I don't know if I can take it anymore. There are secrets everywhere. I can't take keeping them. I've kept secrets since me and Al tried to… well, we've moved on. And still people ask what happened to my arm and leg. Now I've got too many secrets. Yet it's so obvious.

It's obvious that I'm in love with Roy Mustang. Why can't anyone see it? It seems so damn obvious to me. Or, it seems so obvious to us... Roy says that if they can't figure it out for themselves, why tell the stupid idiots? Because they'll find a way to get a picture of us together, that's why.

It'll ruin his image.

It'll ruin his career.

He only wants to be with me because it's forbidden.

Those are just a few of the lies people have told me. I can't believe it.

"What would happen if I got in a relationship with Mustang?" I asked Hawkeye one day.

"It would ruin his image of Fuhrer. After all, Fuhrers can't be seen frolicking around his subordinates." She explained it simply. "Plus, the age difference is a big factor. People frown upon homosexual relationships as it is, and Mustang wouldn't want to be seen as some kind of pedophile."

Oh, if only she knew.

We would kiss within 20 feet of her, secretly "talking" in the alley.

We would hold hands under the table at meetings.

We would lay with each other on his couch when he was "doing paperwork".

And best of all, we would spend the weekend alone in his house, listening to the rain, or watching the sun, and simply basking in the presence of the other.

I figured it would last forever.

We were so in love.

Or so I thought.

My world came crashing to a halt that day in his office. He had called me in, like normal, and remained in his chair. I walked up to his desk, like I would normally do, and asked what was wrong.

"This, Edward," He waved his hand between us. "I just can't do it anymore." It stung, worse that I had ever imagined. "This can't go on." My body had been torn apart before, now I felt my soul being ripped to shreds. "I'm sorry." Then I was numb. I nodded and walked out of the room.

One… two… three steps. Seventeen… eighteen…nineteen steps. Thirty-five steps, thirty-six steps… and I broke. I almost made it, but Havoc saw me and asked me if something was wrong. Oh GOD, something was wrong.

I had never cried before. Not over something trivial like missing someone. Hell, I didn't cry at my own mother's funeral. I didn't cry when Winry's parents were pronounced dead. I'd always think about bringing them back. You can't bring back a relationship. But as soon as he asked that, I was distraught with emotion and all that heartbreak came pouring out. I ran.

So now I'm in my room, writing this letter to whoever finds it really. If it's Hawkeye, I'm sorry for being rude to you and whatever. If it's Havoc, I really don't know why you're reading this, I'm sure as soon as I mentioned I was in love with Roy you dropped it.

I highly doubt Al will be the first to find this; he has a happy life in the country and doesn't belong here in Central. I almost hope that Roy never reads this. I don't want him to think of me as a weakling. I don't want him to think I'm doing this because of him. I'm doing this for me.

I'm going to run away.

I know people say that if they write "Don't come after me" that they actually do, but I sincerely don't. I just don't want people to worry about me. So please, do not come after me.

I have a plan, and I have plenty of people who are willing to help me out. They're people I've helped in the past. (Don't tell Mustang that; he'll go digging into every mission I've ever been on to look for me.)

I'll call Al, but I'll never tell him where I am. I just want him to know I'm okay.

I'm still in love with Roy. I think I always will be. And I know he's still in love with me, he just can't be with me right now. Maybe if I come back one day, he'll take me. I'd like that.

Oh love, do you see what you do to me?

EPILOGUE (a/n: because I can't leave it alone.)

Roy Mustang sat at his desk with a frown on his face. After massaging his temple a bit, he turned back to the envelope on his desk. It was full of pictures.

Roy and Ed in an alley, kissing.

Roy and Ed at a restaurant, on a date.

Roy and Ed walking, holding hands.

Roy and Ed at home, Ed against the outside wall, while Roy ravished his neck.

Roy and Ed in the hot tub, making out while naked.

Roy and Ed at the office, lying together on the couch.

Roy and Ed in his office, Ed on Roy's lap at the desk.

And a few more explicit ones that Roy wondered how they had been taken. Windows, he presumed, where not good to have sex near.

He quickly shoved the photos back into the envelope, along with the note that was along with them. Roy put the envelope in a drawer just as the young alchemist walked into the office, without knocking, just like he always did. Mustang remained in my chair, almost unable to look him in the eye… almost.

"What's wrong?" His worry was there. Oh, he cared so much.

"This, Edward," He waved his hand between the two of them. "I just can't do it anymore." BANG. "This can't go on." Another metaphorical bullet went into the blonde, Roy could see it. "I'm sorry." And he truly, truly was.

The younger alchemist nodded, and then headed out of the room. Roy closed his eyes, hoping, almost praying, that he'd done the right thing.

General Mustang,

I've seen what you and your little alchemist have been up to. Do you honestly think that you'll get off scot-free? You have two options, Mr. Flame Alchemist. Number one: keep up your dirty, sinful acts. I'll send every military officer and newspaper employee copies of each of these pictures.

Option two: you dump the slutty brat and no one ever finds out you fucked a male, minor, whore of a subordinate.

Your choice, Mr. Mustang. You have until Wednesday at sundown.

"Please forgive me, Ed," Roy whispered to the empty room. "It's for your own good."

Wow, do you hate me right now? I'm supposed to do a big paper for English, but I like this more. I know I should update a different story, but… haha oh well. Hope you enjoyed it, despite the oddity of this fic.