Home
We didn't always agree. It seemed like we did most of the time, but the reality was that we in fact fought all the time. It wasn't always physical, although many times it was when we were younger. We could really belt each other then and mother tolerated it. Our mother would watch us and shake her head, and she'd let us go at it. Limbs would tangle, bruises would form, but we always forgave each other in the end. We always worked it out ourselves. Mother gave us that gift by not interfering. I loved my brother with all my heart. We were close.
But the following years after that failed transmutation, we drifted apart. I never felt that close to my brother, since one of us wasn't really human anyway. The homunculus came and we fought them together, well...partly together. And then we were separated by Envy. And even then, I felt we weren't on the same page that we might be in over our heads. But there was nothing I could do about it. Not then. Not now. I longed to be close to my brother again, to touch him where we both could feel it. To know all about him...sometimes I felt like I didn't know him anymore. I still feel that way, even more so now that we're apart. I used to dream of that soft touch, the warmth I could draw from having him in my arms. I really believed we could be much closer than we were, even as children. The attraction I felt was so natural, even if it wasn't supposed to be. I'd look at him and wonder what it would be like, to spend a night in his arms, to see passion cloud his features and to make him moan.
It's funny, the things you remember over the years, the memories that surface to mind. Remembering the colour of his hair, his lips, his eyes, his skin and then the metal, the cold hard steel, harsh against the rest of the memories. The smooth plates and the rough bits of the metal. I remember him snagging his arm on some drapes after our sin and they tore. He was surprised at the harsh contrast to the way we used to be. At least those harsh memories have faded with time. I remember very well running through the fields with my brother, but growing up...When did we get so old? So wise? So experienced? Why did God take our childhood away from us?
Now we're worlds apart. My brother is far beyond my reach in a land far far away. I dare to dream, to hope, to wish he's alive. I refuse to believe his existence has ended. If we just hold on, if we don't lose hope and if we work as hard as we can one day I will find myself in his arms, his embrace. I will find myself at home.