Just some random drabble I thought up months ago. I figure that as soon as I write it down the idea will stop tormenting me.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.
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He didn't know why he kept coming into this room; he hated it. This room was where his way of life came apart at the seams, the room where he made the decision that ruined his brother's life. His mother's room. When he looked at the empty bed, all he saw was his mother laying there, the life in her eyes fading, her grip on their small hands loosening as she succumbed to death.
He walked to the dresser numbly, stuck in the memories of the day of his mother's death. His hand brushed the picture of the three of them, all smiling, all happy. He let his gaze rest on the face of his little brother. So innocent, so giving, he didn't deserve what happened to him. His gaze drifted to his mother. It warmed him to see her smiling face, but it suddenly transformed in his mind's eye to a horrid creature with matted brown hair and burning violet eyes. His breath caught in his throat and the memories of that day assaulted him. The red light, the screams of his little brother, the pain, the blood, the Gate, and the thing that was supposed to be his mom. Shaking his head to clear his mind of the memories, he stared at himself. He looked so innocent and happy there, whole, with no mechanical limbs, no sins weighing him down.
After a minute, he picked up the picture and stowed it in his suitcase. He knew that carrying it around would only make it harder on him, but he couldn't let the only thing left of his mother get destroyed. He looked up at another picture, a picture of the man who caused his mother's death; his father. He hated that man with every fiber of his being. It only made it worse that he didn't even attend his wife's funeral. He picked it up and scowled at it before throwing it down to the floor with all his might. The frame broke with a loud crack, sending shards of glass in every direction. He started whispering profanities at the picture, calling it every name he could think of. His profanities turned into a full-blown rant of what the man had caused to happen. His voice grew with the accusations until he was yelling at the top of his lungs. He abruptly stopped when he felt a heavy leather gauntlet on his shoulder and heard the calm voice of his younger brother.
"Brother? Are you okay?" Edward turned to stare at the suit of armor housing his brother's precious soul, and was suddenly aware of the angry tears running down his face. He turned away as he wiped his eyes.
"I'm fine." His tone suggested the exact opposite, but Alphonse let it go.
"Are you ready?" Al asked. Ed nodded slowly, "Let's get out of here."
Ten minutes later, they stood side by side, watching as flames engulfed their home.
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I know, worst ending EVER! As I read it through, I realize that it's pretty crappy and short but oh well! Reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated, flames are not.