Al waited to say something until Ed's hair brushed his shoulders.
It's a paradoxical situation; Alphonse is closer to Edward than he has ever been, yet somehow he feels as if they don't know each other at all.
Al makes a worried little noise, and Ed raises his head a little. He's been found out, he thinks, and knows he should feel something.
Everything — Ed's wishes, his remaining dignity, even his trust — was going to have to come second to Ed's life.
You're the only person on earth who will ever be able to read this message.
"That angel hated God's second born. He was jealous. Why was he so easy to cast aside and walk away from?"
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
There was uncertainty in those eyes, and wounded pride, but there was no less passion, and therefore, Roy was no less terrified.
On Ed's thirtieth birthday, he attends a memorial that some of the military officers are holding for Ed.
Red. It looked strange on him, the red did, strange and somehow distressing.
She would notice when that body's pulse went up around her, the flush of cheeks, and the way the eyes followed her curves.
The Fuhrer always used that word. Ripe. Like fruit to be devoured .
"Of course, that depends how you define cruel," he adds, amused.
There is grass growing on the cinders, ivy covers the old stones.
PR, we need PR, he kept telling himself, but at this point he didn't think he could string more than two sentences together.
And if he did forget mom's face, what would be next? Her voice? Her smile? The color of her eyes?
"Mother?" And his voice broke, shattered as he raced to her, arms wrapping around her thin body, embracing the image, the idea. "Mommy!"
You hide it well behind your bluster and your sulks, but the workings of your mind are at once cunningly devious and ruthlessly simple.
It's not the same at all when the patient choking back cries of pain and thrashing against the straps is her friend and playmate and brother.
"I'm told by Mr. Mason that you resisted being fed, and he had you punished for that."
"Do you remember that song Mom used to sing to us?" He asked instead, concentrating on the tiny kinks of the inside of his detached leg.
"Would you like a blindfold, Mr. Tucker?"
"No one shuns their duty in Xing," she said, firmly and leaving no room to brook argument, the way her elders had always passed the maxim to her.
The easiest way to destroy an enemy is to destroy those he depends upon.
"... Hey, I thought we were supposed to be celebrating the Boss' release," Havoc protests weakly.
And while he didn't know the Niisan that had been to hell and back again with a grin on his face, he knew his Niisan, and he knew that prison was not at all where he belonged.
"I'm not your brother," he told the sleeping figure; it rang hollow.
Why was Ed still letting this fear haunt him? How long was the lingering pain of these old wounds going to hang between them?
He thought, for a fleeting instant, that he ought to feel some kind of guilt—but he couldn’t muster any.
What things Envy learns of his master's nature, of his future and his past alike, are those things which he has divined on his own, and nothing more.
They were Scientists; this was Nature. They were Modern; God is dead.
"I have to spend a year at Northern Command, and you can't come with me."
His boyfriend. He wants me to be his boyfriend. He's wooing me with gifts. I'm being courted!
Half the apple pie was still on a cracked plate on the windowsill, covered with a bowl so it didn't go stale before tomorrow, because it was all he had in the house.
If his past actions weren't reason enough to kill him, then this would be more than enough!
This is the smell of ozone from a lightning strike. This is fear.
If it didn't rain so often, Ed thought, he might feel a little more like he could make plans.
Fear kept Al's metal arms at his sides, shaking slightly with each of Edward's pained moans.
She feels like an intruder, eyes watching her from empty rooms, and every stair is a memory she dares not to disturb.
He was just moving to light the stove, casting about for a match to begin the flames that would cook their dinner, when the voice drifted in from the other room.
It was a lousy day, depressing and the color of the sky on his way home reminded Ed of the color of the Gate and he just felt helpless and sorry and lonely and bad.
"She loved him," Ed said. Crack, snap. Another flower joined the pile.
Ed began to understand why some people talked to themselves.
Your eyes stared up at me, wide and questioning, in a response not fit for such a young child.
If he would permit himself to be honest, Alphonse would admit to Roy that he hates the rain, too.
He was glad his expression rarely reflected what he felt on the inside.
It hurt, somehow, to know that there was no one now who could see past the mask if he didn't want them to.
He knew, as he had never known before, his own body; the strength and flexibility in every limb, every joint, every bone.