Let me tell you this much, as I write this fanfiction, butterflies swarm my stomach and sweat is never failing to uncomfortably poke through my flesh. That's due to my excitement XD. I'm trying to put some real angst and tragedy into this ^^; I have been trying to write this for forever. Also, this is a result of my severe insomnia. I have tried everything. I am listening to Vic Mignogna music; it's slow and beautiful so I thought it would help. Natta. I am reading, but, being the genius I am, I decide to pick up "Catching Fire"—second book to "The Hunger Games" series— and it is freaking addicting, so I can't put it down! Shoot me, please! Seriously, it's three in the morning, and I haven't gone to sleep before three thirty a.m. the past four nights! Anyway, enough of my jibber-jabber! Enjoy the fanfiction! I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.
Whoever described it as "the dead of night" had gotten the words down so perfectly, it made Edward Elric want to cringe at the thought. Nothing moved, keeping still and silent. He felt as if he even twitched, the air would fall. Silent; still; just like death. And the air was chilling as if it were a corpse with no blood flowing through each vein stretched out underneath flesh. Not to mention the moon. It was so pale, like the skin of the corpse. Was that what made it seem so cold? No. Of course it was going to be cold. He was in Resembool in the winter. It was bound to be cold. You would think that was why he was shivering so violently underneath the cotton sheets in the back room of the automail shop.
Saliva was thick in the young man's throat, his heart thumping erratically against his ribcage, causing him to think it might even cause damage to the bones. Trembling was something he had gotten used to during the cruel months of automail surgery. It was January now, the thought of his half-completed, mechanic arm plaguing his thoughts. Certainly they must have gotten further than that, right? Surely they must have just needed to attach the hand and he would be good to go, correct? No. That was a cruel joke. As his amber eyes landed on the machine, only a portion was there. It was so cold all around him. It only caused the raw flesh of his shoulder to clench in poor attempt to create heat, the nerves then tightening with it and causing the pain to be greater than it had been in the blistering months of summer. Sure, Pinako and Winry had warned him about this. But they didn't warn him it would feel as if the arm which was supposed to be there was being sawed off bit by bit!
But not even that was why the young man was trembling. Every time he closed his eyes, it would only be a promise of terrible images to flash before him, tearing him apart from the inside out. Why had he done it? Why did he think he of all people could possibly complete a human transmutation? What gave him the ability to convince his poor brother to be dragged in with him? No, he had to find sleep. He was much too tired to stay awake much longer.
And so within a matter of minutes, sleep came. Sleep came indeed. And in such slumber, Edward's legs twitched, kicking as his form tossed and turned, crinkling the blankets and sheets which were stacked on top of his form. Choked noises slid from his throat as he tried to escape from the prison which kept the unfortunate boy captive.
Everything had been perfect. The sun glistening, his mother's hand in his own, a smile set on her rosy lips, her cheeks flushed with joy as she glanced down to him lovingly with her endless forest eyes. Trisha Elric never failed to have an angelic appearance, but with sun shining on her pale flesh, she could have easily been mistaken for a celestial being. She could have any man's heart with the snap of her fingers. Long brown hair angled the porcelain skin of her face.
Edward was staring up to his mother with his pudgy face grinning at her own, golden eyes full of life and glee looking at his beloved mom; five-years-old and not giving a care in the world. His chubby legs walked in sync to her own step as he huddled closely to her. It was as if nothing could interrupt such a perfect setting.
False. Trisha's face soon became drained, almost in a drowsy fashion. Those dazzling green eyes rolled into the back of her head, eyelids closing over the white globes which were left. Her body then crumpled to the ground just before her son.
Edward tried to get out a weak 'Mom?' but his voice was stolen. As soon as he blinked, there was an eerie crash of thunder and he was brought to what had happened not far from long ago. He was in a dark room of the upper floor in his home, eyes landing on the only light in the room; two fuchsia blinders coming into view, then the gasping of an inhumane figure being sounded, those blinders staring straight back at him.
Ed bolted up, now sitting up straight. The action caused what should have been his arm to throb in pain, starting at the joint of his shoulder; shooting down the arm and bouncing right back up until it crossed his collarbone and decided to shoot down his other arm, torso, and legs. Two rows of teeth gritted in anxiety, the burning forcing tears to the blonde's eyes. He was in a cold sweat, his form shaking and stomach twisting. Why hold it back any longer? His heart was already being ripped out of his chest. Two honey irises scanned the room, as if looking for someone or something that might come through.
Suddenly, the blonde let the tears fall. They pooled in his eyes and then slipped down his cheeks, choked sobs coming from Edward. Gasps soon followed, a few actual sobs escaping his throat. He couldn't take it! All he knew was pain! Whether it was his arm or his heart, he couldn't tell, but he couldn't keep himself from bawling like an infant. His face buried into his human hand, the skin on it soon feeling the moisture from the reddened, puffy eyes. The room began to spin, Edward's head soon pounding as he wept.
This went on for quite some time; about an hour. Soon, he found himself to be fresh out of tears, his sobs becoming quieted and eyes glued on the window. The sun was rising. Brilliant. Normally for someone who was having night terrors, the promise of day would fill them with relief. The eleven-year-old almost wanted to laugh with irony with how that sounded. The promise of day was supposed to soothe him? No. It only brought the promise of automail construction. Normally, they would already have the arm prepared before they attached it, but Edward was a special case.
Before he knew it, the door flew open with a moan of the hinges, a stout old woman with her spectacles flashing and grayed hair pulled into that stick straight ponytail she always wore stood in the doorway. Alongside her was Winry, her blonde-haired, bubbly granddaughter with a wrench in hand.
"Let's get to work," Pinako announced in her croaky voice as her opium pipe hung from the right corner of her mouth. Her steps were clumsy—as they always were—as the elder made her way to Ed's bedside. As soon as her black eyes met with Edward's face, she knew every emotion locked within those chamomile pools. Still, she decided she would try and lighten up Ed's mood; a task which was never accomplished now-a-days. "You alright there, short stack? Your eyes are kinda red…"
"Don't call me that! And I'm fine. Just start already, damn it…"
"Jeez, Ed… You don't have to be such a jerk about it," Winry stepped in, oceanic eyes narrowed in disapproval to her childhood friend. It wasn't until she looked at him extremely closely that she noticed the slight tremble of those flesh-colored lips and the way he bashfully closed his eyes and looked away.
"Whatever. Just get started."
Like every day which had passed, it was filled with grunts and strangled screams, sweat beading down Edward's face and his teeth grinding as Pinako barked orders at her granddaughter and worked at the automail, cursing under her breath each time a nerve would burst and put the poor boy in more pain. Tears dotted at Edward's eyes, his face red as he tried to get through the twists and turns of the wrench.
"Just bear with us, Ed!" Winry never failed to plead as she set a fresh, damp washcloth onto her friend's fevered flesh. She could hardly bear it herself, seeing him in this much pain. She dabbed at bleeding spots on his arm and watched him throw his head back in affliction.
The scent of grease and metal filled the air, disguising the metallic scent of the Elric's blood.
"Done," Pinako finally announced, noticing the sun had gone down and she would have to make supper soon. The grandmother's beady eyes then fell on Edward, noticing the green tint to his skin. "Winry! Basin!"
The blonde girl's hands then wrapped around the edges of a plastic basin, forcing it to Edward's chest and looking away as he freely vomited into it. The sound of retching and the splashing of vile caused her to shudder instantly. Pinako patted the boy's back, her lips growing taut at the sight. "There we go… 'At a boy…" she would coo; Ed trying to give her the evil eye for what he would call "babying" him. Unfortunately, it wasn't very effective as he continued to squint his eyes and puke.
Winry slowly crept into the room, a tray of food in her hands. Two sapphire eyes landed on the sleeping form of the older Elric as she allowed a smile to creep onto her lips. She tip-toed to the edge of his bed, sitting down on a stool and setting the tray on a small table. She then looked to Edward, eyes filling with awe.
Did everyone look younger in their sleep? Because Winry could have sworn she was looking at the same boy she knew as her best friend, no matter how many times he would tease her and cause her to cry. Still that pudgy little boy which would nap with her under a baby blue blanket and pull at her hair and accuse her of having "cooties." But he wasn't. She dared to take her finger and trace over his features, studying him much more closely than she ever had before.
His face seemed even paler than usual, giving him a ghastly look to him. Her digit traced each cheekbone set highly on the young man's face. His nose was pointed and small, but straight none the less. His jaw was angled, yet to be square. And then she paused. There were two heavy blue shadows underneath his eyes, causing her brows to furrow in concern. Had he been sleeping at all? There were so many bags under his eyes as well. His hair had grown again, not much of a surprise. It was now going half way down his neck and could easily be pulled back into a ponytail.
As soon as she pulled her hand back, Edward's eyes fluttered open and he was sitting straight up, panting heavily and sweating bullets. His eyes flashed to Winry, blinking a few times. "W—what are you doing here?"
"I brought you dinner…" she explained calmly, pointing to the food on the tray. On it was a chunky soup, filled with what was no doubt Pinako's gumbo. Shrimp floated to the top, sharing the bowl with sausage and all sorts of spices. Water was in a cup on the side, along with a spoon and napkin. He nodded solemnly, face supposedly blank. But there was so much more hidden behind his expression. There was sheer pain in his eyes. Not the kind she had seen during his surgery, this was on much higher standards. Not only that, but she saw tears pooling along the brims. "Ed? What's wrong?"
"I don't wanna talk about it!" Whoa. There was definitely something wrong. She could tell by how dry his voice was and especially the way it cracked on 'talk'. That was an unmistakable voice crack. And not one of those puberty voice cracks which she would constantly pester him about, but one of emotional levels. Especially the way his lips were again trembling fiercely. Never had she thought to ever see the day, but Edward Elric was crying. No matter how many times he tried to wipe away each tear with the back of his hand, he was crying.
"Ed…"
"L—L… Leave me a—alone."
The words were so forced, as if he could barely get them out. Was this how hard he was trying to keep it in his throat? Silently, Winry's arms wrapped around the boy's neck, holding him closely and refusing to let go. Then, the unthinkable happened. Edward literally collapsed in her arms, his own wrapping tightly around her back as he squeezed her, sobbing onto her like a helpless child. His sobs could do nothing but break her heart with every cry and wail. She pulled her to him, cooing "Shhh…" and rocking him as gently as she could manage. Never has she seen Edward like this. In eleven years of knowing the boy, she could not even begin to think of a time he had acted this way; so feeble. He always kept a strong, straight face like some sort of emotionless robot. But being upset? That was something rarely seen, and never to these ideals…
"Winry, I—I—I … 'Nd—it—it—it!"
"Shhh… It's okay… I gotcha…"