Unsure
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I love my brother, I always have. Even with our few arguements, I love him.
Sometimes he says things, but I know he doesn't really mean them.
My armor creaks as I turn my head to look out the window. The sky is cloudless and dark, we can't see the stars because of the harsh lights in central.
Brother rolls over, hissing in his sleep. His injuries are still fresh, easy to agitate. I sit back when he finally relaxes, sighing a little. I
envy him, sometimes, that he could feel pain. Having a body of flesh and blood where mine is metal. But looking at how easily brother gets hurt, how much he could bleed, I stop envying him for a while.
Still, I do miss my old body, however vulnerable it was.
"Al?"
I look up, seeing brother's eyes in the semi-dark.
"Yes?" He loos so sad, and so hurt. "Brother?"
I see wetness gathering in his eyes, his flesh hand clenching the pillow.
"I'm sorry, Al."
He grimances, rolling over again to face away from me. "Brother?" I reach out to him, worried.
"I'm sorry that I dragged you into this mess."
That makes me pause, "What?" Brother curls in on himself, shaking and trying to hide.
"It's my fault, Al. I never shouldv'e made you help me try and bring Mom back."
"But brother..."
He crys, I can hear him. My hand closes on his shoulder, "Brother, it's okay. We'll find the Philosipher's Stone and get our bodies back. Everything will be okay."
He exhales a shakey sigh, silent for awhile. I wait, knowing he'll talkwhen he's ready.
"I'm not so sur Al. Not anymore." He drifts off again, still curled in on himself.
"It's okay brother. I'll still be here, even if we don't find the stone."