her.

We lied in silence, me cradling her in my arms. I found we did this a lot, acting like a couple, even though we weren’t. I never did this with anyone else, it was something only Naomi knew of me.

Suddenly, she spoke: “I was 7 when Ash told me she thought my mom was abusive,” I froze, my hand stopped stroking her back, “It wasn’t until I was 11 that the police did something. I was put in a foster home. I thought…I thought mom’s hit their kids, and that they refused to feed them when they got bad grades. I though Mrs Mckinnon was the weird one.” Ashley Mckinnon saved Naomi. That was a fact I knew then. I pulled her closer and whispered, “You’re free now. You’re here.” Naomi hummed, the vibration resonating through my body, “To this day, I flinch everytime someone gets really angry.” I frowned, I knew that. I had been on the ‘really angry’ side of the situation sometimes.

“I won’t let her hurt you again,” I said, “I know Ash and Lys won’t either.” Naomi nodded, and grasped my shirt. “Thanks,” she husked, “Thanks Ed.”

4. Recognition/Acceptance

It was simple, really.

It was such a small thing, I’m surprised I didn’t notice it sooner. We were sitting at the library café, laughing, joking, talking, brainstorming fic and novel ideas. Her eyes crinkled, and her grin was wide. Her gray eyes were sparkling, and looked like pure silver, she was curling a strand of hair around her fingers, her raid nails creating a contrast to her black hair. Had her eyes always been such an indescribable shade between silver and blue? I wasn’t sure.

I felt my face grow hot, the warmth spreading to my ears when she began to play with her red earrings. Red reminds me of you, she had said when buying them with me, so I’ll be sure to always think of you when I wear these.

Remembering that sent electricity through my body.

Oh no.

5. Confession

We were on the Central City Pier, our feet dangling over the edge as the sky painted the sea in dark shades of blue under the setting sky. The sky was dipped shades of red, blue and purple. She was wearing shorts and a blue bikini top. A red ribbon held her braid together.

She was smiling, licking her strawberry ice cream. Her lips were red from the cold, but she never shivered. She looked at me, and I whipped my head away. I felt hot from my nose to my ears, and then she did something that made me grow hot all over:

She touched my ear.

I turned around and she pulled her hand back. “You’re warm,” she said, silver eyes blown wide. The wind picked up and brushed her hair into a frazzled mess. I probably looked just as disheveled. “Mhm,” I hummed, glaring at the horizon. Naomi pouted, and scooted nearer. She studied the side of my face as I sipped my slushie. I felt my cheeks heat up. She tilted her head. “What’s wrong with you? You look like the sun just ruined Al’s surprise Birthday party.” I rolled my eyes and glared at Naomi. She smiled, “Now you look like I missed an expertly planned Chemistry pun.” “That’s how I feel, too.” Naomi laughed, “Oh yeah? Pray tell, what did I miss?”

I glared at my slushie, now, and felt the heat spread down my neck. “You’re such a hypocrite,” I deadpanned, making her squeak indigilantly, “You call me oblivious while being 100% clueless yourself.” Naomi frowned, “What do you mean?” She got on all fours and stared at me intently. I looked at her, which was a mistake. Her face was positioned in a way that it was nearly impossible not to look down her shirt. I cursed, then turned to her. I grabbed her arms and pulled her into a sitting position.

“Are you stupid?” I asked, “or just in denial?” Naomi deflated. “Denial,” she hummed, “I just don’t get how you could possibly have a crush on me.” I scowled, “Hell if I know. You’re cute I guess.” She laughed airily, “You guess?” I shrugged, releasing her. After a minute, she said: “How can you be in love with a fuck up like me?” “If with fuck up you mean you fuck me up, then, easy, you just…do.” Naomi smiled, and intertwined our fingers, “Can you help me love myself again?” I looked at our hands, face hot, “I can try. No, I…I promise I will.” Naomi laughed, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” “I only make ones I can.”

I hadn’t realized how much her words affected me (and vice versa) until that moment.

Then, she pushed me against the pier and kissed me.

#EDOMI #selfship #fma #fma:b #fullmetal alchemist #edward elric #fic.png #naomi brighton #alphonse elric #mei chang #sheska #izumi curtis

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