HE SNAPS, & SHE WINCES.  Not because she’s afraid   ( she knows he’d never hurt her, she knows he would never even consider it, no matter the amount of strain he’s under ),   but because she can feel the weight of his responsibility. Or, she thinks she can. It’s like the night is closing in around them; as the sun sets, & the sky darkens, it falls heavily upon her shoulders & she thinks she can catch a fleeting glimpse of what it must feel like to be the Elric brothers. 

     The past few weeks … no, months … no – years. They’ve been exhausting. They’ve pushed her farther than she ever wanted to go, & they’ve had her wishing she was someone else, somewhere else, sometime else. She’s got next to nothing to deal with, when standing next to Ed & Al. 

     So, yeah, she winces. She wants to make his life easier, somehow. She wants to help. Reminding him of how tough it is to be him sure isn’t the best way to do that. 

     Wind whispers past her ears & she tucks her hair back behind them, thinking for a moment that she misses the feel of her earrings, remembering that Ed has them. Ed —– where is he? 

     Suddenly, Al is saying something about her & Ed getting married, & she’s sitting straight as a ramrod, cheeks a deep red, sputtering,   ‘Wh – what? We’re not —– I’m not ———’

     She crumples the next second, head in her hands.   ‘I just hope he’s all right, Alphonse.’ 

❝  he  promised  me  he  wouldn’t  die   .     ❞              and  we  all  know  how  promises  hold   !         we  know  what  they  mean     !          bite  back  the  shadow    ,    let  sunshine  spill  through  .            ❝  we  have  too  much  to  get  done   .     ❞                a  bright  chuckle  .             ❝  plus    ,    lots  to  eat  when  things  are  back  to  normal   .     ❞ 

al  is  gay  so  jot  that  down

                 SHE CAN REMEMBER WHEN  they were small, how when they were all playing, Al & Ed & herself, & Al would fall & scrape his knee or maybe twist his ankle, she’d be the one to run ahead & get help. Ed would help Al to whoever’s house was closest, hers or theirs. Before her parents had left for the war, she had watched with eager eyes as they’d applied bandages, healing as much with kind words & firm hands as they did with tinctures. 

     Of course, eventually it had been their mother she’d run to. Then her grandmother. 

     The point: she’s always the one running ahead, getting help, finding a solution to the problem. She’d always hated when Al was hurting; usually, Ed was here to talk to him. Ed always knew what to say. Right now, she has no idea what to say, except …

     ‘I do, too.’   The truth.   ‘I wish we could go back and forget all about … this.’   Her hands part, gesturing to the empty space before her in order to convey the vast, unending chaos that has become their lives lately.   ‘But —–’   she bites her lip, not looking at him, afraid to look at him,   ‘what is there to go back to? If we go back, without helping …’

YOU  LOVE  HIM    .      i  know  it  as  surely  as  i  know  the  tides     ,     as  i  always  have   .                MY  BROTHER  DESERVES  THE  WORLD   .          on  any  other  occasion    ,     this  thought  might  bring  me  peace    .            NOW     ?               i  am  inescapably  lonely   .           a  breathless  sigh  lifts  his  shoulders    ,    lets  them  fall   .         you  are  the  soldier   .

               HIS SADNESS & PAIN  infect her chest, making the rise & fall of her shoulders laborious. Breathing …   how can she take for granted such a simple thing when he can’t do it? Empathy settles heavily upon her heart, & she can feel that ever-present ache intensify with every word he says. 

     He moves her hand & she lets him; her hands meet between her own knees, clasped together, almost as though she’s praying. She stares at the ground in front of her.

     There’s a million things she wants to say:   ( ED ONLY WANTS TO PROTECT YOU! TO HELP YOU! HE LOVES YOU & HE’D NEVER HURT YOU INTENTIONALLY … !   YOU CAN’T KNOW WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF YOUR DAD HAD BEEN THERE, YOU CAN’T GO BACK IN TIME, TRUST ME, YOU SHOULDN’T DWELL ON WHAT IFS! )   Instead of saying any of those things, she sighs. 

     ‘Please don’t ever stop caring,’   she whispers. Her hands tighten   ( is she really praying? God? Are you listening? Are you even there? )   & she shudders as a breeze moves past, chilling her. 

I  WON’T  LET  ANY  MORE  PEOPLE  DIE    !                 do  they  not  understand  their  gift    ?               to  wake     ,     to  sleep     .            to  breathe  and  touch  and  know  time  as  it  is  meant  to  be  known    .                were  i  smaller    ,    i  would  find  peace  against  your  shoulder    . 

                    SHE FROWNS;   it’s a normal expression, when in the company of the Elric brothers. Only this time she’s only with the one.   ( Where is Ed? This sick feeling in her gut, the not knowing, it’s killing her … )   It’s not the first time that she wishes with all of her heart that when she tightens her hold on him, she’d feel the warmth of flesh & blood beneath her hand.

      Wind tousles her hair & pulls it into her eyes. She brushes it back with her free hand & glances around at the ruins that are being rebuilt.   You’ll be rebuilt, too, Al.   She believes that, because Al believes it, because Ed believes it. But that seems so far away now, farther than it had at the beginning. There’s more than she can fathom, especially now with their father … 

      ‘Al,’   she cautions   ( don’t lie to me )   with a small shake of her head,   ‘it’s okay if you’re not all right. It’s okay if you care.’

OH    ,    IF  ONLY  I  COULD  BREATHE   .           measure  myself  by  something  other  than  the  seconds  i’ve  wasted   .              if  only  i  could  feel  my  heartbeat    .           where  is  it  hiding    ?             still      ,      warm  rose  light  fades      ,      eyes  shut     .         it  isn’t  as  though  darkness  ever  brought  me  peace    .         

                      ‘COME IN, PLEASE!’   she shouts above the din, gesturing as though through the strength of her will alone, her waving arm will draw him into the warmth & firelight. The rain seems endless &, while it isn’t unheard of, this desolate place is a strange place to be found wandering.   ‘You’ll catch your death out here!’

❝     OH   ,    UH    !       i  wouldn’t  worry  about  that  .     ❞            if  only  i  could   .         if  only  my  skin  could  meet  rain  with  WELCOMING  JOY    .         oh   ,    truth    ,     to  be  cold    .              he  ducks  beneath  the  door  frame   .         ❝     can  i  come  in  anyway  ?     ❞

                    ‘IT’S WEIRD, ISN’T IT?’   she asks, nervously tugging at her own hair as she glances sidelong at Alphonse. Then, because she knows she needs to elaborate,   ‘Seeing your dad …  He doesn’t look a day older than ——’   when he left. She can remember the man in a hazy way, as though through gauze, or steam, or a thin curtain. Like a silhouette. A shadow. 

     ‘Are you … you know, all right, Al?’   A hand reaches out & is set lightly upon his   ( armor )   arm.   ‘Do you need to talk?’

❝     me  ?       i’m  all  right   !      why  wouldn’t  i  be  all  right  ?     ❞            really   ?       is  that  why  those  words  are  burned  indefinitely  into  what  should  be  your     LUNGS     ?               HEY  ,    DAD   .         nice  to  meet  you   .         unfeeling  fingers  are  turning  over  stones    ,     silk      ,      and  water     .        ❝     you  know    ,   just  dealing  with  my  dad’s  immortality     !           who      .......  who  cares  ?     ❞

                                                  with sluggish movements, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes before hues fall on the other. there was a long drawn out yawn, as she took a seat beside him. a soft smile pulled at her lips, as she leaned against his cold armor.          “                          —or i could sit and talk to you. besides i couldn’t stop thinking about this piece of automail — i have to remake the coupling or something… i think.                          ”

                     ❛   There’s a DIFFERENCE between being frightened and not understanding                   you’ve given me no reason to be scared of you and quite frankly-”             a hand reaches up with absentminded purpose to brush against the mark on his cheek, almost in effort to hide it          “I know that stares can be uncomfortable too.”

             broken rules? something UNEASY twists within his stomach and he has to wonder if the punishment was truly fitting for the crime, for what could possibly warrant stripping someone ( A CHILD? OF 14 YEARS? ) of their physical form & needs, to CURSE them to a half-existence, an entity bordering on the cusp of invincibility and yet seemingly damned all the more for it?

                     ❛   Alchemists? We hardly hear of any in this town, I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the practice or those who use it. Yet.   .   . I’m not quite sure I’d agree with rules that seek to punish children so cruelly, nor do I understand how you’re still.   .  . here, talking to me. But I’d rather choose not to be afraid of something, or someone, if I can instead learn about them. You still seem human after all, just.  .   . a little bit different.”

           to his credit, his immediate reaction is not to RECOIL in fright as if from some nighttimemonster ( HE HAS NO BODY ! IS HE GHOST, DEMON, SOMETHING WORSE? ), nor screamand wake up the not only the sole other occupant in the room, but surely the whole street as well. ( perhaps SHOCK will sink in later, the scientific part of his mind muses thoughtfully as it attempts to make some sense out of this dream-like situation ; the other half of him hears theechoes of the sigh, the familiar ease of which the helmet is removed, hears his OWN awkward hesitation when strangers stare too long at his scar & eyes ). but he does sit there in initialsilence as if the air has been swept clean from his lungs, face washed pale from the glow of the moon, quiet and collected enough to fold his trembling fingers ( ah, THERE’S the adrenaline )into a neat clasp within his lap, before not averting his eyes as if from some horrible substance but neither letting them linger with anything but simple curiosity.

          he knows far better than to act like THEM.

                     ❛   .    .    . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, I only asked to make sure you were comfortable. Are you                   are you alright, though?”

@shiicn