Like, whoa. My first oneshot. I hope you like it~! it's kinda short, but pfft. Who cares. For some reason it seems more angsty when it's written in present tense. I don't know why, it just seems colder. or maybe that's 'cause it's raining in the story. Who knows. Oh, and you know when you look at a word too long and it starts to seem weird, like it's spelled wrong? Yeah. That happened with the word 'Alphonse'. That's such a cute name! And Al is the cutest! I just wa- ::is cut off by gunshot from fangirl-killers::

Hiromu Arakawa owns Fullmetal Alchemist, and Winry and Al.

I own her diary, the kitten, and the story.

'nuff said. On with the story!

"Alphonse..."

That is the name she hears herself say when she sees the poor thing on the side of the road, soaked and shivering. She doesn't consider taking it home at first, but she knows he would have, if he was with her. Her vision blurs and she finds herself cradling the little fluff ball in her arms, and a wave of nostalgia sweeps over her. She would cry if it wouldn't get the poor thing even more soaked. Not that it would make much of a difference if she doesn't end up crying; the rainy days hadn't ceased since the Elric brothers had left. She still remembers his voice; how childish it had seemed coming from a metal suit of armor. How…out of place. It had taken all of her willpower; she thinks, hurrying along; not to simply break down crying as soon as he had burst through the door, holding Edward in his arms. She grimaces, partly because the kitten has clawed her, and partly because she felt so selfish for feeling more worried about Al than the boy who was bleeding to death. The kitten begins to purr as she reaches the house, somehow sensing warmth ahead.

With the kitten fed and dried, she slowly brings herself up the stairs to the attic; and there she rummages through a box until she finds a diary. The one she said she would never open again. Well, she thinks, that was before I found the kitten. I'll just look at that one page…

"July 17"

"The strangest thing happened to me today. I don't know what it was, but somehow I think I'll never be able to look at Al the same way ever again. He's always been gentle, but I never knew the extent of it, not really. Yesterday, he picked up this kitten we had found by the pond, and when he looked at me, I swear I almost starting crying. There was just something in his eyes, the way they seemed so… I don't even know! It was like he had fallen in the pond too, and had been abandoned. The kitten was a scruffy brownish color, and wasn't very cute, but he fell in love with it. We brought it back to the house. I knew from the start, however, that this kitten wouldn't live long, and I knew that Al suspected it too, but he had an aura of determination, like he would give anything to save the poor thing's life. He kept going, stayed up all night with it, feeding it from an eyedropper and keeping it warm. This morning, he seemed so happy, probably proud that he had saved its life. I told him to come eat breakfast while it slept, and he finally gave in after I argued that it would be fine for a few minutes. I think that was the worst idea I've ever come up with. We ate, and then Al walked over to the kitten again while I cleaned up. He was silent, so I assumed the kitten was still asleep. I stepped into the room a few minutes later, and I couldn't believe the feelings that swelled up inside of me. Al was crying silently, cradling the poor kitten to his chest. Then he looked up at me, and whispered that is had died. How could it have died in just a few minutes? I was stunned for a moment. Seeing him like that…changed me somehow. I wanted to hold him like he had the kitten. Then I sat with him on the bed, and I couldn't help but feel so selfish. Here I was, crying over my realization, and there he was, crying over the kitten. I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself for that. "

Winry looks over the time-stained papers a few more times, then walks downstairs. The kitten clumsily gallops over to her feet, and looks up at her. It must have been sleeping, she thinks, while she was up there. She must have been up there for a long time. She picks up the kitten, then looks into its golden eyes. She misses him so much, she thinks. She wishes she could see him smile again, wishes he could see this. Wishes he could look at her the way he had the kitten; over flowing with love. Wishes he could smile at her again. Wishes she had told him before he left.

Alphonse... I love you.