But he glanced behind himself for Winly, and it was a terrible, bittersweet thing.
The audience fades away; the chatters dies, their twin breaths are the soft herald of thunder to come.
That was the problem with girls these days... they just didn't know how to deal with a little pain.
He was only human though, and he had given into his rage at having to deal with Edward's dysfunction--and now Edward was gone, and it looked more and more like he might not be coming back.
It was getting kind of depressing, though, by the time the color red alone would make him wonder about the child; the flash of a cardinal, a sprig of bright berries, the gaudiness of nighttime tavern lights, and the scarlet lipstick of bar women.
Brother likes to pretend that he doesn't care what goes on in the military unless it directly affects him. Or, you know, directly offends him. One or the other.
Car broke down again, couple kilometers out of the city, so they had to walk for a while, until Alfons couldn't speak for the coughing.
He remembered finding himself asking why the Fullmetal Alchemist would be the one to patch his own clothes.
Fullmetal smiled a long, slow smile, the sort that promised evil things were in the near future, and put his boots up on Roy's desk.
Of course he came through the window.
The idiot prince still couldn't be bothered to figure out the different notes and coins, probably because he'd never actually paid for anything in his life.
Ed began to understand why some people talked to themselves.
I didn't understand that, didn't comprehend why being clean for going into the earth was a good thing until much later...
Not a fairy, then, Alfons thought in disappointment. The fairies in stories weren't usually so foul-mouthed and excitable, anyway.
And there was a certain look they shared, the one they both used when they thought Ed was being unreasonably stubborn.
It was the last moments of the change that had always held Ed rapt, had always thrilled him with the knowledge that whatever came into being, every tiny detail of it, was his creation.
Alphonse worried, but was rapidly won over by his brother's promises.
But they were no longer young, and they no longer lived together, and Al wouldn't embarrass his brother in front of their hosts by trying to take care of him.
"I want to bring father back for her," Al had whispered the week before Christmas fell.
If Al could have frowned suspiciously, he would have. Instead he relied on his expressive vocal stylings as he propped his brother upright. “What’s in that glass, Brother?”
Ed remembered that Al's first word was 'Mama', and his second one was 'Niichan'.
Ah. Fans. He preens slightly into his coat, sits up just a little taller on his haunches. Fans he knows how to deal with.
Winry had never gotten to appreciate the leather pants in her current position as the person who got to unzip them.
Yes, something was amiss, and Roy Mustang was going to find out what.
And if he did forget mom's face, what would be next? Her voice? Her smile? The color of her eyes?
"When I walked in on you in the bath, Edward, I wasn't expecting Al to be there too."
There was one thing that Edward had missed above all others.
Fear kept Al's metal arms at his sides, shaking slightly with each of Edward's pained moans.
For in equivalent trade, everything has value and therefore everything can be taken away.
But he still flinched away from that metal skin, and held his own burning automail arm a little further from his body in hopes that he would not bump against it.
Ed should have remembered this from that month on the island, back when he was a kid: you can only be in the great outdoors so long before you start dreaming of hot showers. And of dumping the people you're travelling with in them.
You've only been awake for thirty-six hours, staged a coup, fought a bunch of monsters and nearly died a few times. It's not as if you've had a tough day.
rated:M-L-V | GEN | Mangaverse | post-series | SP: up to ch 108 | DF: ch 105 | Dr Marcoh | Alex Louis Armstrong | Alphonse Elric | Cdr Grumman | Dr Knox | Edward Elric | Riza Hawkeye | Roy Mustang | death | mystery
What do you know, he wanted to scream, what do you know about my brother, what he’s gone through and how far he’s — we’ve — come?
It wasn't easy to imagine how he had been mistaken, because Al could swear that even from a distance, a hanged man looked very different from a tent post.
He’s killing his brother slowly, but he has already promised to do it quickly; what does it matter?
Even Hawkeye could be caught off guard, and the men moving in too late, even five seconds too long, too far away.
Hadn't he survived a month on a deserted island when he was ten, equipped only with a little knife and one pair of shorts? He was tough. He was rugged. He could fall asleep anywhere. He could totally do this.
This is the smell of ozone from a lightning strike. This is fear.
It is what people say to him because they cannot think of any other way to relate to him, this boy who has the heavy title of 'Full Metal Alchemist'.
Ling was an expert at this shit, he really was: making Ed feel too bad to say no to him, throwing out weird, cheeseball compliments that made his cheeks fire and froze his brain before he could brush them off
Bravado. Make them regret they ever talked to you.
"Just who're you calling..." Edward's voice stuttered to a halt as he saw where the man was pointing. "...short?"
Because he had said one year; and dammit, he meant it.
Al's slightly hollow voice positively echoed with embarrassment but he bravely soldiered on...
Some of the details he needed, of course, they wouldn't have; no non-alchemist would know. And most of the details they had, he didn't want.
"We ought to have a toast," Ed says, frowning into the depths of his bottle. "They always do when they're having a drink in someone's memory."
"You don't think doing grown up things makes you look older?" Ed said after a while.
That day, Ed had pulled his hair out of a braid and tied it up into a neat ponytail.
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.
Alfons swears he doesn't need glasses - and maybe he doesn't, if he can see such phenomena as the Gegenschein light--but up close he has trouble like this.