If Edward Elric was only living in a dream, his mind had been playing some damn good tricks on him, he concluded.
He could feel the soft white snow sink through his clothing as it melted, feel it chill him to the bone. He could smell the crisp winter air, taste the hot coffee Alfons made for them every morning, feel it scorch his throat as it slid down into his stomach, leaving a strange warmth all over. He could hear laughing, talking, yelling, footsteps. All the people who he knew and loved came back as completely different people; yes, a dirty trick, but a clever one.
Minds could be that way.. a tree branch's shadow outside of a window could become an arm, an arm he saw lift and fall again, leaving him with so many painful memories he would jolt up in his bed, beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. Golden eyes wide, blonde hair stuck to his pale face. Knees to chest, supressed whimpers. It was all routine.
Even some days he would open his eyes to see his friend, blue eyes staring down at him, tousled blonde hair falling forward. "Edward, wake up." He saw bronze eyes, the small figure of his younger brother, and hear him say in his scratchy, high-pitched voice, "Brother, brother.."
"Al," he would mumble, eyes widening, but then he would blink and Alphonse would fade away.
"Edward, we'll be late for class, come on." A large hand would extend, he would grasp it.
Yes, all routine.