Disclaimer: I do not own FMA.

Parental(-ish)!RoyEd, Non-yaoi!

Warning: Death-fic


The world fell silent as his eyes shook violently. He stared at the gravestone with dead, unseeing eyes as he tried to hold back the flood of tears. He was utterly blind to the world around him, only seeing the night before play ovr and over again in his mind's eye.

He saw the boy's small back in the distance as he once again charged in recklessly, not once thinking he needed a plan. It was stupid, really. That stupid boy. Always charging in without a second thought or a moment's hesitation. Though, he supposed, it made sense. Afterall, it was only supposed to be a routine inspection anyway. Nothing dangerous about it. Clean and clear.

He followed the small blond. Of course, his hands were not comfortably clothed in his pristine white gloves. He couldn't feel the soft ignition cloth on his skin, but instead felt the biting chill of the night air.

Bang, bang, bang!

He froze. He freaking froze! He felt his heart thundering in his chest, and he dimly wondered if anyone else could hear it as loudly as he could. For a few seconds- just a few- he didn't move. He remained rooted to the spot, staring dumbly ahead to where his comrade had fallen, in a flurry of billowing red fabric and golden locks. He heard him hit the ground with a loud grunt. Finally- Finally!- he snapped out of his daze, rushing forward as fast as he could, but not fast enough! Why did his legs suddenly feel like they were full of lead? He stumbled to the ground, leaning over the boy. Red filled his vision. Red. So much red. How could such a small person bleed so much?! He pressed his hands to the boy's chest, watching as the red spot grew steadily beneath his fingertips, blossoming over the boy's heaving chest. Sticky, warm, red... so much blood... He distantly heard himself yelling, cursing, threatening. Anything, and everything. Anything to keep those two golden eyes open. But then. Those two beautiful orbs. Those two wonderful, spectacular, stunning eyes, closed. And he heaved his last shuddering breath. He could hear himself screaming and cursing at a god he didn't believe in. He had been too late.

Bring him back! Please! Just give him back!...

That was the night the world stopped. Everything was silent and still. They all mourned the death of a beautiful young boy. A loud-mouthed, tiny, infuriating, reckless, annoying, beautiful boy. That was the night the earth was soaked in the blood of strong, courageous life.

So. Much. Blood.

The boy with a heart of gold. He bled red. He stained the ground crimson. His heart had stopped. He didn't breathe another breath. He didn't jump up and throw him that annoyingly cocky grin. He didn't throw insults back and forth with him. He only bled.

The boy with a heart big enough to fit the whole world in.

The boy who bled gold.

And so, on that night, the world mourned the death of the Fullmetal Alchemist.