'Ello 'ello and welcome to my first FMA fic. It's nothing but a pointless sort of one-shot created after hearing the Brothers Song for the first time last night, but I like how it turned out, nonetheless. I'm thinking about making this a series of one-shots, since that's all I can think up when it comes to the FMA world. There's not much else to say 'cept that there is a bit of a spoiler in here, if you haven't seen the movie, but nothing major, I think. Reviews would greatly be appreciated for my pathetic self-esteem, especially creative criticism since I don't have a beta.
Title: Sparkle
Pairings: None
Genre: A bit of angst, gen. and brotherly fluff.
SPOILERS: A little, but nothing major.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the very pointless plot. I just like to play in the FMA world once in a while.
Summary: 'He could practically hear Alphonse scolding him for thinking such thoughts in his 'I'm-worried-but-for-the-thousandth-time-brother-its-not-your-fault!' voice.'
Edward grunted as he settled down upon the soft grass, flesh hand going immediately to his right shoulder, where wood was stiffly attached to the port. Even on beautiful days such as this, with blue skies that seemed to replenish the meek world of its color, he ached. These jerky pieces of wood that called themselves limbs were most definitely not automail.
He snorted, never thinking there would be a day where he would actually miss automail. 'Winry'd get a hoot out of that one.'
He shook his head. Days like today were rare. Ones where he could look at the sky and for a moment believe the world wasn't as torn as it truly was and that brothers were shedding each others blood somewhere far beyond where he sat, but much too close for comfort.
Today, now, he would enjoy what little peace he could before rushing back to his studies and the gut-wrenching pain of homesickness.
He ignored the aches in his shoulder and leg, which were more a dull stabbing sensation that occurred every few seconds, and reclined back to rest on his elbows and watch the gentle stream babble on its way.
After taking a deep breath and filling his lungs with air until near bursting, he sighed and smiled a little, thinking how much cleaner the air was here, compared to the city and how much it reminded him of Risenbool. A wave of nostalgia washed over him, but the smile remained. The sensation was nothing but a caress now, compared to before. He was content, or at least as content as one can be when their home was literally a world a way with, seemingly, no path back to it and all he loved.
Edward face palmed (With the left hand. The right one couldn't perform such fantastical feats). "Dammit! I'm doing it again." He murmured. "I'm supposed to be 'relaxing'." It felt good to make fun of his dead-beat dad and he allowed that happy emotion to beat any feelings of guilt to the reminiscence of nothing.
"Ah Hell," He flopped back down onto the grass, vaguely wondering when he had sat up and threw his flesh arm over his eyes, a scowl now marring his features. "I can't relax now. When I see Al, then I will." Ed nodded to himself, but made no move to rise.
He remained laying there for sometime, fading in and out of consciousness beneath the shade of a tall and wise-looking tree. Eventually, though, he sat up and shed his coat, as it was suddenly humid. The stark, brown cloth was dropped unceremoniously to his left. Instead of stretching out once more, Ed shuffled down the hardly noticeable slope until he came to the streams edge and dipped his hand just beneath the surface. He kept going until he touched the bottom; by then the surface only came up to his elbow, if that.
The stream was tender through and through. No underlying currents snagged at his arm as he shifted through the rock bed. It didn't slap against him to eagerly continue on its way, only lapped kindly, like a friendly hello or a loving embrace, before sliding lazily on to who-knows-where.
This, oddly enough, brought a pang of the homesickness he was hiding from to make itself comfy in his chest. Ed's flaxen colored eyes soften as he thought of his little brother. Alphonse had to be made up of nothing but smiles and hope and kindness and all of the good things most people lack, Edward included. He, of course, had a flaring sort of temper to him that swelled like a river during stormy times, but Al was too kind-hearted to be exactly like his older brother and could never hold a grudge for long. For that Edward was extremely thankful.
He didn't know what he would have done if Al hadn't forgiven him and stuck with him like he had, even when Ed knew he didn't deserve it. He was selfish like that, only remembering the suffering he endured in silence for four years with that one soul-breaking question weighing on his mind. Had Al said yes, that he did hate and despise his older brother for everything he had done; Edward would most assuredly have died.
His fingers clasped a small, grey and blue dapple rock nearly buried by all the others and brought it up for him to scrutinize, realizing almost immediately of how similar the colors were to his brothers eyes. It seemed everything was doing its best to remind him of what he didn't have. Sighing, with a hint of bitterness at the tail end, the stone plunked back into the stream and sunk slowly down to the bottom. His hand followed until it was just breaching the surface, cupping the placid water currents that implied his own brother's benevolent character and the burdens he had forced on to him.
"My brother, I was a fool."
He could practically hear Alphonse scolding him for thinking such thoughts in his 'I'm-worried-but-for-the-thousandth-time-brother-its-not-your-fault!' voice.
The sudden blast icy wind brought him to a shuddering halt in his thoughts and turned to the sky. Rather ominous looking clouds were bearing down on him, choking the lovely day and his surroundings of their beauty and returning them to their former bleakness.
Edward sighed. The weather change was not unexpected, simply loathed. He withdrew his arm from the slightly colder water and while stumbling up and over to where his coat lay, he wiped the droplets still clinging to his arm on his pants and made his way back to the library.