Memories
Song: "Absolutely" by Nine Doors Down.
This is the story of a girl
Who cried a river and drowned the whole world
And while she looked so sad in photographs
I absolutely love her
When she smiles
...
Screaming as she throws wrenches at me. Frowning as she fixes my leg. Screaming again when I call to tell her she needs to come and fix my leg. Another picture, another memory. Pictures taken by Granny at the weirdest times. I frown a little as, flipping through, I find not a single happy picture. Every single one has her screaming, frowning, or, in one, crying. I flip through the pictures, stopping on the ones with the strongest memories. Now how many days in a year
She woke up with hope
But she only found tears
And I can be so insincere
Making her promises never for real
...
The three of us waving goodbye to each other, out to travel more. So many times, we came back. So many times, she had to watch as we left again. It took so long to come home after each mission, but she never complained. I promised never to make her cry again, but Granny told me that sometimes she heard sobs coming from her room, late at night. I couldn't protect her. I hurt her, perhaps scarred her for life, by never being there to help.
...
As long as she stands there waiting
Wearing the holes in the soles of her shoes
Now how many days disappear
When you look in the mirror
So how do you choose
...
She fell asleep at the railing, watching the road back. I can only imagine how many times she stared down that road, waiting for us to come back, waiting to see both of our smiles, not just mine and an impassive helmet. But each time we came back, it was just to be fixed up, and then straight back on the road to a Philosopher's Stone.
...
Your clothes never wear as well the next day
And your hair never falls in quite the same way
You never seem to run out of things to say
...
The two of us waving to her as we come over the ridge, beaten, bruised, and battered. Every time we came back, she was different. The first time, she was ecstatic that we were home. But each time after that, she was less pleased. I told myself she was just impatient for us to get our bodies back, but soon enough I realized that she was just upset we never stayed, or even talked to her much. She was lonely, and all I could do was leave her alone.
...
This is the story of a girl
Who cried a river and drowned the whole world
And while she looked so sad in photographs
I absolutely love her
When she smiles
...
Almost the only one not taken by Granny, and it's possibly my least favorite picture of all. Tears run down her face, and we stand on either side. The grave is very clearly marked with her full name, and the engraving "To the wisest, kindest, most loved grandmother in the world."
...
Now how many lovers would stay
Just to put up with this shit
day after day
Now how did we wind up this way
Watching our mouths for the words that we say
...
A picture of us screaming at each other. Almost every day, we got in arguments. Half of the pictures were taken right after arguments, and I can clearly remember the days afterwards, trying to repair our friendship without starting another fight.
...
As long as we stand here waiting
Wearing the holes in the soles of our shoes
Now how do we get there today
When we're walking too far for the price of our shoes
...
Me, laid out on the table, while she fixes my automail. The automail costs thousands, but it never lasts long enough for me to tell if it's worth that. I break it before it's apparent whether I get my money's worth or not. But, even though I could take anyone else, I stay with her. She's my chosen method of destruction, you could say. Even though I know that if I took someone else, I wouldn't get nearly as many head wounds, I always come back to her.
...
Your clothes never wear as well the next day
And your hair never falls in quite the same way
You never seem to run out of things to say
...
Once, I pictured my anger management as a piece of wood. Each time anyone did something wrong, the wood splintered. If I took too much, the board would snap. Some things snapped the board instantly, like comments on my height. I would then have to repair that broken area, building up resistance to that method of angering me. It took a while, but now, I barely react at all when I'm called short. There is, however, one spot that will never be repaired. When she cries, my anger management fails. The board becomes a piece of paper. If somebody kicks a stone in the wrong direction, I freak. I just need some way of venting my anger at my helplessness.
...
This is the story of a girl
Who cried a river and drowned the whole world
And while she looked so sad in photographs
I absolutely love her
When she smiles
...
But when she smiles, it's a completely different story. Her smile fills me up inside, fixing the board ad tight as it can get. I can't get mad at anyone when she smiles at me. If Envy came back to life and called me "shorty" in twenty different ways, I'd snap. But anything less than that, I could take. Well your clothes never wear as well the next day
And your hair never falls in quite the same way
You never seem to run out of things to say
...
I put away the album, and my eye catches another book on the table. She said that I should look at the collection of pictures in the album. Oops... Guess I grabbed the wrong one...
...
This is the story of a girl
Who cried a river and drowned the whole world
And while she looked so sad in photographs
I absolutely love her
When she smiles
...
Opening the album, I smile. This one is filled with happier pictures. My fourth birthday party, the last one that my... dad was at. He left a couple months before I turned five. But I can't think about that, while looking at her face, tongue sticking out at me. She had fallen off a log, and her front tooth had fallen out. She bragged for days about how she must be more mature than me, because I hadn't lost any teeth. I was still a baby. The next page has a picture of her birthday, with the same expression as I pout in the background. Flipping through the carefully crafted pages of memories, I see even more familiar scenes. Me on a swing, with the bottom half of her face cut off. The three of us running down a hill, with Den close behind, and her face completely shocked by the root she just tripped on. So many pages of memories.
...
This is the story of a girl
Whose pretty face she hid from the world
And while she looks so sad in photographs
I absolutely love her
...
The last page. I turn to it, and find three pictures. The first, of brother and I posing with her, her face scrunched up with happy tears. My right arm rested warmly on her shoulder, as well as Al's left. The other two pictures are put in my pocket.
"Daddy, you promised! You promised to play cards with us!"
"Hey, don't bother your father when he's busy!"
"It's alright, dear. She's not bothering me. I was finished anyways." I stand up to put away the second album, stuffing away the pictures, into my pocket, to be framed after dinner, then go to hug the bulging belly.
"What will we name her?"
"Well, we have Trisha, Theophrastus, and Urey already, so... Sara."
"I agree."
The second picture is her favorite. The five of us, all together. I hold our daughter, and she's got our sons. All of us smiling, but her face is only graced by a small smile. She loves it, "Our first proper family picture!" That's not my favorite picture, though, however much it means to her.
...
This is the story of a - girl
Who cried a river and drowned the whole world
And while she looked so sad in photographs
I absolutely love her
When she smiles
...
My favorite is of just her, in all her beauty, with a gorgeous white dress, and elegant diamond ring. But the reason it's my favorite isn't the dress, the ring, or the knowledge that I have the best wife in the world.
The reason is Winry's radiant smile.
...
When she smiles!
A/N: Yeah... The story took over. I meant it to be different, but all I could make come out was... this. I think the message of the song that I ended up writing was "I hate sad pictures of her, and like it when she's happy." I dunno if that's what it's meant to be, but... Oh well! I like his favorite picture, don't you? :3 Theophrastus= Hoenhiem, Sara & Urey were Winry's parents. I assume you know who Trisha is. Yeah. Each paragraph is supposed to be Ed thinking about a different picture in the album. And then... I have no idea. I think I'm gonna make it my thing to never mention names until the very end. The message of the story is that Ed can't stand to see Winry in pain, physical or emotional, and will do anything to see her smile.
I BABBLEZ!
V
V
V
V
V
Review, and I don't kill you in your sleep! I like our agreement!