Brief A/N: Long story short… I got bad news. I got emo. I wrote this. THIS is what happens when Amanda has a bad day. Amanda kills people and writes one-shots about people being saaaaad. Curse the idiot who did this to me. Or, if you like it, review and sing praises. That will undoubtedly make me happy and cause me to work harder on my much more widely-liked fic "A Lot To Make Up For." Because right now, I just don't feel the RoyEd love. Someone save me.
Disclaimer: It's good that I don't own FMA. If I did, I'd kill someone on a regular basis every time I got sad, and then no one would like it. This is why I write fics instead of creating wonderful manga and anime.
It's going to rain today…
He could feel his heart breaking into thousands of tiny fragments. Was that what it felt like, to feel one's heart breaking? He thought he'd known, back when they laid his best friend in the ground. That couldn't be the same, though; this was an entirely different sort of heartbreak altogether. It really couldn't be said that he'd never felt bad. Yes, he'd felt terrible before. Guilt was no stranger to him, but this feeling overwhelmed him, like feeling the guilt of an entire army, rather than just his own.
He had seen the smaller blonde male leave himself; he'd watched him leave, his angel in blue. Who would have known that the once-childish alchemist of the people would look so grown-up in uniform?
No, it was more than just the uniform. After all, he himself was a firm believer in the old saying, "The soldier makes the uniform; the uniform does not make the soldier." And what a good little soldier he had been, always doing what he was told. For what? So he could suffer, denied even the smallest bit of happiness when it came to him in the form of a young boy dressed in red?
Yes, of course…his red jacket. His brother had asked that it be buried with him. It was one of the few things that the younger of the brothers had said in quite awhile. Since he'd heard news of his brother's death, he was practically catatonic. It was tragic, really, watching the once optimistic young man turn into such a mess. The Rockbell girl…yes, Winry…she'd mentioned that he laid in bed all day, not letting any words pass his lips save for in sleep, when he would succumb to the worst sounding of nightmares, causing him to thrash fitfully, crying out his older brother's name.
A name he himself couldn't bring himself to think, let alone actually say. It burned him to think that everything seemed to remind him of the youth these days. A flash of golden hair, a glimpse of red cloth flowing in the corner of his eye, even a child throwing a temper tantrum; all these things reminded him of what once was and never would be again.
He looked ahead of him, staring down that pine box like it was his sworn enemy. He had wanted a nicer coffin for his comrade, but his brother insisted that he'd always wanted his funeral to be simple.
Simple. Somehow, nothing was ever simple with him. His outbursts, his moments of thoughtfulness, even when he was sleeping…nothing was ever simple. When he slept, the older man would often stay up just to watch him as he laid in peace.
He had the same look of peace, that look that made the man want to shake him, to rouse him awake so desperately…
He reached up as something wet slid down his cheek. Was it raining? He wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't noticed. After all, he had been staring at the simple box that contained such precious cargo for close to an hour. After a glance to the sky, he knew that it wasn't so.
No, it wasn't raining today, though it should have been. He cursed the skies, loathing them for being so clear. He cursed the grass for being so green, and the trees for being so full. He hated everything around him. The world had no right to beauty now that he was gone…the only beautiful thing in his bleak life.
He never should have been allowed that brief joy in life. He hadn't been and still wasn't worthy of being in the presence of that passed saint. He had been such a golden angel, so surreal that he seemed almost like a dream.
How quickly that dream faded, or rather, was ripped away so suddenly. It seemed so unfair. The military had given him that joy, and the military had taken it away. For what? For what was supposed to be a routine mission? There was nothing "routine" about that report to the Eastern front…nothing.
And now he was gone. Just like that. A simple bullet to the chest, killing the Fullmetal Alchemist. It seemed unreal. Right now, he was wishing that he was dreaming, so he could wake up next to the blonde, grab hold of him, and show him exactly what he meant to him.
He'd never told him, really, just what he meant. He'd dated a lot, but the three simple words that so many loved to hear had never left his lips, not even once. He wished now that he would have taken the blonde aside before he left, if only to at least kiss him goodbye. But no, he had only handed him the file he needed with a smirk and a halfhearted wave.
Just then, he could hear Alphonse choke out a sob he just couldn't hold back. Against his better judgment, he glanced over to see the youngest and now only Elric, hugging onto Winry as if clinging for dear life. Between choked sobs were cries of "Brother," and "Why did you have to die?"
Just then, everything broke loose. It was as if the floodgates inside of him just opened up, and everything he'd been holding back all his life flowed out before his eyes in streams of light.
I love you, Edward Elric. I love you…
No, it wasn't raining that day, but in that moment, in front of the rest of the military personnel present, family, and friends who'd known Edward Elric, beloved brother, devoted friend, Fullmetal Alchemist, the hero of the people…
Colonel--no, Roy Mustang the man--cried. He cried in front of all of those people.
And for once, he just didn't care.
Because it wasn't raining outside, but inside…
He was drowning.